by Jade Lee
Helaine swallowed. “But should I eat meals with the family, then? Isn’t that more odd?”
Dribbs snorted. “You spent most of the night closeted with his lordship. Won’t be the first mistress to be sat at the breakfast table.”
“We were just talking!” Helaine cried.
Dribbs only shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what you were doing. Just matters that you act the part. Mistress, dressmaker, daughter of an earl. None of them would be skulking about my halls.”
“I am not his mistress!”
“As you wish,” he said.
There was nothing more to be said at that point. Besides, Robert was no doubt waiting for her at the breakfast table. She still wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go. After all, it only increased the idea that she was his mistress. But that was better than the truth of her identity, so she supposed she had to do what was required. Besides, it was only a couple days more. It would be nice to sit at a table again, to be served food, and to talk over dinner. Like a little taste of what might have been.
Still uneasy with the idea, she left Dribbs to go to the breakfast area. She didn’t burst into the room as if she was born to it, but was mindful that she didn’t skulk either. She stepped boldly forward and pushed open the door.
Two people sat at table—Robert and Gwen—and both looked up and smiled at her. Robert’s expression, of course, was a good deal warmer than Gwen’s, but it was nice to see that both welcomed her.
“There you are, Mrs. Mortimer. I was beginning to wonder if you had succumbed to some ailment.”
“Uh, no, my lord,” she managed, as she belatedly remembered to curtsy. “Mr. Dribbs has just now informed me of your request.”
Robert raised his eyebrows at her tone, which had been a tad bit snippy. He likely took it to mean she was angry with him, which she was, she supposed. After all, because of him she’d stayed up most of the night talking with him and now everyone thought her his mistress. She completely dismissed her own culpability. Guilt was one emotion she didn’t have room for just then. Not with all the feelings that Dribbs had just stirred up.
In short, she was confused and disoriented, and now she had to sit at table with the man who had directly or indirectly caused all of it!
Bloody hell, she was tired. And still hungry. She decided she could understand things better with tea. But before she could move, Robert tilted his head and spoke in his usual imperious tone.
“Mrs. Mortimer? Is something amiss?”
A very great deal, but she couldn’t say that. “Amiss? No, my lord. I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re standing there glowering, and I find it most irritating to my digestion.”
“I am not glowering!” she responded before she could stop herself.
“I believe you were.”
“I most certainly—”
“Actually, you were,” interrupted Gwen. “Come, come, Helen. Please sit down. Have you eaten?” She gestured to the waiting footman. “Jeremy, please get Mrs. Mortimer a full plate.” Then she looked back at Helaine. “We have a proposal to make to you, and I believe you shall want a full stomach before we embark upon it.”
“On the proposal? Or the action?” She only asked because it was clear brother and sister were cut from the same cloth. Whatever this proposal was, asking for her assistance was merely a formality. She would participate in whatever it was because she was a servant and that was what servants did. Of course, that didn’t stop her from enjoying the excitement in Gwen’s face.
“Oh, don’t let my brother put you in an ill humor, especially when he is working so hard to please me right now.”
Helaine turned a dramatically exaggerated look at Robert. “Pleasing? Your brother?” Oh, dear. Helaine realized too late that such was not the response of a servant. Fortunately, Gwen did not notice, as she went into a peal of laughter. Then she clapped her hands in merriment.
“That is why I like you so, Helen. You have just the right understanding of my brother. You don’t mind me calling you Helen, do you?”
“Of course not.” She had given the girl leave to use it earlier in the week. She just hadn’t realized how intimate and friendly it would feel, especially with Robert sitting directly beside them. It felt as if she were one of the family or a friend visiting from school.
“Well, in any event, to my shock Robert is indeed being most pleasant today. I was telling him that he had to remove himself to Father’s club, and he was telling me that he would do no such thing—”
“I must agree,” Helaine put in. “I wouldn’t dream of ousting him from his home.”
“Pshaw! I made a promise to you, and I meant to keep it. But then he made the most delicious proposal!”
The proposal had to wait a moment as Jeremy served Helaine a full plate. A stronger woman would refuse it. It really wasn’t done to eat with the family if one was simply a dressmaker. But she really was hungry. In the end, she gave in and dipped her fork into the most heavenly eggs. Then she shamed herself by moaning aloud in delight.
Robert burst out laughing. “And here I was afraid you would refuse to eat.”
“You have the most divine cook, my lord. I’m afraid my principles are no match when faced with such temptation.” Then she sobered and met his gaze. “But this is rather awkward, you know. And not well done of you.”
He swallowed, his skin paling slightly as he understood her message. “I am an aristocrat,” he said stiffly. “I am allowed my peccadillos.” Then, when she didn’t answer, he softened his pose. “I simply wanted the pleasure of your company, Mrs. Mortimer. I know it is unusual, but it is not unheard-of. I can name any number of eccentrics who have all manner of people to dine.”
“Are you styling yourself as an eccentric, then?” she asked.
He dipped his head, then covered the movement by grabbing his tea. “I believe I am.”
Beside them, Gwen released an unladylike snort. “Of course he is!” she crowed. “He has decided to accompany us on a trip to Bond Street! All of us. Me, all my future in-laws, Edward if he will come, though he said something about a missive about sheep or hens or…I don’t know. Anyway, and you. You must come because we can’t buy our bangles and ribbons and the like without your eagle eye helping us.”
Helaine stared, her food forgotten for the moment. “We are to go to Bond Street today?”
“And shop as much as our hearts desire—Robert’s treat! In fact, he has become so eccentric as to say that he would seek your advice before he visits his tailor! Imagine that! I never thought I would see the day that Robert wanted to join me in a shopping expedition. And moreover, that he wanted anyone’s advice but his own!”
“Unfair!” Robert cried. “I often seek other people’s opinion. Just not yours, brat.”
Gwen waved his comment aside and turned back to Helaine. “Is that not the most marvelous idea ever? And Robert says that not a groat shall come out of my account. My in-laws will have to foot their own bill, of course. Edward will insist upon it. But for me, I shall buy the most expensive things I can find!”
“Oh, no!” cut in Robert. “Mrs. Mortimer, promise me that you shall instill some sense into my sister. You are to teach her how to economize. How to find excellent things on a small budget.”
“Oh, no!” Gwen returned. “You cannot add stipulations now. You said you would pay for whatever I bought!”
“And I will, but—”
“So are you game, Mrs. Mortimer? Will you help me spend my brother’s money on the most exquisite items we can find?”
Helaine laughed as she reached for her tea. Indeed, how could she not when both brother and sister were acting so delightful? “Of course. I shall endeavor to find you the most beautiful items at a price that shall not damage the earldom. After all,” she added with a wink to Gwen, “he needs enough funds to buy you the most exquisite wedding present.”
Robert’s groan was comical indeed. Gwen laughed and began itemizing expensive g
ifts her brother could purchase. Helaine found herself quickly caught up in the siblings’ banter. Soon she was trading quips as easily as them and was eagerly looking forward to the shopping.
It wasn’t until much later that she realized how easily she had been manipulated. She had kept herself apart for the last week in this household. She had maintained her place as neither completely a servant but certainly not one of the masters. And then Robert had come back to London. Less than twelve hours later, she had stayed up most of the night with him, the staff assumed she was his lover, and now she was embarking upon a shopping expedition just as if she were one of the family. She couldn’t be any further from a servant if she’d stepped into the house as Lady Helaine.
So that made her wonder. In another twenty-four hours, just how much more of her life would change?
Chapter 16
Robert hated shopping. He despised it with the passion born of a desk covered in things he ought to be doing. He despised it like he despised standing still for twenty minutes while his tailor measured or pinned or generally annoyed him while he thought of all the things he wasn’t doing. He hated everything about it, and yet he thoroughly enjoyed the day.
He had never been on a shopping expedition with his sister. Not since he was in shortcoats, and what he remembered from that was boredom. Crushing, horrible boredom. So he had never been an adult watching women buy things, listening as they debated fabrics, accessories, or styles. And he had certainly never done it while appreciating the care that went into a female’s appearance.
They actually thought about which colors looked best on their skin, which ribbons would highlight their hair, and whether a reticule with pearls was more feminine than one with lace. And even more bizarre, he actually understood what they were talking about. Not because he cared, but because Helaine was so good at explaining things. With examples.
She spoke in undertones, as was proper, but as they moved from shop to shop, she would explain the tenets of good dressing to Gwen, pointing out those women who succeeded and those who failed. He had never spent more time looking at women in their clothing than he did that day, and he found it fascinating. He also wondered what clothing blunders he had been making every day of his life.
It wasn’t until teatime at Gunter’s that he dared ask the question. And then he got his answer from everyone but the one woman he wanted to ask.
Gwen started. “You have been a fashion blunder all your life, brother dear. But at least Father introduced you to a good tailor.”
“Really, Gwen!” exclaimed her future aunt-in-law. “Your brother is a very handsome man in his own way. You should not say such things. And certainly not in public.”
Robert would have been reassured if it were not for the words “in his own way.” He was about to ask what that meant when the mother-in-law cut in while the sister-in-law giggled into her ice.
“You are just as you ought to be, your lordship. Your aim is to be imposing, severe—”
“Pompous and overbearing,” inserted Gwen.
“Stately,” her mother-in-law corrected firmly.
When it looked like the discussion would degenerate further, Robert set down his teacup with a frown, his gaze trained on Helaine. “Do you agree, Mrs. Mortimer? Do I dress to—”
“Intimidate?” interrupted Gwen. “Yes.”
“Well, future earls should be imposing,” said the mother-in-law. “But it would be nice if you added a little bit of style to all that stateliness.”
Robert raised his eyebrows in shock. “Are you saying I dress without style?”
“Oh, no!” the woman gasped, but lest he feel better about himself, Gwen was there to insert her own set-down.
“You dress boring, brother dear. Imposing, arrogant, and boring.”
“Very boring,” echoed the sister-in-law.
His eyes found Helaine’s. “Really?”
She hedged. “Your style is reserved, my lord. It is your manner that is imposing.”
“And overbearing and—”
“Yes, Gwen. Thank you, but I know your opinion.” He looked down at himself. He wore brown today, a more casual change from his usual black. Plus a cream shirt and cravat beneath a brown waistcoat. He supposed, he realized with some shock, that he must appear rather drab. When he looked up, his gaze caught Helaine’s. “What would you recommend?”
She tilted her head, obviously thinking hard. “A waistcoat with some color.” Gwen opened her mouth to add a comment, but Helaine rushed on, cutting off his sister, thank God. “Nothing outlandish. Just a thread or two of color—red or gold, I think—to relieve the brown. And it should match your cravat, of course.”
“My cravat should match my waistcoat?” He’d always matched it to his shirt.
“Just the contrast color, my lord.”
He nodded as if he understood what that meant.
“And, if I might be so bold…,” she began, obviously hesitating.
This time Gwen would not be denied. “Pray don’t stop now!” she cried. “Not when he’s finally listening!”
Helaine waited, and when he nodded, she continued. “Jewelry, my lord.”
“The devil you say!” he exploded. “I’ll not be a dandy—” His words trailed off as the ladies burst out in giggles. Apparently the idea of him as a dandy was vastly amusing.
Fortunately for his pride, Helaine was not laughing. “A single pin for your cravat will not make you a dandy. The emerald stone looked very handsome.”
He frowned, taking a moment to remember when she had seen his emerald. Oh, the night at the inn. His eyes brightened—as did Helaine’s color—as she rushed on to cover.
“Perhaps you should get a gold design resembling the family crest? Something relatively small, but very unique. It would be stylish without—”
“Making me feel like a trussed-up popinjay?”
She raised her eyebrows, her expression half teasing. His sister was not so restrained and neither were her new in-laws, as those ladies began laughing in earnest. But that didn’t seem to matter. The other women were as noise to him, whereas Helaine’s eyes, her expression, her very being seemed to shine. With laughter, with joy, with everything that was essentially her: strength and delight. Certainly she did not always express her joy, but it was there, peeking out beneath her otherwise restrained demeanor. Delight in who she was and what she was doing. If only life would allow her enough space and breath for her to express herself more fully.
Oh, he wanted to give her that space. He wanted to take away her cares, to lift off her burdens, and to share every moment of the carefree woman that she would become. He wanted it with an ache that burned.
His desires must have shone on his face. It must have been obvious to everyone, because their laughter faded, and the delight in Helaine’s expression became hidden again behind a mask of wariness. He’d done it again, he realized with a start. He’d frightened her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Indeed, he had arranged for this outing just so he could prove to her that they could be together without danger, without damage to her reputation or her business.
Gwen cleared her throat, obviously trying to gain his attention. From the sound of it, she’d been trying for some time. Finally he gathered his wits, ripped his gaze from Helaine’s, and turned on his sister.
“Are you quite well, Gwen? It sounds as if you are coming down with an illness.”
“I think,” she said slowly, her words carefully enunciated, “I believe you need to visit your hideout.”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“The Chandler, you idiot. I think you need to take an afternoon to recover your wits.”
Robert felt his jaw go slack in astonishment, his mind working furiously. However had she learned about that place? It was absolutely certain that no one of his acquaintance would speak of it. Certainly not to her. Meanwhile Gwen was prattling on, directing her words toward her in-laws and Helaine.
“He has this place. I heard
the coachman tell Dribbs about it. A ramshackle building where he goes to think and be by himself. As if we are such a bother to him that he needs to escape us. It’s quite the other way around, you know. We need the rest from him. And so I am telling you, brother dear, go away. Return when you are thinking more clearly.”
Robert released a slow breath. Clearly his sister didn’t know the Chandler’s sordid history. She was babbling on as if it were nothing more than a dreary gentlemen’s club. That was a relief, of course, until he chanced to look at Helaine.
She knew. He could see it in her tightened lips and downcast eyes. She knew exactly what the Chandler used to be. And she naturally came to the wrong conclusion about what he did when he went there.
“Let me explain—” He didn’t get a chance to continue.
“By all means, my lord,” Helaine said stiffly. “You have been most generous in sharing your time with us. Pray do not let us detain you.”
“It’s not what you think,” he said firmly. Then he was stuck, because all the women were looking at him, waiting for him to explain. But he couldn’t. Not in front of Gwen, who was completely ignorant of the whole of it. Certainly not in front of his future in-laws. As for Helaine, he wanted to be alone with her when he told her about that part of his life. He wanted her to know the real him, the man who did indeed love every minute he spent at the Chandler the way it was now.
But he couldn’t say it now. “Very well,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I can see that you ladies wish to be rid of me. But I beg of you, Mrs. Mortimer, please spare me some time this evening after I return. I should like a word with you.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary—”
“On the contrary, I insist. Directly after dinner, if you would.” Then he belatedly realized that he sounded as if he were giving her an order. “It is a request, you know, not a demand, but I would be exceedingly grateful for your time.”
He waited for her to dip her chin in acknowledgment. It took awhile, but she finally did, so he took his leave. He had plans for tonight. Big plans. And precious little time to prepare.
