Chapter Seventeen

W hen Helen arrived home, she'd wanted to climb the stone fence and check on Mark. Unfortunately, her mother met her at the door and ordered her to go straight to her dressing room for a bath.

Her hair was still slightly damp when her maid arranged it for dinner. Helen put on the dress her mother had chosen. They were going to the theatre after. Helen liked plays, but according to Frederica, going to the theatre was being put on display. Like a painting. The candles in their box would illuminate them for all the other guests to see and gawk at. She shivered at the thought. Her maid wrapped her shoulders with a shawl. Helen could only thank her. She didn't bother explaining that the full body shiver had nothing to do with her temperature and everything to do with the ton .

Opening the door to the parlour, she found Samuel and Frederica kissing. A year ago, she would have gone back out, blushing. But their kissing was so commonplace that she simply cleared her throat loudly. They broke apart, smiling at each other.

Helen huffed. ‘I like it better when you're quarrelling.'

‘Some day you'll discover that kissing is much more enjoyable than quarrelling,' Frederica said loftily.

Helen glared back at her sister, but couldn't help but think of Mark's feverish kisses. They had certainly been more than enjoyable. She'd dreamed of them and woke up this morning feeling warm and disappointed that he wasn't there.

Samuel stepped away from his wife and picked up a thin box. He handed it to Helen without a word. Opening it up, she saw Mark's finished drawings of the snakes. They were no longer simple sketches, but intricately rendered images of the original creature. Lifting them one by one, she saw that they were beautiful. Mark had seen the beauty of the snake as well as its dangerous nature.

‘Is he feeling better?'

Her brother-in-law did not look her in the eyes. ‘I saw him at our club yesterday. I think he is fully recovered.'

‘Yesterday? Why did you not give them to me then?'

Samuel glanced at Frederica. Stepping forward, she took his hand. Somehow it felt as if they were now two against Helen's one. They were teaming up for something. Something unpleasant. She could tell from previous experiences.

Frederica gave her a pitying smile. ‘You see, Helen dearest, Samuel wanted to talk to me about it first.'

Helen shook her head, snorting. ‘He needed your permission to deliver a package to me? And you call me the bossy one.'

Her sister gave a speaking glance to her husband.

Samuel nodded, clearing his throat. ‘Inverness doesn't want to see you, Helen.'

‘But we're friends.'

‘Not any more.'

Something inside Helen fell into her stomach. Her heart? Her lungs? Her spleen? It sloshed down there uncomfortably, making her belly turn. ‘Is it because of my wading in the Serpentine? It was one little mistake. Everybody makes mistakes. I didn't mean to worry him, or to embarrass him.'

Or to have kissed him.

‘When he brought you home, you were as pale as death,' Samuel said slowly. ‘And I think Lord Inverness has seen too much death in his life.'

Poor Mark. There were no words in any human or animal language that could have expressed her anguish. And she had done this to him . Her dear friend who was chased by the ghosts of his past and his lost leg.

‘Do you think he hates me now?'

Samuel shook his head. ‘Worse.'

Helen rubbed her dry eyes. ‘What is worse than hate?'

Frederica stepped forward, pulling Helen into a hug. ‘We think he loves you, Helen. And that is why he wants to stay away from you.'

Helen burrowed her face into Frederica's taller shoulder. Clinging to her sister for comfort and strength. ‘If he loves me, why would he stay away?'

‘Because you're engaged to Jason, Helen,' Samuel said, from behind them. ‘He is being an honourable man. And Inverness was greatly wounded during the war.'

‘I don't want him to be honourable. I want him to be my friend.'

Frederica patted Helen's damp hair. ‘Friendship between men and women is difficult. And often not possible once you're married.'

Helen shook her head, rubbing her nose on the lace trim of Frederica's dress. ‘That is ridiculous. Males and females of all species can be friends. It is not always about mating.'

Samuel coughed. He must have recalled Mark's state of disarray in the carriage.

But Helen did not stop. ‘Mama has been dear friends with the Prince Regent for thirty years and there is nothing sensual between them.'

Her brother-in-law patted her shoulder and Frederica held her tighter. ‘I am not saying that men and women cannot be friends, but surely you feel differently towards Jason than you do to Mark?'

‘Of course. They are different people. How could I possibly feel the same way about both of them?'

She felt her sister swallow before speaking. ‘The thing is... Not everyone feels the same way about each other. Sometimes one person loves another and that feeling is not returned. Because it cannot or should not be. Mark can no longer be your friend because he has developed feelings for you.'

Helen twisted away from her. Mark could ignore those feelings, just like she did. ‘Mantheria is friends with her estranged husband and his mistress! She even travels with them.'

Frederica held out her hands, but Helen didn't take them. ‘Mantheria and Glastonbury have a child together. They all do it for Andrew's sake. They want him to feel as though he has a normal, loving family.'

‘And when you are the wife of the vicar,' Mama said, walking into the room like the Queen of England, ‘you will not be allowed to have any male friends. Even the slightest hint of indiscretion will ruin you and your husband. The lower and middle classes are much more constrained than the beau monde. Although women are held to a higher standard than men in all the classes.'

Helen breathed in deeply, finding it difficult to get enough oxygen to her brain. ‘Am I never to have any male friends again?'

‘You'll have Jason,' Frederica said, with a too-bright smile.

But somehow that didn't feel like enough. As much as she enjoyed his company, it had never been enough for her. Nor did she burn for him like she did for Mark's kisses.

Helen could only be grateful that they were attending the theatre this evening. She could not have danced and given even the appearance of good manners and civility.

Samuel had secured them a box at the theatre in Convent Garden. The play was supposed to be a comedy, but Helen was in no mood to laugh. Samuel and Frederica sat in the front row of the box, holding hands. She and Mama sat behind them. Helen watched him caress Frederica's hand with his thumb.

Would she no longer be able to be Samuel's friend either?

Her brother-in-law annoyed her to no end, but she enjoyed spending time with him. His wit was as sharp as his sword and he played the most amusing pranks on members of the family. Herself included. And there was no dare too foolhardy that he wouldn't take it. That was something that hadn't changed about him since they'd all grown up.

Yawning, Helen laid her head on her mother's shoulder. Mama, not one for public displays of affection, surprisingly put her arm around Helen and allowed her to snuggle closer. Closing her eyes, Helen decided that even prickly hedgehogs could be good cuddlers. Yet she missed Becca. Her little sister would have been on her side. She would not have lectured or corrected Helen. She simply would have supported and loved her. But Becca wasn't there because Helen couldn't be trusted to behave properly. A fair, but unkind assessment of their mother's that Helen had no doubt reinforced by her dip in the Serpentine.

Her mother patted her back. ‘Helen, it's the intermission, you need to wake up.'

Blinking, Helen realised that she had been sleeping on her mother's lap. Mama fussed with her hair and Frederica giggled.

Samuel laughed, too. ‘I take it this is your favourite play.'

Shrugging, Helen smirked. ‘You all know that I am not a night owl.'

The door to their box opened. Helen expected to see Wick or Matthew, but not the stork-like Lord Dutton, the gangly boy she'd danced with once because Lady Dutton had made him.

He bowed. ‘I hope you do not mind my intrusion, but I have a friend from university who is eager to see you.'

Her eyes moved to the doorway where a young man stood wearing a fancy new suit of clothes. His teeth were flashing in a large smile. His light hair curled around his ears, which endearingly stuck out a little.

‘Jason.'