“I see your point.” Cerise nodded slowly. “Yes.” A grin pulled at her lips. “Roxborowantedto break his betrothal for me. He did. Of course he did. But circumstances beyond even a duke’s control would not allow him to. I see it clearly now.”
“No, that isn’t—what I mean to say is that the duke toyed with your affections, my lady. I fear you were played false.”
“Impossible.” Cerise sat up and tossed her hair over one shoulder. “Roxboro desires me. He made as much perfectly clear. But, Miss Cosgrove, you’ve made me see that honor was involved and a man’s honor is everything. Also, Lord Canterbellisextremely influential which is a pity that he has such a dull daughter. At any rate, I believe Roxboro had to wed Lady Sophia though he would have preferred me. But now?” A slender finger tapped at her lip as a calculating gleam entered her eyes. “The duke will surely seek me out now that he’s fulfilled his obligations and I will encourage him to do so. Lady Sophia is not beautiful.”
Good lord, what a self-obsessed nitwit she is.
“I would rather have been a duchess but,” Cerise shrugged and came to her feet. “I suppose I will be a Lowell’s countess and settle for having Roxboro as my lover.”
Helen was aghast at Cerise’s words. She replayed their conversation in her mind and could not fathom how the girl had come to such a conclusion.
“You cannot mean that, my lady.” Galway would lose his mind if Cerise chased Roxboro about thetonwhile betrothed to Lowell and would most assuredly place the blame on Helen. Didn’t Cerise care at all for her reputation? Or Lowell? “Please do not pursue this course of action.”
“Or what, Miss Cosgrove?” Cerise raised one delicately shaped brow, strutted over to her vanity and shoved the diamond tiara aside as if it were nothing but a trinket. “Ifyoumake the poor decision to inform Lord Galway of thisconversation, I will sadly, need to explain to my father that it wasyouwho dallied with the duke. I saw you, the night of the Stout ball, tossing yourself at him like a harlot. Given his…inclination towards you, my father is bound to be…annoyed.”
“But that isn’t true. It’s not—” She protested. “Lord Galway would never believe that of me.” But even as she said as much, Helen knew that Galway would believe the absolute worst of her, if only because it would put her at his mercy.
“Wouldn’t he?” Cerise interrupted. “Let’s see, I happened upon youpawingat Roxboro. I was absolutely horrified at the behavior of my chaperone, a woman sworn to protect my virtue and school me in decorum. When I duke rebuffed you, as he should, I watched you beg for his attention.”
“My lady—” Panic suffused her. Cerise would make good on her threats. Helen would lose everything. The freedom that was still within her grasp. The cottage she imagined. The trio of cats.
“I remained silent,” a cruel smile crossed Cerise’s lips. “Because I could not bear the thought of what Father would do to you. Poor Cousin Enid would be horrified. Where would you go?” She fluttered her lashes with a pretty pout, tone becoming girlish. “I’m so sorry, Father,” she simpered. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Her gaze on Helen grew hard. “He’ll believe every word.”
She’d done nothing but try to help Cerise, keep her from ruining herself and becoming a pariah yet the girl hated her, so much so she would lie about something of this magnitude. Parker would surely tell Galway about Cerise’s tantrum today and want to know the cause of it.
“I thought as much.” Cerise flicked her fingers in dismissal. “Now, go away. Vanish until I send for you or Lord Lowell calls upon me.”
Helen strolled out of the room, head held high. If nothing else, she refused to be intimidated by that brat. But at least sheno longer feared that Cerise had seen Roxboro in the park. Nor kissing Helen.
Had she recognized the duke, she would even now be sitting in the street, valise in hand.
Chapter Eleven
The day followingCerise’s little fit, Helen’s charge sat lovely and composed in the drawing room. She would be at home today for any callers, daring Helen to say otherwise. Cerise’s threats still hung in the air, hovering about Helen as she went about her duties, which mainly consisted of sitting in a corner of the drawing room, greeting her charge’s callers and then remaining silent while pretending interest in her embroidery. The only bright spot thus far was Galway’s continued absence.
The first caller of the day was Lady Hester, who Helen had been instructed to send away, but with one raised, defiant brow from Cerise, was admitted without protest.
Parker, no doubt, took note.
The two girls whispered, their heads bent together, sneaking glances in Helen’s direction to see if she were listening to their conversation which thus far was a tedious recollection of some ball they’d attended early in the Season.
Helen sighed and turned away.
Galway would not take kindly to having his implicit directions for his daughter so blatantly ignored. Helen was in a poor position whether Lady Hester had tea and biscuits or not.
Cerise said Roxboro’s name and immediately lowered her voice further, though not quiet enough for Helen to miss the constant mention of the duke, nor Cerise’s giggles. Lady Hester related, from gossip overheard from an acquaintance, that mostof London was convinced that Roxboro, deep in his cups, had been lured intentionally to the Perswick gardens by Lady Sophia. She had, in fact, compromisedhim. Lady Hester agreed with the assessment of the gossips and went on to say there wasn’t any other explanation since Canterbell’s daughter, was in a word, horrible in both manner and appearance.”
Helen thought that an exaggeration. Lady Sophia couldn’t possibly be as terrible as Cerise or Hester, for instance.
“I will soothe Roxboro,” Cerise cooed. “Given his marriage to that creature.”
She stared at the embroidery in her lap, pulling taut one thread, wishing to be anywhere but here, in Galway’s drawing room listening to such drivel. Cerise would be wise not to say such things about the new Duchess of Roxboro. Lord Canterbell would not take kindly to such talk about his daughter.
Lady Hester finally departed two hours later, Parker escorting her out with a polite scowl.
Cerise resettled on the settee, fluffed out her skirts and went to sit at the window facing the gardens posing so that the sunlight steaming through the window would bathe her in gold.
Helen stabbed at her embroidery. Cerise was yet another human being, in addition to Roxboro, who was splendid on the outside but rotten within.
