Helen clasped her fingers tighter, temper rising at the insult. That Cerise knew of her father’s predilections was no surprise. The entire household was aware. Nor was the girl’s opinion of Helen’s background any great secret.
“But he’ll lose interest in you after a short time. He always does.”
I wish he would lose all interest now.
“Miss Cork once had those same aspirations.” Cerise gave a sharp laugh. “She had the mad idea that my father might wed her. Can you imagine? A governess becoming a marchioness? It is less likely,” she said coldly. “That a lady’s companion might do the same.”
Miss Cork had been this brat’s governess and Galway’s lover before Helen’s arrival.
“I think the most you could hope for is to become a housekeeper, perhaps.” Cerise shrugged. “Maybe at one of myfather’s estates. Far from London. He might take pity on you though he sent Miss Cork off with no references.”
Helen wanted to swat the smirk off Cerise’s face.
“Your concern is unnecessary,” she informed the girl across from her. “Not only do I not seek Lord Galway’s attention, but I’ve no desire to stay on in any capacity after you’ve wed, my lady. Lord Galway is my employer. You are my charge. My interest ends there. As I wish Lord Galway’s did.”
Cerise inhaled sharply.
Helen gripped her fingers tighter. Unwise to say anything, of course, but she wasn’t about to sit here and be accused of seducing Galway so that at some point in the future she might become his bloody housekeeper. As if that were her lifelong ambition.
Oh dear. I really must stop cursing.
“A burden,” Cerise snapped back, cheeks coloring. “That is all you are, Miss Cosgrove. An impoverished, distant relation of dear Cousin Enid. Foisted upon us under the guise of her dying wish. I’ve no idea how you convinced her to do such a thing. Not to mention your behavior with the Duke of Roxboro at the Stout ball, which was highly improper.”
“Improper?” Helen had saved Cerise’s reputation. If she’d been seen with Roxboro…
“Speaking to a duke in such a tone. Ordering him about. If he does not call upon me, I shall blame you for scaring him off. Good lord, I’m not sure how Cousin Enid tolerated you, but she was always a charitable woman.”
Cerise’s little speech settled into Helen’s bones like bits of poison. Anger and resentment rose up so fiercely, she might combust from it.
“I was a companion to Mrs. Hendricks. Chaperone to her granddaughters. Just as I am to you. Aposition, not charity, mylady. Though I will say, after guiding you through society, I will not seek out such employment again.”
Cerise frowned, sure of a slight in Helen’s words, but unable to discern it.
“When we arrive at the park,” she finally answered, in her usual pretentious tone. “You will walk behind me as a…properchaperone and lady’s companion should, since that is your position. Lady Hester plans to join me.”
As if it were a great punishment to not walk beside and converse with Cerise while in the park. Helen could have assured the girl it was not.
“As you wish, my lady.”
What is wrong with me? I am in a constant state of rebellion as of late.
Insulting Cerise, no matter how subtle was dangerous. Good lord she’d even challenged a duke and—
Helen closed her eyes, resolving to remain calm. Unruffled. It was only that the end of the Season was so near. Her future was at hand. She was bitter over Enid’s disregard. Meeting Roxboro had nothing to do with any of it.
Barely a quarter of an hour later, Cerise and Helen found themselves on the path leading around the Serpentine, Galway’s carriage parked a short distance away. Helen stayed a step or two behind her charge, just as she’d been instructed. A soft breeze blew through the air, bringing with it the smell of horses, the water, sunshine, and grass.
Her mood lightened. It was a good day to be out in the fresh air.
Cerise suddenly halted on the path, waving with excitement to a young lady standing beneath a large maple tree. Genuine happiness filled her stunning features at the sight of Lady Hester Rolfe. Lady Hester was the daughter of an earl and cut from the same cloth as Cerise; vain, spoiled, and a bit of a nitwit.
“No eavesdropping, Miss Cosgrove,” Cerise said under her breath.
As if Helen cared a whit what Cerise and Hester gossiped about. She’d had more stimulating conversations with the pot of violets in the drawing room.
Lady Hester raised a brow, but offered no greeting to Helen other than a pained look of annoyance, as if she were nothing but a worm on the path. Or a gnat.
Ferocious, little gnat.
