Page 37 of The Duke's Promise to Her Child
“Right,” she said. “Right.” Then she lowered her voice. “Huxley suspected.”
“He did?” Clara’s eyes went wide. “You never said.”
“He never accused me outright. But he would often say that I was beneath him. That I did not belong in certain places. That the reason he could not take me to certain functions was because I did not belong there. At first I thought he was simply looking to put me down, as he always did. But the more time passed, the more I began to think it very likely that he knew. And if he knew — perhaps he told someone.”
“What a pair,” a voice said from somewhere behind her. “Someone has landed a Duke, and she is not quite a lady?—”
A tongue clicked. She turned to see two heads disappearing behind two feathered fans. The ladies holding them shuffled away without a backward glance.
“They know,” she said. She grabbed Clara’s hand. “I must leave.”
Clara looped her arm through hers and together they made their way through the ballroom. Helena’s eyes darted back and forth. Were the whispers real or was she imagining them? Surely not the entire ballroom was looking at her — that was absurd. And yet it felt that way. And where was Gideon?
She spotted James a little way off, talking to two other gentlemen. Then a fourth head appeared — Gideon.
Clara waved at him urgently. “We must leave — Helena is unwell.” Gideon nodded and moved to join them, but Helena had already picked up her pace, and they were out of the ballroom before he had a chance to catch up. Once outside, Helena freed herself from Clara’s grip and pressed herselfagainst the wall of the building, breathing hard. Clara took her by the shoulders.
“Do not work yourself into a pother. We do not know anything for certain. It is very likely they spoke as they did because of him — because they think he does not belong with someone in your circumstances.”
“But he has a title. I never truly did. I was only ever tolerated in such places because of my father’s connection to the Earl… And if they were to know…”
Clara tightened her grip. “They know nothing. Nobody knows anything. You are safe. Believe me.”
Helena looked into her friend’s large blue eyes and wanted with every fiber of her being to believe her. And yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not — because somewhere in the pit of her stomach she already knew that somehow, the secret she had guarded most closely had been exposed.
CHAPTER 16
HELENA
The letter arrived on Friday, two days after the events at Almack’s. Helena had not left the house. She had been supposed to go to Vauxhall Gardens to view a musical performance. A prime opportunity for Gideon to introduce her to one, if not two, of the gentlemen on his list. However, she had sent him a note telling him she felt unwell.
He had come calling that same evening to see how she was, but she had had Mary tell him she could not come to the door. Fortunately, he had believed her. On Friday morning she had intended to send him another note saying she was still unwell, but she never got the chance.
The postman arrived at eleven, which was his customary time. Helena was in the middle of feeding Lavinia a boiled egg when Mary brought in the letters. Most were unremarkable — the landlord thanking her for paying another six months in advance with the money she had received from Huxley’s heir, a letter from an old neighbor — until one caught her attention. She didnot recognize the handwriting. Immediately she told Mary to leave her and broke the seal.
You should be ashamed of yourself,it said.To pretend to be a relation to a great family when you are nothing but a commoner — a commoner with no notable relations. To pass yourself off as a lady in order to snare a husband is not only poor form, it is genuinely horrid. Everyone will know what you are soon enough.
She let the letter drop. Mary, drawn by the sound, hurried inside.
“What has happened?” She picked up the letter and read the words quickly, her hand flying to her mouth. “You were right, my lady. The whispers you heard at Almack’s were not simply your imagination.”
“No,” Helena said. “They know. Someone knows my secret. It is all over. I shall never find another husband. We shall have to leave Bloomsbury. Go somewhere else where nobody knows us.”
“Now, now, do not work yourself into a pother quite so fast. You do not know that yet. There is no need to pack up and leave. Not just yet. This is one letter and a few whispers.”
“You know how it is. People whisper and whisper, and the whispers grow louder, and then before you know it they are no longer whispers but a chorus repeated everywhere.”
“I am in a very great quandary, Mary. I do not know what to do.”
“Egg!” Lavinia called. “Egg, egg.”
Helena nodded and fed her another spoonful.
“You must tell Gideon,” Mary said. It was of course improper for her to refer to him by his first name, but in the privacy of their own home neither of them bothered with titles.
“I cannot,” she replied. “He will only think that I am no better than Cassandra. And I do not want him to think poorly of me.”
She was well aware that the mere fact that she cared what Gideon thought of her — that she was afraid of inadvertently hurting his feelings — meant that she had come to feel for him far more than she had ever thought she would. But the truth was it made her feel ill to think that once he knew the truth, he would turn away from her, as she knew he must.
