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She would have never gone there without trying to hide her identity. She could have worn a hood, certainly, but that wouldn’t have saved her from being recognized.

But the mask could.

Was she seriously contemplating going to a brothel?

Helen shook her head.

“And how about this one?” Olivia asked as she pressed another gown to her shoulders. “I haven’t even worn it at all.”

Helen smiled as she took off the mask and crushed it in the palm of her hand. She wasn’t certain she would ever get to wear it, but she was keeping it.

Just in case.

Chapter 7

Helen handed Laney to her nursemaid’s hands before getting out of the carriage with the help of a footman. Her legs were stiff, her back and arms hurt from running after Laney or carrying her during their walk in the park. Yet, Helen had the biggest smile on her face despite the fatigue. She needed a few hours rest now, and perhaps a hearty meal, but she didn’t regret the outing for a moment.

This morning was the first time in a long while she resolved to change her fate. And the fact that she was tired and aching would not change her mind.

Every night before going to bed she recalled that night on the Payne’s balcony where she had danced with Lord McAllistair. She wasn’t certain why her mind kept going back to that night, but she knew that she felt something there, perhaps a glimpse of passion that she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Every morning, the determination to do something about it grew stronger. She wanted to feel more than just a glimpse.

And then today, as she played with Laney, she realized a simple truth.

How was she to teach her daughter to be brave when she had never been brave herself? She wanted her daughter to be adventurous, but how could she teach her that when she had spent half her life locked behind closed doors? She wanted her daughter to live, make mistakes, fall down and get back up again.

To teach her daughter that, Helen knew she must get back on her own feet.

She was determined to live her life to the fullest in spite of her illness, contrary to all the doctors who forced her to live behind closed doors and made her sicker than she already was.

And that brought her to this moment, and the conversation that she had dreaded from the moment she stepped outside today.

When Betsy carried a chatting Laney into the house, Helen walked toward her carriage driver. She waited for the footman to step away before addressing the older man.

“Mr. Holtz,” she started, fiddling with her gloves. “I need to ask you a very important question, and I want you to answer it as honestly as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man answered without hesitation.

“I need to tell you that whatever answer you give will not change the trust and appreciation I have toward you. But I need you to be honest.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Helen licked her dry lips. “You have served me for over five years now since I married Mr. St. John.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But the viscount pays you your wages.”

“He does, ma’am.”

Helen let out a breath. Oh, get it over with. “Who do your loyalties lie with? Me or the viscount?”

Mr. Holtz puffed up his chest. “Viscount might pay me my wages ma’am, but he wouldn’t have taken me in if you hadn’t insisted. My loyalties lie with you.”

A slow smile appeared on her face. “Good. Excellent. Then I need you to take me to a place tonight after midnight. And I don’t want you to tell anyone about it.”

“Upon my word,” he said heartily and raised his right hand.