But he had gone to a ball. He did want a wife.
Just not me.
And still she breathed and still her heart beat, even though in that moment, she died all over again.
“Your chaperone is waiting in my carriage, Lady Kinmarloch. Shall we go?”
“Aye, thank ye, my lord.”
Down the stairs on Phineas’ arm, into his fancy carriage with a coat of arms painted on the door.
“Lady Kinmarloch, this is Lady Fitzhugh.”
Helen nodded. Lady Fitzhugh was a plump, middle-aged woman with a pleasant smile.
“I have known Lord Burchester since he was a boy. He was a rascal, even then, so do be careful of yourself around him, the naughty man.” She spoke as if Phineas were not there, seated across from her. “But it’s just like him to be kind enough to ask me along tonight. He knew I was at loose ends because I usually help chaperone my deceased husband’s cousin’s daughters, the Cavendish girls. But their father, the Duke of Middlewich, has died and their drunken brother, such a disgrace, has been made duke. Poor girls. Their entire Season has been canceled now. And poor me. I do like going to the balls and seeing the dancing and the gowns and hearing the music. It makes me feel quite young again. This is your first ball, isn’t it, Lady Kinmarloch? I don’t want you to worry about a thing. Your gown is unusual but quite lovely, and Lord Burchester and I will make sure you have a good time and meet plenty of gentlemen and have plenty of dances.”
Helen let the woman’s words wash over her.All I must do in this carriage is nod.
It was a very short ride and she was out of the carriage into the cool spring night and into the front hall of a large house that was hot with the breath and the bodies of other people. She was glad to shed her little golden shawl.
Beyond the hall, a large room full of people. Talking, laughing.
The talking paused. A resounding voice. “The Countess of Kinmarloch.”
In my own right.She straightened and walked into the ballroom. She did her best to relax her brow, her jaw. She was very aware of the eyes on her. And then Phineas was also announced as the Earl of Burchester, and he was at her elbow and taking her to meet their hostess, Lady Titchfield, and her daughter, Lady Olivia Radcliffe.
Helen was glad now she had met the Duchess of Dunmore. Because it had partially prepared her for meeting Lady Olivia Radcliffe.
Partially.
Lady Olivia was more beautiful than Jack Pike, and until that moment, Helen had not thought such a thing possible.
Each component of her appearance was dazzling in and of itself, and her features combined in such a way that the whole was overwhelming. Blonde curls. The biggest and bluest of eyes, fringed with dark lashes. Perfect cream skin tinted with just a bit of pink on her cheeks. A perfect posture, nose, figure. Lady Olivia Radcliffe made the Duchess of Dunmore look tawdry with her beauty mark and her full lips and her slightly too large bosom for her height.
Lady Olivia’s eyes sparkled as she drew Helen aside and whispered, “I love your ballgown, Lady Kinmarloch. You must tell me who made it. Is it a Madame Beauchamp?”
Helen stroked the front of the dress, the fine silk slipping under her gloved hands. “Nae, Lady Olivia. Mrs. Allen made it.”
“Mrs. Allen. I’ll remember that.” A beautiful and gracious smile. And then Lady Olivia turned to Phineas and her manner changed. Her face froze in a haughty look and her voice was ice as she curtsied and accepted his greeting which was accompanied by his own warm chuckle and grin.
She dinnae like Phineas. How can she dislike him?
But Helen saw Lady Olivia have the same frigid reaction to every other gentleman who approached her, while giving real smiles to the ladies.
She dinnae like men, for some reason.
Phineas wandered off, and Lady Fitzhugh took Helen around to make the acquaintance of various matrons and debutantes.
Helen met Lady Phoebe Finch, the youngest daughter of the Duke of Abingdon. Lady Phoebe smiled and curtsied politely, but Helen could see that the young woman’s mind was elsewhere and her eyes were flitting constantly toward the entrance to the ballroom.
A tall, slender woman with reddish-brown hair and a matching reddish-brown gown rushed up to the short, buxom Lady Phoebe.
“Oh, Alice, good, you’re here.” Lady Phoebe clasped the other woman’s hands. “And so that means George is here?”
The other woman rolled her eyes but then grinned. “Of course, Bumblephee. Where else would he be if you’re here and I’m here?”
The tall woman was then introduced to Helen as Miss Danforth.
