They took their places in the circle and waited for the next pairs to begin.
Sir Vacher — too much a rake. Lord Ainsworth — a braggart. Certainly none among their circle would make a good match for her. Samuel felt a bit like Nicholas as he wove in and out of the set, sending a message with his eyes to the men. Leave Helen alone. She is not for you.
The dance went on far too long with too much switching of partners. He found himself thinking of their waltz in the nursery and how the three of them had collapsed with laughter at the end. He wondered that he had not appreciated that morning — and Helen — more.
How is it she has been under my roof these many months, yet I’ve scarcely paid her any attention?
“Are you quite well?” she asked when they stood beside each other again. “You look a bit lost this evening.”
He did feel that way, truth be told. “I am well enough,” he said. “Just assessing who is here and making sure you are safe.”
“Of course I am. I’m with you.” She smiled and stepped away again to form the star at center.
At length the dance ended, and Samuel was left feeling as if he’d been cheated somehow. He vowed to wait until later in the evening, when the dances lengthened and the tempos slowed, before asking her for another dance. At least then he might have a chance at holding her in his arms for more than a second or two at a time.
After all, we are here to convince the neighbors that I am courting her.
Samuel had scarcely escorted her to the side of the ballroom when an unfamiliar gentleman came to claim her hand. Samuel caught a fleeting look of uncertainty as she accepted and left the protection of his side. He attempted not to scowl as the man led her away, then thought the better of it and scowled openly. It was exactly the sort of thing Nicholas would have done — and had done — in proclaiming his intent toward Grace. Though somehow, Samuel doubted he looked as foreboding.
“Are you feeling well this evening, Mr. Preston?” Lady Ellis stood before him, waving her fan as she spoke. “Are you overheated? It is rather warm in here. I must instruct Mr. Ellis to have the servants open some windows.”
“The temperature is not bothering me,” Samuel assured her, prying his eyes from Helen to look at his hostess. “Your ballroom is lovely, as are you.” He bent, kissing the back of her hand.
“Not as lovely as the young lady you’ve brought with you this evening.” Mrs. Ellis leaned closer, holding her fan up in front of her face, as if that would hide their conversation from anyone who might be watching. “Tell me — is she the sister of the girl Lord Sutherland disgraced?”
“She is the sister of Lord Sutherland’s fiancée,” Samuel corrected, grateful thus far that Nicholas had had the good sense to keep his mouth shut about the broken engagement.
“And did she accompany you to the theatre recently?” Mrs. Ellis asked, poorly feigning a look of innocent curiosity.
Samuel narrowed his eyes and pretended shrewdness as he looked at Mrs. Ellis. “Guilty as charged. It appears we have been caught.” Perfect. “Though I hope you realize that Miss Helen’s brother was also seated in our box. She was properly chaperoned throughout the night.” Excepting our hasty carriage ride.
“Of course.” The fan flapped rapidly. “And tonight? Did he accompany you in your carriage?”
Drat. He’d been remiss as to endanger Helen’s reputation by driving with her alone. He pasted on a smile. “Unfortunately, her brother is away at the moment. We took the open-top sleigh, so as to be in sight of the driver and others at all times.”
Mrs. Ellis, with her love of gossip and fever for scandal, would realize this was still a significant breach of etiquette.
“And I suppose you would enjoy having others admire her at your side,” she said. “Quite a beauty, isn’t she?” Mrs. Ellis watched Helen dancing. “A good thing if she is in want of a husband. I hear their father died in shame, leaving the family penniless.”
Their father lived in shame. “Helen and her siblings have been estranged from their father for some time. Previously they lived with their grandfather, the late Duke of Salisbury. As to being penniless, that is not at all true. He left them an inheritance.”
“Oh, I see.” Mrs. Ellis snapped her fan shut.
Samuel could tell that he had deflated her enthusiasm.
“Will they be staying at your guesthouse much longer?” she asked.
Nosy, nosy. Samuel searched the dance floor for Helen and her partner, then chose his words carefully. “That depends. Grace, of course, will not stay much longer — only until the wedding. And Christopher is eager to be out on his own. Whether Helen goes with him remains to be seen.” The violins lingered on the closing notes of the song. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Ellis.” Samuel bowed, then walked briskly across the room to intercept Helen as she bade her partner farewell.
Samuel took her elbow and guided her toward the refreshment table. “How are you?”
“Very well, excepting my toes.” She looked ruefully at her slippers.
“Not everyone can dance as gracefully as I do?” he teased.
“Thank heavens for that, or every other dance partner would make me dizzy until I collapsed at the end of each piece.”
“I believe I have just been insulted.” He noted her rosy cheeks as he handed her a drink.
“Not at all.” Helen peered at him over the top of her cup. “On the contrary, our dance in the nursery was the finest I have enjoyed.”
Our dance. “We’ll see if you feel that way at the end of the evening.” He looked past her to see two men approaching. “Drink that quickly. I think your respite is about to end.”
Helen swallowed, then lowered her cup as she turned to face the newcomers, Baron Edwards and Mr. Barlow. Samuel assessed them as they made their introductions. Barlow seemed a decent sort of fellow. He owned property a few miles up the road. Samuel had never known him to be any trouble. But he hadn’t known him to be anything extraordinary, either.
And Helen deserves extraordinary.
Edwards, on the other hand, had obvious flaws. His dress and manner were flamboyant to the point of distraction. Samuel found himself looking away so as to avoid a headache from the bright purple vest. He hoped very much that the baron would not ask Helen to dance, as the color clashed terribly with her gown.
He could tell each was on the verge of asking her for the next set, and he wondered what was delaying them and whether there was some game between them. The thought both annoyed and alarmed him, and before Samuel had quite realized what he was doing, he’d taken Helen’s cup and set it aside.
He held out his arm to her. “You promised the next dance, remember?”
If she was astonished, she hid it well and placed her hand upon his arm. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, gentlemen.”
Samuel led her away, though not before overhearing Baron Edwards say to Mr. Barlow, “But they have already danced.”
“At least it is not another quadrille,” Samuel said, guiding her to the end of the set that had formed in the center of the ballroom.
“What have you against the quadrille?” she asked.
“Nothing, when I am dancing with a young lady whose company I do not enjoy.” They faced each other.
“Am I to assume that you enjoy my company, then?” Helen asked.
“Very much.” Samuel felt his heart plummet as he realized the truth of his answer.
We are only acting. She is but acting. And doing far too fine a job of it.
He studied her face for any sign of concern or tiredness. “How are you feeling — truly?”
“Disappointed,” Helen confessed.
Not what he’d expected to hear. “I don’t understand.”
“All this time, I was too frightened to attend the theatre or a ball or party because I was afraid of men like Sir Crayton and my father. And though I did see Crayton at the theatre, and it was awful, his presence did not ruin the night for me. The performance was so much more t
han I had imagined — the whole evening felt magical.” She smiled as she remembered.
“I suppose I expected a ball to be just as glorious as the theatre,” Helen said. “But so far, I have only walked around a circle with you, had my toes stepped on, and my eyes offended.”
Samuel followed her gaze to the baron’s overly bright ensemble.
“You do not care for the quadrille either,” he said, amused at her confession. “As for the other, I am afraid you are learning the sad realities of a ball. I am sorry that it is a disappointment. Perhaps if we attended a larger gathering in London.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so. Lord Sutherland’s ball was more what I had imagined, and it was not so very large.”
“What was it about his ball that pleased you?” Samuel asked. “I understood that you did not stay long.”
“I did not.” She looked away, and he was reminded of the woman she’d been just a short while ago. “Before I left, I enjoyed watching Grace and Lord Sutherland dance the waltz. The way they looked at each other was so …”
“Ghastly?” he suggested. At the time, he’d found Nicholas’s blatant display of affection overbearing. However, since then his opinion had changed somewhat. If given the same opportunity would I not dance a waltz with Helen?
“It was personal.” A smile touched her lips.
“Ah,” Samuel said, beginning to think he might understand. “And you believed all balls to be as intimate as that waltz?”
“No. I think I realized that was unique, but a woman does dream and imagine …”
A few weeks ago, he would not have believed that she ever dreamed or imagined about anything to do with balls or men.
She only needed to realize that not all of us are a disease.
The music began, and they met at the center. Recalling Nicholas’s actions at the ball where Samuel had first met Grace, he took every opportunity to be close to Helen. His hand lingered on her waist as they turned. He caught her eye each time they passed. He touched her hand, then squeezed it gently each time before letting go. The dance had a large set, and the longer they danced, the more her face became flushed. When at last it was their turn to promenade beneath the bridge, he whispered to her.
“I am the envy of every man here with you as my partner.”
Her cheeks reddened so much that they nearly matched the beading on her dress. He winked at her just before the bridge ended and they parted.
“Mr. Preston,” she scolded when they met once more. “You are being quite — personal tonight. I am not certain what to make of your behavior.”
“That’s all right,” Samuel said. “Mrs. Ellis knows exactly what to make of it, and she is spreading her opinion of us far and wide.”
Helen followed his gaze to their hostess, who was ensconced behind her fan on the far side of the room. “Oh dear.”
“Do not worry. She will be talking of us, not of you.” He’d assured that by asking Helen to dance again so soon. “We have satisfied her curiosity in inviting us this evening by giving her much to speculate about.”
“Let’s hope that gossip reaches Lord Sutherland.”
“Indeed,” Samuel agreed, sobered by the reminder of what they were about.
The dance, though long, ended too soon, as far as he was concerned. Reluctantly, he allowed another neighbor to claim her hand, then stood brooding, knowing it would be some time before he could dance with her again. He supposed he ought to dance with some of the other women, but the idea held no appeal.
The evening passed slowly for him as he stood on the edge of the room, watching Helen. In the past while attending such events, he stayed only a short while, leaving after a dance with one or two ladies. After that, the reminder of all he was missing, plus an overwhelming longing to have Elizabeth at his side, inevitably sent him home early to an evening spent staring at her portrait and feeling his loss anew. Balls had become a sort of self-torture, which he avoided as much as possible.
Not until his harvest ball last September had he hosted any sort of party after Elizabeth’s passing. He hadn’t had the heart or stomach for it earlier. Only with his interest in Grace and her imminent arrival had he decided to hold a ball. It had been a dismal failure almost from the very start. Nicholas’s untimely arrival and then abrupt departure — with a very ill Grace in his arms — had sent most of his guests home early, feeling subdued. And after allowing Nicholas to take Grace with him, Samuel had felt more alone than ever. He’d had his few years of being happily married. He was blessed to have a daughter. And he still had a lifetime of empty evenings and sleeping alone to look forward to.
The familiar melancholy stole over him as he watched Helen glide about the floor. Silently, he found fault with every one of her partners, though were he to have given voice to his complaints, they would have rung hollow. Many were good fellows and would make a fine match for Helen. If she married someone here, she would remain close to Grace as well — assuming their ruse worked and Nicholas and Grace ended up married.
Samuel sighed and removed the watch from his vest to check the time. Another hour to go at least. He wasn’t certain he could endure that long.
Helen approached him after the end of a dance. “You look rather like your grumpy neighbor Lord Sutherland tonight,” she said, coming to stand beside him. “I do not think you care for balls very much.”
“I used to,” Samuel said, trying to remember that time. “Going home alone is always a painful reminder of the past.”
She placed her hand on his arm. “Tonight you are not going home alone. And there is no need to stay for the entire evening. We have accomplished what we came to do.”
“Almost,” Samuel said as he heard the strains of violins begin. “One dance more, and then we will leave. He took her hand in his. “This is the closest thing we will get to your personal waltz in Mrs. Ellis’s ballroom.”
He held her hand and led her easily through the dance steps as they twirled about the ballroom in the midst of the other couples. Helen’s smile never faltered, but she did not seem to be looking at him as she had earlier.
“What is wrong?” he asked on their third turn about the room.
“I am thinking of your wife,” she confessed. “And feeling so sad.” Her eyes shone bright with unshed tears.
“Don’t be sad for me,” he commanded rather urgently. “Aside from the fact that Mrs. Ellis will tell everyone that I am a brute who made you cry in public …” This solicited a tiny smile. “You must not worry over me. I have Beth. We are quite happy.”
“I know.” Helen sniffed loudly but did not elaborate on what else might be troubling her.
Samuel held her as close as was decently possible and tried to offer comfort. When next he attended a ball — if he ever chose to again, which was doubtful — he would not have her at his side. But he would remember this evening and the enchantment that first Grace, and now Helen — especially Helen — had cast upon him. How blessed he felt to have known them each, if only for a short time. How grateful he felt to have been the one privileged enough to help them on their ways to happiness.
The dance ended, and Samuel tucked Helen’s hand into the fold of his arm. They left the ballroom and claimed their wraps without so much as a word between them. When they climbed into the sleigh for the ride home and still had not spoken, it seemed that their night was to end as silently as it had begun.
The horses were off, the sleigh gliding through the snow. Their breath frosted in the cold air, and Helen snuggled closer. It seemed the most natural thing in the world when Samuel put his arm around her and pulled her near. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed.
“A sigh of contentment, I hope?” he said.
“As close to contentment as I am likely to ever get.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “Thank you for a lovely, personal evening, Samuel. Thank you for showing me what I have been missing. And thank you for helping Grace.”
For a minute, he had hoped �
�� before she’d mentioned her sister — that Helen would say something else. But that was his foolishness for imagining things that were not there. “You are most welcome.”
She rested her head again on his shoulder. He willed the sleigh to move slowly through the night and tried to be grateful for the evening they’d had and a memory he would cherish forever.
It was with reluctance that Helen took Samuel’s hand and stepped from the sleigh. The ride home from the Ellises’ had been far better than the ball itself; she had enjoyed every minute seated close to Samuel and was sad to see their evening come to an end.
They went into the house, and the butler took her cloak. She brushed snow from her hair and waited as Samuel was helped from his coat as well. He offered her his arm, and together they started up the stairs, her steps dragging with reluctance. At the top they would part ways, she to the east wing and her waiting lady’s maid, he to the west, where his rooms and Beth’s lay.
“Good night, Samuel,” she said as they paused in the hall. “Thank you for a lovely evening.” Helen relinquished her hold on his arm.
“Wait — please.” He caught her hand, brought it to his lips and held it there.
She gazed at him curiously, breathlessly.
Samuel lifted his head but did not release her. He stepped closer. “May I — would you —”
Yes? Anticipation thrummed through her. Something wonderful is about to happen.
He closed his eyes briefly, his lips turned down and brow wrinkled as if he was caught in some sort of inner debate. After several seconds his features smoothed and he looked at her once more, though in not quite the same way.
Somehow she felt keenly disappointed at the change.
“Will you come to the nursery with me to check on Beth?” he asked. “She is quite the different child when she is asleep. You really should see her.”
“I am rather enamored of the awake version,” Helen said, trying to keep the disappointment from her voice. “But all right.” He still kept her hand, and she followed him down the hallway and felt somewhat scandalous for behaving thusly, so late at night.
Loving Helen Page 16
