“Helen!” Grace gathered her in a fierce hug and held her tight for a long minute, then pulled away, staring at her as if making certain she was real.
“Oh, Grace.” Helen squeezed her hands as tears blurred her vision.
“And have you no thought for me?” Christopher asked glibly.
“Of course I do.” Grace extended one arm and pulled him close as well. The three of them huddled together, heads bent close, each speaking and laughing at once.
“You are well?” Helen asked. She looked closely at her sister, wearing a pretty gown and with a smile that most definitely reached her eyes.
“Very,” Grace said merrily. “And you?”
Helen nodded. “But I’ve missed you so.” There is much I want to tell you.
“And me? No one cares for me?” Christopher said. “I might have stubbed my toe on the way here or be half starved, as I’ve not eaten since this morning, and the two of you wouldn’t notice.”
Grace ruffled his hair as if he were still a little boy. “We will always notice you.” She studied him critically. “And I daresay it will not be long before other females do as well.”
“None of that for me, thank you,” Christopher said, and they all laughed.
Helen felt as if her heart might burst. The three of them together like this, with a fragrant Christmas tree behind them, in such a grand house … it was almost like being at Grandfather’s again.
“I must introduce you to Lord Sutherland,” Grace said, stepping from their embrace.
She turned her head, looking around the room. Helen followed her gaze and watched as it landed on the man who had spoken earlier and now leaned casually against the doorframe.
Something unspoken seemed to pass between them before Grace whispered, “Thank you.”
Lord Sutherland shrugged, as if inviting Grace’s family and servants here were nothing. He returned Grace’s smile in a way that left no doubt as to his feelings.
He is in love with her too. Poor Mr. Preston.
“It took you all long enough,” Lord Sutherland said in a loud voice. They all turned towards him. “It has been nearly a month since I requested your company. Why did you not come sooner?”
Harrison and Miranda exchanged uneasy glances, and Helen cringed. Is he angry? Grace had written Lord Sutherland’s moods were volatile, but a change this quick was almost unbelievable. A moment ago, he’d seemed pleased to see them.
Grace put a protective arm around Helen and smiled encouragingly. Harrison stepped forward, hat in hand. “Mr. Thatcher did not deliver your dispatch for some time. Believe me, your lordship, we would have come sooner had we known.”
“Well, your timing today is perfect,” Lord Sutherland said, his tone considerably lighter. “This tree is in need of decorating — and Miss Thatcher seems determined to break her neck in the process of doing it. Perhaps you can assist in keeping her safe. It is proving almost too great a task for one man.” He gave Grace a slow wink before turning his attention to Miranda.
“There is to be a ball here tomorrow night. I trust you can help your lady accomplish something appropriate with her hair.” Once more his gaze slid to Grace, who blushed furiously as she felt her hair, much of which had fallen from its pins.
He does like it, Helen realized as she watched his perusal.
“Of course, milord,” Miranda said stiffly.
“Very good.” Lord Sutherland bowed slightly. “I will leave you to your reunion.” With a last, fond look at Grace, he left them.
“You have much to tell me,” Helen said, searching her sister’s face. But Grace was not paying attention to her. Instead, her eyes, filled with adoration, followed Lord Sutherland until he disappeared from view.
Helen stepped back from the bed and considered the two gowns laid out before her. Neither had ever been worn before, having been made nearly two years previously for her coming-out season, which had been both disastrous and short lived. The gowns had come with her to Mr. Preston’s, as had every article of clothing she owned. Her father would have gambled away anything of value left in his care.
The first dress, a delicate pink silk with rosettes on the sleeves, collar, and hem, was demure and lovely. The second, a white muslin with intricate garnet beading and a crimson sash, was secretly her favorite, though Helen already knew she could not wear it this evening. The red details on the dress were bold and noticeable — a most daring, new fashion two years ago and still on the fringes now, she guessed — whereas the pink would allow her to blend in more easily and remain unnoticed — precisely what she planned to do.
Still... She stepped closer, her fingers tracing the beading along the high waistline of the white gown. Resolute in her decision, she picked it up and turned toward the armoire, intending to replace it before the maid arrived to help her. But as Helen passed before the mirror, with the dress held up in front of her, she couldn’t seem to keep herself from stopping to look.
The crimson offered a stunning contrast against her pale skin and light hair. She imagined the latter swept up in layers of curls, held in place with the ruby combs Grandfather had given her and the matching necklace at her throat. If only I were brave enough.
But a dress like this invited a man to ask a girl to dance — the very activity Helen wished not to participate in this evening. Instead, she planned to blend into the scenery, preferably on a comfortable chair located behind a good-sized potted plant, from where she might see the goings-on of the ball without being seen herself.
With a sigh that was part sorrow, but more disappointment with herself, Helen returned the gown to the armoire. This evening was about Grace. It was about seeing her enjoy some long-overdue and much-deserved happiness. About seeing more of the Lord Sutherland whom Grace had described in her letters. About witnessing true love. Helen knew she had best enjoy it. Now that she had left Mr. Preston’s estate, her own situation seemed more hopeless than ever.
Watching Grace is likely as close to having my own love affair as I will ever get.
Helen knocked at Grace’s door. She could have come earlier, could have dressed alongside her sister and had Miranda help them both with their hair, but Grace had spent three months without her lady’s maid, so it was only fair that Grace enjoy their maid by herself for one night, at least.
The door opened, and Helen entered the room. Miranda was still helping Grace, who appeared almost regal in an emerald gown. She is not shy of wearing bold color tonight. Lord Sutherland’s mother had commissioned the gown, and it was at once apparent that she had exquisite taste. Billowing sleeves and a newly-fashionable v-shaped waistline showed off Grace’s figure.
“Oh, but you look lovely,” Helen said.
“I was thinking the same of you,” Grace said. “How are you feeling? Have you sufficiently recovered from Lord Sutherland’s greeting?”
Helen felt her cheeks warm. She nodded. “I believe so. You do not think he will ask me to dance tonight, do you?”
“I should think he will,” Grace said. “You are his guest, after all.” She sounded almost wistful, though Helen could not discern why.
“There.” Miranda finished fussing with Grace’s hem and stood, a satisfied smile on her face. “Your grandfather would be proud — of both of you,” she added, turning to Helen.
Grace came toward her, looping her arm through Helen’s. “Let us go down together, shall we?” She steered Helen toward the door, which Miranda hurried to open.
“I must warn you of something,” Grace whispered as they walked. “Hanging above the ballroom entrance there is a ball …” Her voice trailed off, and her brow furrowed as she studied Helen’s face, as if deciding how best to deliver bad news.
“A ball at a ball?” Helen remarked. “How odd.” But then, Lord Sutherland’s entire residence seemed rather strange. She did not see how he chose to decorate would matter to her. Grace seemed to tolerate the gloom and even be thriving in it. “Is this ball some ancient weapon or —”
“It
is a kissing ball,” Grace said. “If a lady is found beneath it, she cannot refuse a kiss.”
Helen gasped. “Mistletoe! I did not think people really believed such things. Perhaps I shall change my mind and stay in my room.” She gripped Grace’s arm and looked at her plaintively.
“It is only superstition,” Grace said. “No gentleman will force you to kiss him. But Lady Sutherland said that if a couple in love exchanges a kiss under the mistletoe, it is a promise to marry and a prediction of happiness.”
“Well, I am not in love with anyone,” Helen declared as Mr. Preston came to mind.
“Then you needn’t worry,” Grace said. “I only told you so you would not linger in the doorway, as you are wont to do at such occasions.”
“I am wont to stay in my room,” Helen said.
“Too late for that.” Grace kept a tight grip on her arm, urging her forward. “Lord Sutherland has seen us. To turn back now would offend him.”
Helen looked down and saw Lord Sutherland staring directly at her and frowning.
“If he escorts us to the ballroom, we shall have to pass beneath the kissing ball with him,” Helen whispered.
“Then take care to turn your cheek,” Grace said, teasing in her voice.
“Easy enough for you to say. You’ve come to like the man quite well.” For herself, Helen could scarcely imagine a more frightening proposition than having to marry the formidable Lord Sutherland.
“He is more than likeable,” Grace said, a dreamy quality to her voice. She guided her sister down the stairs. “It is all right, Helen. Do not fear. He cannot marry both of us. I think we shall be safe enough until later in the evening.”
They reached the bottom, and Grace flashed an apologetic smile at Lord Sutherland. “Helen did not realize there would be so many guests. She is a little anxious.”
“Do you need to sit?” he asked, coming around to her other side and taking her free arm.
“Yes, thank you,” Grace said. “I think that would be best. If we can get her inside the ballroom and find a chair...”
They walked quickly across the foyer and down the hall, Helen feeling as if they were half-dragging her. If they would only let her go, she could walk by herself — which would be far better than suffering Lord Sutherland’s touch.
Just before the entrance to the ballroom, he paused and glanced up at the kissing ball, then over at Grace.
I am between them, Helen realized, supposing she had upset his plans.
They entered the ballroom together, and Lord Sutherland steered them toward the nearest grouping of straight-backed chairs in the long, high-ceilinged hall. Chandeliers shone down on dark paper covering the upper half of the walls and the many guests clustered about the room. Festive garlands matching that on the stair railing sectioned off a dais in the far corner, where the musicians sat tuning their instruments.
Helen sank gratefully into a chair as Lady Sutherland — who looked almost as frightening as her son, with every hair exactly in place, a gown that looked as if it cost more than Helen’s entire wardrobe, and a dour look upon her face — began making her way toward them. Having already made the dowager’s acquaintance the previous day and having been subjected to her presence and a steady line of questioning at breakfast that morning, Helen was not eager for her company.
“Will you do me the honor, Miss Thatcher?” Lord Sutherland asked as he turned to Grace.
Grace bit her lip and glanced at Helen.
Helen smiled encouragingly. “Oh please do dance, Grace. I should love to watch you.”
Lady Sutherland arrived.
Ensuring that I will not be alone, Helen thought, resigning herself to the fact that she was not likely to be allowed to spend the evening with only a potted plant for company.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Grace promised, taking Lord Sutherland’s arm and allowing him to lead her to the middle of the ballroom.
Though no other couples had taken the floor, the violinists started up the moment Grace and Lord Sutherland faced each other.
Helen watched curiously as they engaged in conversation but did not yet dance.
“He has something special planned.” The dowager spoke through the side of her mouth in a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a great secret.
“Oh?” Helen asked, showing the interest she imagined Lady Sutherland hoped for.
“He is going to lead her in a waltz.” The dowager whispered the word, as if it were too scandalous to speak aloud.
It was scandalous. Helen barely contained a horrified gasp. “Does Grace know about this?” she asked, not quite believing her sister would be a willing participant. Grandfather had not approved of such intimate dances, and Grace had always tried very hard to please him.
“I daresay she does now,” Lady Sutherland said as her son and Grace joined hands and began gliding about the room.
Helen leaned forward in her seat to better watch. It seemed that every person in the room had their eyes riveted on the handsome couple as well. Together they were breathtaking and beautiful, and in less than a minute, Helen had forgotten to feel scandalized and was instead lost in the looks of adoration passing between Lord Sutherland and her sister.
“When Nicholas first proposed this scheme, I was not in agreement,” Lady Sutherland said. “After all … the scandal.” Her gaze slid to Helen. “But then, thanks to your sister, the Sutherland name has already been embroiled in nearly the worst sort of scandal to be had.”
Helen’s fists clenched. She scooted to the edge of her chair, determined to rise in defense of Grace, when Lady Sutherland’s tone changed quite suddenly.
“But I’ve come to realize — also thanks to your sister — that Nicholas is happier than I ever imagined he could be. He has traded his bitterness for love, and it has transformed him entirely. That is what he wished to show everyone tonight — how dear your sister has become to him, how precious we both find her to be.”
Helen leaned back in her chair and placed her hands demurely in her lap, feeling immensely grateful that she’d held her tongue and not ruined the moment for Lady Sutherland, and especially for her sister and Lord Sutherland.
“Grace loves him,” she said in response to the dowager’s revelation. The truth had to be obvious to anyone watching them. Helen felt a pang of envy. To be looked at like that, to be held close as Grace is, to have a man love me so much that he would declare it in front of everyone.
She realized that it did not matter that she had failed to gain Mr. Preston’s interest. It would not matter — for Grace, at least — if they never received a penny of their inheritance. She had found herself both a husband and a home and would be well cared for.
Helen knew it was probable that she and Christopher could live at Sutherland Hall as well. She wished Christopher had stayed this evening, but, detesting balls and dancing, he’d already excused himself, to return to Mr. Preston’s to help move Beth’s dollhouse to the Christmas tree in the main house.
As for herself …
Helen sighed inwardly. Grace might be happy here, but Helen was certain she could never be. She could never feel comfortable around someone as stern as Lord Sutherland, and she would feel an intruder in his home. Even if it is Grace’s home too. Something — many things, likely — had changed since Grace had come to Sutherland Hall. For the first time in her life, Helen realized that she and Christopher were not the center of her sister’s focus. Certainly Grace still loved them both, but Lord Sutherland now occupied her mind and heart. As he should.
Helen felt happy for Grace, yet she could not deny that a part of her felt sad at this change and knowing that their life together would never be as it was before. I cannot stay here. This is not my place.
But what was?
Her heart yearned for the warm hearth of the house that sat but a mile or so up the road. She wished she were there with Christopher and Mr. Preston now and that she could be there tomorrow morning to witness Beth’s delight when she first saw the d
ollhouse, to share Christmas with the little girl she had come to love. And her father.
It seemed that Grace was not the only one who had changed.
“Well done,” Lady Sutherland said, clapping as Lord Sutherland and Grace returned to the side of the hall following their waltz.
“It was lovely,” Helen agreed. “Though I could never dance like that.”
“Nor should you,” Grace said, with a sideways glance at Lord Sutherland.
He answered with a wicked grin. “If you will excuse me a moment, ladies, I must greet our latest arrivals.” He bowed and turned away just as Mr. Preston entered the ballroom.
Helen’s heart leaped at the sight of him. He came! Has it been but one day since we parted? It seemed much longer than that; Lord Sutherland’s estate seemed so far away from the cozy world she’d inhabited.
She watched as Mr. Preston scanned the room and stopped when he’d spotted her. Or Grace? Without hesitation, he began making his way over to them. For a moment Helen worried that he did not know the extent of Grace’s affection for Lord Sutherland. Then she remembered that it was Mr. Preston who had spied them kissing at the crossroad. Surely he must know of their feelings for one another. Helen felt a surge of hope as Mr. Preston continued walking toward her.
Instead of going to greet other guests Lord Sutherland stayed at Grace’s side. He moved closer and placed his hand at her elbow. “Are you thirsty after our dance? Would you like some refreshment?”
“Mr. Preston!” Helen exclaimed as he arrived at their group. She rose to greet him.
“Good evening, Miss Helen.” Mr. Preston bowed, then turned to Grace.
“Hello, Grace.”
“Miss Thatcher to you,” Lord Sutherland snarled, stepping forward.
Mr. Preston called her by her Christian name. Helen felt as if she’d been struck.
Beside her, Grace held a restraining hand upon Lord Sutherland’s arm as she sent a pleading look to Mr. Preston.
Loving Helen Page 8
