The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Hamilton, Hanna

  Helena clung to the bedpost as Tess pulled back on strings that would so bind her beneath her clothes that she would scarce be able to breathe at all. She could not see how they could possibly be pulled any tighter before she must break entirely.

  “My Lady, I fail to see why you even need such a thing, so slender you are. According to the other maids, barely a one among them even bothers with a corset anymore,” Tess told her in a scandalized whisper as she tugged still harder before tying off the dratted strings.

  Helena took a cautious breath and glanced back over her shoulder in triumph at her aunt. If a corset was a requirement to attending the concert, then so be it, even if she must breathe carefully as she lifted her arms to accept Tess’s help in donning the dress. The fabric settled over her form and billowed out before settling around her.

  “Is it not beautiful?” she asked, turning to feel the skirt swishing against her ankles. The soft lilac decorated with deeper purple ribbons and the most darling embroidery along the waist and short sleeves felt like springtime itself. She drew on her long white gloves, wincing only a little at the healing scar, a fact with her aunt could hardly help but notice.

  Phoebe clucked and shook her head. “Promise me you will not remove your gloves at all tonight. If anyone saw…”

  There was no need to say more. The scandal was obvious even to Helena who had long since given up trying to argue that it had been an accident. “I would never remove my gloves in public. You must know that, do you not?” She asked, going to her aunt and taking her hands in hers.

  “I know nothing of the sort; otherwise I would not say it.” Phoebe’s stern glance was softened then by a smile that was at once wistful and indulgent. “Dear child, I would not carry on so had I been sure of your actions. I have been remiss in teaching you much of what a young lady such as yourself must know. If there is a fault to be had here, it is mine.”

  “The fault is as much mine as yours. I had no interest in learning, and you saw no need for me to learn. So perhaps we are to take a mutual blame.” Helena smiled and shook her head, putting her arms around her aunt in a hard embrace. “Aunt Phoebe, I am so thankful you have allowed me to go tonight. You do not mind being my chaperone?”

  “Mind? How could I mind? The Duke is very generous to escort us tonight. It would have been rude to turn him down. Though you should have asked me before accepting his invitation.” Phoebe sighed a little and pushed the girl away from her. “Now go sit down and have Tess do your hair before you muss us both.”

  Helena spun away from her, too excited to care that her aunt seemed uninterested in showing affection. Aunt Phoebe was not the sort to enjoy hugs, not the way Bridget did. Tonight though, let her aunt be prissy about such things. In an hour the carriage would come for them. The entire world was opening for her, and it was at once terrifying and marvelous.

  “Do you think the music will be very fine?” Helena asked, settling only just barely upon the stool at the dressing table. She clasped her hands nervously in her lap, to keep from playing with the embroidery, knowing from experience how easy it was to destroy the pattern if one picked at the threads, which she must absolutely not do, no matter how restless her fingers became.

  “I am sure the music will be fine, whatever it is,” her aunt informed her and turned to go. “Be sure you are not late. It would not do to keep the Duke waiting. We might leave without you.”

  Tess’s eyes were wide in the mirror over Helena’s left shoulder as the door closed behind Phoebe. “Would she do that?”

  “Of course not! Aunt Phoebe speaks only in jest,” Helena said with a laugh, waving off the other girl’s concern. “Now tell me how we shall do my hair. Will you put it up again, with the curls that came down over my ears?”

  Tess pursed her lips, and Helena laughed. The girl so clearly wanted to surprise her but was bound to answer simply because of the position she held. “Do not tell me, Tess,” she said softly as the girl picked up the silver backed brush to smooth her hair. “I wish to be surprised.”

  Helena gazed thoughtfully in the mirror as Tess fussed over her hair. The mirror distorted her view of herself, she knew this, but still, the angry marks on her face gave her pause. He had said they could enter in the dark, but Phoebe had pointed out that to do so would only draw attention to themselves. But was it possible that her face was not as terrible as she’d supposed?

  Many times, over the last days, the words that the Duke of Durham had spoken regarding her deformity had echoed in her mind. He had seen worse. There was nothing seriously wrong with her. The marks upon her skin were mere blemishes. She told herself these things now as she sat nervously holding her fingers.

  What if I have been wrong my entire life to hide? What if I could have gone places and done things like the other young ladies of the ton. Could I have been courted properly?

  Everything she’d ever believed about herself seemed wrong now, had, in fact, felt wrong since the Duke had spoken so openly to her.

  She wished now that she’d told her aunt about that conversation, that she might gain her aunt’s impression upon the matter. But then her aunt had been so fiercely protective of her niece since she was small. She would not have appreciated the conversation, perhaps, and thought that Helena had been improper to discuss something so crass as physical appearance with him.

  Helena watched as Tess’s skilled hands braided her hair, giving her two long plaits, one that she wound around the base of the chignon, anchoring it with several pins, the other that crossed over the top of her head, much like a bandeau. With the short soft curls framing her face, she looked at once complicated and sweet, a look that matched the dress well.

  But Tess was not finished, for now, she took other accessories, pearls, and ribbons that matched those within the dress and wove them carefully through the hairstyle until Helena’s breath was caught by how elegant she had become. She touched a hand to one of the pearls and felt a very unladylike grin spreading over her face. Maybe the unsightly blotches would not matter when she was so terribly beautiful in all other respects.

  Beautiful. I am beautiful.

  It was a new thought, fragile and precious. She had never once in her life had that thought, and she held it now the way one would a baby bird, careful not to crush it.

  Her hand dropped to her cheek, to the blemish there. “If only…”

  “You are every bit as wonderful as any lady there will be, My Lady,” Tess said all in a rush.

  Could curses be escaped so easily? A dress, a hairstyle, a soft smile…was that truly all it took?

  “Thank you, Tess.” Helena stood as Tess draped the soft cloak over her, much finer than the one she usually wore. This, with the dress, was a gift from her father. He had been so pleased over this night. Funny how a single evening outing could be of such import…

  She was warm within the cloak, but her aunt had insisted that she come down dressed in such a way as to be ready to go immediately. Her feet fairly flew down the stairs, only to trip her at the end when she realized that the Duke of Durham was standing within the entry, having only just entered.

  He came forward, his hand outstretched, ready to catch her, but Helena only laughed, for she’d caught herself on the bannister at the last moment. “I have kept my feet this time, Your Grace. See? I do not need your assistance after all.”

  “Perhaps I shall offer it all the same,” he said offering her a hand down the last few stairs.

  Helena felt a blush steal into her cheeks as she took his hand for those briefest of moments. The warm pressure of his fingers upon hers gave her a quiet thrill that she felt all the way down to her toes. He let go all too soon, as was proper, and she felt the loss immediately, drawing her hand back within the folds of her cloak that she might savor the sensation and re-imagine it all over again.

  Antony was watching them both from the door, his expression never once wavering, ever the watchful servant, though his chin moved in a slight nod of approval as he surveyed them b
oth together.

  Helena bit her lip to keep from laughing. He must have somehow inveigled a trade with Wilson, the man who would usually tend to the door at this hour. She wondered what her father would say if he saw him standing there.

  The Duke, of course, had no such idea that he was being scrutinized so carefully. Helena studied his countenance, trying to see if there was some added meaning within his smile, but was too unskilled at reading his face to determine any deeper meaning to it. He seemed for all the world to be a man calling upon a lady, to escort her to a concert.

  Either he is playing his part terribly well, or he honestly does not mind taking me tonight. Oh, I wish that were so! That terrible, wonderful brooch to have given me this night! Even if none of this is real, I am thankful. I shall ever be thankful.

  With such thoughts whirling in her head, Helena could barely murmur an invitation to step into the parlor while they waited upon her aunt, only to find her already seated therein, along with her father who sat reading a book, looking for all the world like such occurrences as his only daughter going out to the theatre were the commonest thing in the world.

  Harcourt Barrington rose with delight upon seeing the young man at her side and came forward to clasp his hand and to speak heartily to him. Her aunt on the other hand, only had eyes for her niece, a tightening to her mouth the only evidence of her displeasure, before she too turned toward the Duke of Durham with a nod and word of welcome.

  Helena drew back as if struck. Once again, she had displeased her aunt. Meeting the Duke in the entry had evidently been some kind of faux pas, especially given she had been without a chaperone, though Antony had been there. Once again, Helena had tripped on a series of social rules she did not understand and thereby embarrassed her aunt.

  Poor Aunt Phoebe, to be saddled such a niece!

  But the Duke of Durham didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care, for his eyes rested upon her once again, warm and welcoming, with laughter in their depths like he was actually overjoyed to be here. It was a lie, of course, but a sweet one, to be tugged in close under the cloak and put with the feeling of his fingers that she still savored to enjoy later.

  Chapter 23

  Before Helena knew it, they were in the carriage, shivering against the cold despite the cloak. The windows were covered against the wind, but Helena could not resist peeking behind the curtain to see the ice glittering on the streets under moonlight so bright it might have been day. The horses cast long shadows, white clouds issuing from noses and mouths as they trotted through the streets, their hooves loud on the cobblestones.

  Magic. The entire world was filled with magic. They passed houses with lit windows, families moving within, other lives that she had somehow forgotten existed, like she forgot the rest of the world, living so long within the confines of four walls.

  When she sat back, she saw him looking again, the Duke’s eyes soft upon her, though his questions were directed at Phoebe, asking what music she had heard before and whether she preferred the Russian composers over the rest.

  Phoebe could hardly answer such a question, though Helena longed to. She had many decided opinions on a long list of composers. It was all she could do to bite her tongue while Phoebe answered that she had never thought of comparing composers at all and found all their music to be to her taste, which was diplomatic enough even if it were a lie. Phoebe avoided music entirely whenever she could. It was a wonder she’d agreed to attend tonight.

  But Phoebe seemed delighted to be on this excursion for never had Helena seen her aunt smile quite so much.

  My aunt has sacrificed so much because of me. I think perhaps she would have enjoyed more outings as well. Perhaps I have been overly vain in allowing myself to stay at home. She has been kindness itself in not pushing me to go places, but all of this must change, for the good of both of us.

  Vowing that she would be more attentive to those around her henceforth, Helena drew her hood a little closer around her face, enjoying the warmth with certain contentment, allowing the conversation to flow around her though little was being said.

  That too was natural she supposed, for they were all still strangers, were they not? And what little Helena knew about etiquette seemed to demand her own silence more often than not. Not that she minded. It was enough to be here, to listen to the clatter of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones, knowing they were bringing her closer to the theatre with each step.

  More than once she saw the Duke glance at her. “Are you cold, my Lady?” he asked finally, his eyes full of sweet concern.

  Helena froze. Talking about her health seemed decidedly improper, but not answering would be worse. Finally, she shook her head, implying a negative, and so, he nodded finally and turned to make a comment to her aunt that she did not hear.

  Within the cloak, Helena flushed miserably feeling that she had failed some important test. Thankfully, no one could see the brightness of her cheeks that felt impossibly hot within the stifling fabric that had felt so snug and cozy only moments before. It was with relief that she noted the carriage slowing and finally the shouts and creaks as they came to a halt.

  Helena resisted the urge to peek out the window. She wanted so much to see the theatre by night, for she had heard it was lit entirely by gas lamps.

  “We have arrived it seems,” the Duke said with a smile in her direction, and Helena nodded happily, too excited to speak.

  She descended clumsily, tripping on her cloak and righting herself belatedly, seeing the quick frown on her aunt’s face. But even the unspoken scolding failed to take away the magic of the moment as she stood on the wide marble steps that led into a world, she had never seen but only heard about.

  Already the Duke of Durham and her aunt were ascending. The Duke paused, holding out a hand to her, as he had to help her descend the stairs at home. With a gasp of delight, she stepped forward to take his hand and allow him to tuck hers within the safety of the crook of his elbow.

  Her feet never touched the stairs, or if they did, she was unaware of it. The chill of the night air never so much as caressed her heated flesh. At that moment she lived the lie that she’d worked so hard to create.

  Let me pretend. Please, just let me pretend that he well and truly cares, that this courtship is real, that he means something by this touch of his hand upon my arm.

  They reached the top of the stairs, and so great was Helena’s happiness that she could even ignore the narrowed eyes, the look of censure from Phoebe that told Helena she had committed one more transgression on the list of many. Perhaps she should not have taken his arm in such a familiar way. Helena’s smile faltered. The hand fell away to her side.

  “I thank you for your assistance,” she said prettily with a slight bobbed curtsy, her eyes carefully downcast. “I would not have wanted to fall upon the stairs again.”

  Surely that would satisfy the needs of society. The blissful moment of feeling the warmth and power of him at her side would be hers to hold within the confines of her heart, where propriety held no sway. That would be hers alone.

  The Duke put his arm to stop her as she headed automatically toward the door. She turned to look at him puzzled, surprised when he leaned down to say quietly for her ears alone, “I have timed our arrival so that if we wait here but a moment or two the lobby will be near empty, and you need not face a crowd. The evening is somewhat pleasant, and it would not be amiss to linger here.”

  Helena’s eyes went wide, and for a moment she could not breathe. He would do this for her? She bit her lip as she considered the proposition and remembered her aunt’s displeasure at the original suggestion along these lines. To be tardy would also be a faux pas.

  “I think,” she said, lifting her chin that she might meet his eyes from within the depths of her hood, “That it would be best to go in with the rest, do you not think, Your Grace? I should not like to miss a moment if that is all right with you.”

  It was perhaps a brave speech for inside she w
as quailing at the very idea of walking into a crowded room. The last time she had tried such had been a handful of years ago, at her coming out, which had ended so disastrously.

  But those were girls, little more than children. They were not used to seeing a face like mine, so it was normal for them to react fearfully. Surely this is different, for only the finer members of society would attend such a performance. The Duke himself seems unmoved by my appearance, so too will the rest of the ton.

  He looked at her for a long moment, though in his eyes she saw an appreciation for her statement. Then he agreed that it was better not to be late and was relieved that she felt the same. She was glad now that she had discussed the matter with Phoebe previously, so she knew how to answer. So, it was when the door opened for her, and she stepped into the opulence of the theatre lobby that she was unprepared for what she saw.

  The gaslights lent a bright, even gay air to the entire gathering. Exquisitely dressed women in gowns of silk and lace milled in the open room, some heading toward the double doors that opened into what she guessed was the theatre beyond. Others ascended the grand staircase, leading no doubt to other seating in a balcony perhaps. The men were grand in evening dress.