Page 21 of The Duke's Promise to Her Child
“You are right,” he said. “I am sorry. I should have seen it.”
She shook her head slightly, as though the apology was beside the point. “I want a husband who sees a woman sitting across from him. Not a charitable undertaking.” She said it without heat, but with a quiet certainty that settled the matter.
He handed her up into the carriage and climbed in after her, and they rode in silence for a little while. It was not an uncomfortable silence. It was the silence of two people who have understood something.
“There are better men,” he said at last, as they turned toward Bloomsbury. “I promise you. There are better men.”
She looked out of the window. “I hope you are right.”
“I will find you someone who sees you,” he said. “That I can promise.”
She did not reply to that. But something in the set of her shoulders shifted, very slightly, and he thought that she believed him.
He resolved firmly to do better.
Although he could not deny, sitting here now with the carriage rocking gently beneath him, that there was some small and thoroughly reprehensible part of him that was not sorry the meeting with Whitcombe had gone to pieces. That thought,more than anything else that had happened today, was what ought to have worried him. Because that would mean he cared for Helena beyond the bounds of what this arrangement required.
Which he absolutely did not.
CHAPTER 9
HELENA
“Come here, Lavinia,” she called and opened her arms wide. Lavinia toddled forward into them, and Helena scooped her up, making her giggle. Hyde Park was full of people at this hour. Governesses had taken their little charges out for walks. Couples strolled hand in hand, and a few older pairs moved side by side at a more leisurely pace. She smiled at the sight. She had always hoped that one day she might be one of those couples.
Now she was not so sure. The first two meetings Gideon had arranged had been nothing short of disastrous, and she did not know whether she wanted to continue trying. The truth was she did not. But she needed to. If not for her own sake, then for Lavinia’s.
“Mama …birds?” Lavinia inquired, pointing ahead with great purpose.
“We can go look at the birds,” Helena agreed, and together the two of them made their way toward the large bird cages in the corner of the park.
As she looked around, she noticed several families with young children. It was a Sunday and church had let out, sending streams of people toward the park in their best clothes. She had always hoped that she and Huxley would be among those families one day happily together, strolling in the sunshine with a child between them. She had learned quickly enough that this was not to be.
Lavinia bounced on her hip as they reached the birds. She extended one small finger at each cage in turn and proceeded to bestow names with absolute authority. Mauwi — meaning Mary. Jonoto — meaning Jonathan. Ewad — meaning Edward. Having a small child, Helena had found, was rather like being required to learn an new language.
She kissed the top of Lavinia’s head and, for just a split second, found herself wondering what it might be like if Gideon were here with them. What would he be like with her? She pushed the thought away at once. It was foolish. He was nothing more than a man who had come to help her in her hour of need. Nothing more than that.
She set Lavinia down and took hold of her two small hands, helping her toddle along the winding path.
“Oh, Your Grace,” a voice floated across from somewhere to her right, followed by a peal of giggles. “You are absolutely charming.”
“Well,” came the reply, low and rather pleased with itself, “I do try my best.”
Helena inhaled sharply. She knew that voice rather well. She took a few quick steps, scooping Lavinia up again so she could move faster, and there he was. Gideon was seated on a blanket with two young women who could have been no more than twenty. They were clearly fresh to society, wearing their finest dresses, their hair dressed with care. And they were here to promenade. To see and to be seen. And Gideon had very much seen them.
Helena moved until she and Lavinia were at least partially concealed behind a tree. He wore a pair of extremely close-fitting pantaloons — the sort one had to soak in water to achieve such a fit — and a cravat starched to within an inch of its life. Over it all he wore a canary yellow waistcoat that suited his dark complexion rather well, which she suspected he was entirely aware of.
“I always wondered what it would be like to serve in the militia,” said the young lady to his right.
“Did you see any action?” asked the other.
“Somewhat,” Gideon said. “We were never sent overseas, of course. But there are dangers on these shores as well. Once,our regiment was tasked with escorting a coastal supply vessel through a November squall — purely administrative work, you understand, but we were obliged to board her, and I thought for certain the whole enterprise would end with us at the bottom of the channel.”
“You were nearly shipwrecked?” the first young lady breathed.
“Nearly,” Gideon said. “We made it to shore, though I dare say I was a changed man afterward. Our vessel was called the Mary, and I always like to say we sent up several Hail Marys that night to save us. The worst of it was that we had not expected the weather at all it was only November, and there were not supposed to be any…”
Helena very nearly gave herself away. She remembered that storm. She remembered it specifically because her father had described it to her afterward, greatly amused. It had been a minor squall, a brief coastal crossing, and a number of young militia gentlemen who had convinced themselves they were all going to perish. The worst of it, Captain Hartwell had said, was the number of them who had been sick over the side before the vessel had even cleared the harbor mouth.
