Page 71 of The Duke's Promise to Her Child
CHAPTER 31
HELENA
She sat on the windowsill of her bedchamber, her legs pulled up under her chin. Tears spilled from her eyes. A knock drew her attention and then the door opened and Mary walked in.
“Oh, Your Grace,” she said, and rushed to her, wrapping one arm around her. Helena dropped her head against Mary’s shoulder and let the sobs come. She shook heavily, shoulders heaving, as Mary guided her down from the windowsill and back onto solid ground.
“What in the world has happened? Heathcliff said Lord Vale came. Was he horrid?”
“Of course he was horrid. But that is not the point. He and Gideon … the two quarreled.”
“Come sit by the fire with me and tell me everything.”
She guided her to the chair, and Helena sat down.
“He came to request that I relinquish control of a piece of land left to Lavinia in Huxley’s will. I told him I would not, and the two of us sparred. He said some very unkind things — not just about myself, but about Gideon as well. I thought I handled myself well. I stood up for myself, as I should have done with Huxley.” She paused. “I also suspect he was the one who informed the scandal sheets about my heritage.”
“Of course he was. Bird-witted wretch.”
“But if I stood my ground, why are you reduced to tears?”
“Because of Gideon. He heard the end of the conversation and burst in, apparently determined to defend my honor. He screamed at him and ordered him out of the house. He grabbed him by the neck and physically removed him.”
“Good,” Mary said.
Helena looked at her.
“No. It was not good. It was not good at all. It was exactly the sort of thing I asked him not to do.”
Mary’s voice, when she spoke again, sounded more exasperated than Helena had ever heard it.
“Your Grace. You must stop comparing him to Huxley. He is not your former husband. You are ruining something that could be beautiful. I see the way he looks at you — he adores you. And frankly, he has since London.”
“It does not matter. Huxley looked at me in that manner also.”
“With all due respect, Your Grace, he did not. He never once looked at you in that way. And you know this perfectly well.” Mary took her hand. “I understand that you are frightened of repeating past experiences. But you are throwing away a chance at happiness. Do not do this to yourself. Do not do this to him.”
“I thought you would understand me,” Helena said.
“I do understand you. And I will support you as long as you are acting rationally. You are not.”
“Do not tell me that I am irrational. You have not lived my life. You have not…” She shook her head. “This is no use. You do not truly understand me, despite everything.”
“Sometimes,” Mary said quietly, “I truly think that I do not. If you will excuse me, Miss Lavinia needs her dinner.”
Helena took a slow breath and watched her walk away.
She paced her chamber. It was nearing the time when she should be selecting a gown for dinner, but she had been robbed of her appetite entirely. She did not wish to eat. She did not wish tosee Gideon, or Mary. All she wanted was to go to Lavinia’s room, pick her up, bring her to her bed, and go to sleep with the little girl in her arms. But she knew that too was not going to be possible.
Instead she took off her shoes and stockings, changed into her nightgown, and went to bed with the sheets pulled over her head against the still-bright light of the afternoon.
* * *
She never came for dinner. Gideon sat and waited as his pea soup grew cold and the crispy bread lost its crispiness in front of him. An hour after he had sat down he rang for the footman to take the soup away and bring him grapes and cheese instead.
He would simply have to be contented with that. He did not feel like eating anything else. Even the cheese tasted oddly bitter in his mouth. He finished it anyway, knowing that if he did not he would wake in the middle of the night ravenous.
He made his way upstairs and for a moment considered stopping at her chamber — to see if she was all right, to see if she was willing to talk. But there was no candlelight under her door, and he left her. Instead, he stopped at the nursery. Lavinia was already in her crib. She had kicked off the blanket and lay with her arms and legs stretched to either side, head turned sideways, a sliver of moonlight illuminating her chubby cheeks. He ran his crooked index finger gently along her face.
