by L G Rollins
“Is it a very heavy weight?”
Surprised at the question, Fredrick turned back toward her. Miss Spencer watched Christina and Topper, her tone sincere and her expression matched. She was curious, but there was also a hint of sadness in her eyes.
“Yes,” he answered honestly. “I have found it to be weighty to the point of distress at times.”
“There were nights, after balls or musicales, when my father would question me about this gentleman or that. Who had I spoken to? What had they said? How did I respond? He always looked . . . troubled, burdened during those conversations. I always wondered if it was me he was worried about, or—”
“The men you were keeping company with,” Fredrick answered definitively. “Certainly, the men.”
“I hope you are right. I hate the thought of him not trusting me or thinking me naive.”
“I am certain he didn’t.” No one who knew Miss Spencer well at all would ever consider her naive or easily taken in by flattery. She was lighthearted and joyful but in no way gullible.
“How about this.” Miss Spencer leaned a bit closer, keeping her voice low. “Since you and I are friends, what if I helped you keep an eye on Christina and Topper?”
The relief he felt at the very idea was so noticeable, he half expected to suddenly find himself an inch or two taller. “Have you any idea what a relief it will be to not do this alone?”
“I can fathom.”
He was sure she could. After all, since her father had passed, she’d been seeing to many things alone. She’d packed up her childhood home, endured a London Season, and faced the derision of society. Yes, she had the Shakerleys. But after learning of Lord Shakerley’s complete lack of brains in arranging her marriage contract, Fredrick doubted he’d helped her much with anything else.
“I can subtly bring up Topper’s name after the ladies withdraw tonight,” Miss Spencer said. “I will be able to watch them when you cannot. It may prove that Topper is more willing to speak with me regarding his intentions than he would to you, seeing as you are Christina’s brother.”
Fredrick was feeling far more optimistic already. “That would be much appreciated.” He could use an astute head like hers in sorting all this out. And heaven knew, between his mother and twin sisters, he had plenty of ‘sorting out’ to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Helena moved through the grand doors and into a ballroom as beautifully decorated as any she’d ever seen.
Lord Forbes, standing beside her, let out a low whistle even as his walking stick clicked lightly against the floor.
“It is quite grand, isn’t it?” she agreed in a low whisper. Ribbons hung in lovely curls down table legs and in the gathers of the tablecloths. The entire ceiling was draped in sheer tulle, making the many candelabras which burned above them appear to be shimmering, light-giving clouds. Flowers—nearly an entire hothouse’s worth—filled corners and tables and surrounded the orchestra at one side of the room.
“I’d heard Lady Adley rather went all out for Christmas,” Lord Forbes said in a rare show of actual emotion, “but I had no idea.”
“I think it’s lovely,” Emma said from behind them, her hand atop Topper’s arm.
Lord Forbes led Helena further into the room. “Lord Adley must love his wife quite a lot to let her spend so much of his blunt on a Christmas ball.”
Helena’s forehead dropped a bit at his comment. Lord Forbes’s statement had been straightforward enough, but something about it had given her pause. No doubt she would have dismissed it out of hand had she not been thinking all evening if he might not be the answer to her problems.
Did Lord Forbes not think a ball a good reason to decorate? Or that a man only gave a woman he loved money to see her wishes fulfilled? Or, perhaps, his tastes were simply more reserved, and he perceived the room they stood in as unnecessarily extravagant?
Lord Chapman entered the room, Christina on his right arm and Eleanor on his left. Helena watched his eyes grow big as he took in the space. Then his gaze found hers and he mouthed, “Extraordinary.” She smiled back at him and nodded her agreement. Lady Adley, whom Helena was determined she ought to meet tonight, had certainly a fine talent for seeing a ballroom merrily decorated.
Moreover, she was not here to tease out a single, insignificant sentence from Lord Forbes. She was here to enjoy herself, to meet people, and possibly to further her connection with a gentleman or two. What Lord Forbes might have meant was of little concern. Helena could feel her spirits rising the more she soaked in the jolly atmosphere of the ballroom.
When Lord Forbes asked her to dance not five minutes later, Helena readily agreed. Dancing, she learned, was ever so much more fun when the room was filled with red and green decorations and the orchestra played lively and heartily. After the dance ended, and Lord Forbes excused himself, Helena spoke with Emma and a couple of her friends whom she hadn’t yet met. Then she danced with Topper, and afterward, he brought her some punch. As the evening wore on, Helena found herself in such a fine mood, she even agreed to dance with Lord Ellis when he asked her. More still, she hardly cared when he spent more time looking at the women beside her than he did at her.
At least he had the decency to see her comfortably situated on a well-cushioned chair near a window before he left. She didn’t care for his good opinion, so his lack of attention did little to disappoint her.
Helena closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the cheerful ambiance surrounding her. Still, she didn’t miss the sound of a chair being pushed up beside hers and of someone sitting down heavily onto it.
“He’s dancing with her again.”
She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who’d spoken, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Really, Lord Chapman, if you’ve come with the intent on ruining my good mood, you will find me a very unwilling partner.”
“Tell as much to Topper.”
Helena opened her eyes and glanced his way. Lord Chapman seemed ready to demand Topper remove himself from the ball altogether.
“This is only the second time he’s asked her to dance,” she said. “That may be proof he is interested, but it doesn’t make him a cad.”
Lord Chapman’s gaze followed Christina and Topper across the dance floor; clearly, she hadn’t convinced him. She’d already spoken to Christina enough to learn of her good opinion of Topper, and all her interactions with him had only shown him to be a gentleman. However, she’d already told Lord Chapman as much and didn’t think repeating herself now would make any difference.
“If he likes her, then I wish nothing but the best for them.”
“You aren’t her brother.”
“No, I’m not. But if you aren’t careful, pretty soon Christina’s going to wish I was and you were not.”
Lord Chapman’s gaze shifted to her and he stared at her long and hard. Then his shell broke and his mouth shifted into a smile. “You are right. He’s shown no signs of wanting to misuse her, and he is well enough off. I doubt he’s a fortune hunter. I should just sit back”—he did so even as he spoke, folding his arms across his chest—“and not bother them.”
“Good for you.” Helena turned her own gaze back to the dance, her shoulder nearly brushing his as she shifted in her chair. A comfortable silence settled between them. Despite it, Helena could feel Lord Chapman’s intent gaze stretching out and landing on Topper.
“You’re still going to keep a close eye on him though, aren’t you?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“As close as a saddle on a horse’s back.”
Helena pursed her lips and shook her head but didn’t look his way. “Lord Chapman, you are incorrigible. I can’t help but believe that someday when you meet the right woman, you will find yourself dancing with her twice during a singular ball. And probably wishing you could dance a third time, too.”
She turned to see what he thought of that and found herself staring back into his eyes. He looked at her, something different than she’d ever
seen before swirling about his expression. His eyes looked darker just then; how could that be? And it was as though he was pulling on her, drawing her closer to him, even though he wasn’t touching her at all. Helena’s stomach turned into a hundred butterflies, all of them beating their wings against her chest.
“Lord Chapman,” a happy voice called to them.
Lord Chapman looked away, and the spell was broken.
“Lord Adley,” he said, standing and reaching a hand out to greet the newcomer. “It is good to see you, sir.”
Helena realized that she’d been leaning quite close to him, and she righted herself. What had just happened?
Lord Chapman spoke easily enough with Lord Adley, and Helena was grateful for a moment to compose herself. Soon, however, Lord Chapman introduced her to their host. He was a short man, and a bit bald, but had a pleasing expression.
“You have a lovely home,” Helena said, thankful that as a lady she was free to remain sitting. She wasn’t at all confident she would be able to stand just now. “And it seems tonight is quite the success.”
Lord Adley chuckled. “Between you and me, my wife was ever so worried that a ball the day after St. Nicolas would be seen as terribly unfashionable. But we have our own family tradition on St. Nicolas that none of us wanted to give up. So, here we are.”
Helena’s gaze floated over the crush around them. “It seems the gamble was worth it,” she said. Her father and she had once had many Christmastime traditions. But they’d all ended with his death. Gracious, but she missed those moments. It wasn’t the tradition themselves that were important, but the anticipation, the knowledge that they’d do them together this year and next year and the year after, just as they’d done them together so many years before.
Suddenly, Helena felt tears prick against the back of her eyes. Good heavens, she could not be seen crying at a ball. She blinked quickly and forced her mind back to the conversation about her.
Lord Adley indicated to the room in general with his glass of punch. “I had hoped to see Lord Wilkins tonight. I understand he’s back from America with his cousin, Mr. Radcliff.” Lord Adley leaned in a bit closer. “And I hear he’s brought a proper American heiress back with him.”
“I wish him all the best of luck, then,” Lord Chapman said even as he eyed Helena. He seemed to be asking if she was all right.
Lord Adley shrugged. “He sent his apologies; apparently his mother has a rather bad headache.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Helena said, giving Lord Chapman a small smile. She was fine, if suddenly a bit melancholy. Somewhere, moreover, she hoped Lord Wilkins—whomever he may be—was happy with his American heiress. Perhaps his cousin, Mr. Radcliff, too, could find someone to be happy with. Though she was alone this Christmas, it was nice to think that, somewhere, there were men and women happily celebrating together.
The sounds of the orchestra announcing the next set reached them.
“Pardon me,” Lord Chapman said, reaching his hand out to Helena even while speaking to Lord Adley, “But I had hoped to ask Miss Spencer to honor me with this dance.”
“Of course, of course.” Lord Adley smiled at Helena good-naturedly. Then he stopped and turned toward the music. “Good gracious, is it the midnight waltz already? I must go find my wife.” With a quick bow, he hurried off.
Helena slipped her hand into Lord Chapman’s. Warmth spread down her arm. It was as though he’d poured comforting reassurance into her with a simple touch. Truth was, she wasn’t wholly alone this Christmas; she couldn’t ever remember feeling lonely when with Lord Chapman, though she felt it often enough around other people.
Together, they moved toward the center of the ballroom. Several other couples pushed past them, hurrying to join in what was quickly becoming the largest dance of the night. Helena knew a moment of gratitude for the crush which enveloped them and the resulting invisibility.
“Remembering your father again?” Lord Chapman asked in a whisper, his mouth close to her ear.
Helena nodded. “As I told you before, sometimes it just hits me. Though I must admit, it seems to happen around you more often than anyone else.”
He placed a hand against the small of her back, gently guiding her. “You never have to hide your tears from me.”
Helena blinked more tears away. Heaven help her, but sometimes no matter what she tried, she couldn’t stop them. Helena’s steps slowed. Lord Chapman must have understood for he didn’t press her to continue. Instead, they came to a halt just outside the gathering dance.
“Does it bother you?” Helena asked, her voice low enough that only he would hear.
“Does what bother me?”
Her voice grew even quieter. “How short life is?”
Instead of responding, he merely leaned in closer, his hand still against her back, his fingers tracing small circles there.
What was it about his presence that always made her feel so secure? So safe voicing those fears she didn’t dare tell anyone else? “Sometimes I can’t help but feel it’s all so pointless,” she said. “We’re babies, then children, then adults, and soon we’re in the grave. One minute here, the next gone. It all feels so frightfully short.”
“I guess we just have to make the most of the time we’re given.”
The dance began, and couples swirled across the floor in front of them. Helena watched, but it was the feel of Lord Chapman beside her that she mostly focused on. “But how does one even begin to do that? How do I even know if I am doing that?” Despite her better judgment, she leaned her shoulder against his chest. She wished she could lean her head against his shoulder, but they were at a ball and easily seen by all. Still, the bit of touch brought the comfort she needed. “After my father passed away, my world changed in many ways. One of those ways is that I cannot shake the feeling that someday I’m going to die, too. What if I pass on without having seen to those matters most important? What if I die with work left undone?”
“And what work do you feel you must do?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze traveled across the faces of those dancing and smiling, seemingly oblivious to the fact that very soon, this would all end for them. Though, perhaps they were less oblivious and simply distracted by the night’s merriment. “I’ve been so focused on finding a husband. But now—” She turned and faced him fully, her tone still soft but intense. “I want more than just an advantageous connection. I want a family. I want someone who cares for me, and someone I can care for in return. I want children whom we’ll love. And then . . .” She drew herself up, Mary and Jim’s faces coming to mind. “Then I also want to help other people. I want to be looking beyond my own silly worries, and I want to help those who are muddling through life at the same time I am. I don’t know how or whom, but I know I want to be helping others.”
His gaze held hers with equal intensity. “Then do it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.” It had seemed so simple after speaking with Mary the other day. She had much, and others had less. If only she could help those less blessed than her. But now, after spending much time these past few days thinking it over, she didn’t know the first place to begin. In many ways, the despair was worse than ever. Not only could she do very little to help herself, but she couldn’t think of any way to help others in a meaningful way. What a useless waste her life was proving to be.
“If I’ve learned anything about you this Christmas, Miss Spencer, it’s that you’re thoughtful and persistent. You’ll figure it out.” His hand cupped her cheek with a gloved hand. The touch was comfortable and easy, yet it also brought a heat to her chest that she’d never felt before. The music and dancers, the decorations and chalked floors, they all faded away around them. All she could see was Lord Chapman, smiling at her and standing ever so close.
“Just start where you are,” he said. “You don’t have to do anything monumental. Just make a difference in the lives of those you meet every day.” He didn’t pull back, and
one corner of his lips tipped upward. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I think we missed joining the dance.”
Helena laughed softly.
“Poor form?” he asked, slowly pulling his hand away from her face.
“Indubitably,” she said, turning and once more seeing the ball around them. Helena drew in a deep breath—no friend had ever comforted her like that. She both yearned for it and was wholly unsure of what she was feeling. Her insides were a jumbled mess, yet she wasn’t uncomfortable. She felt at peace, especially when her thoughts returned to her father and her desire to help others, yet she also felt wholly unbalanced.
Lord Chapman took hold of her hand and looped it around his arm. “You deserve a family,” he said. “You deserve a man who will cherish you.”
His sincere tone pulled her gaze to him. He stood shoulder to shoulder with her, watching the dancers. He was as dear a friend to her as any she’d ever had—how that had come about, or when, she couldn’t rightly say. But, standing together, she knew it now. More alarming, however, was a growing heat in her chest which bespoke of him being more to her than just a friend.
It was an emotion Helena had never experienced before and one she had no idea how to handle. She couldn’t feel this way for Lord Chapman. He was the man who’d flatly refused to marry her only last summer.
If ever she was in need of a family to help her sort out life, it was now.
Chapter Seventeen
Helena hurried down the stairs, grateful that no one else was up yet. Last night’s Christmas ball had been an emotional whirlwind, one she was still sifting through. The magic which had captivated her, the heartache at missing her father once more, the realization that she’d changed somewhere along the way and didn’t want to sit back and miss opportunities to help other people, the heat which had come from Lord Chapman’s touch.
