Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

EVELINE/HELENA

A n introduction should never begin with a lie, especially not one as gigantic as the falsehood Eveline told, but she'd blurted out the words before she could stop herself, and it was too late to change the consequences.

"Miss Rowe!"

Ducking her head, she lifted her skirts and quickened her pace, hoping to reach her house before the Duke of Lennox's coach caught up to her.

"Miss Rowe!" He climbed from the carriage and chased her down the snow-covered street.

She couldn't ignore him, not when he'd bellowed her name with such volume that the whole of the ton stopped and waited, holding their collective breaths in the hopes of witnessing a cataclysmic snub.

Pasting a giant smile on her face, she spun around, clasping her hands in front of her waist as she curtsied. "Your Grace, how lovely to see you this morning."

"Did you not hear me shouting?" he asked, drawing in a ragged breath when he reached her side.

"I apologize. My mind was elsewhere."

She'd been Miss Helena Rowe for a little over two months, and she still didn't recognize her name when addressed.

"You must be focused on the wedding events." The Duke of Lennox offered his arm and, after she set her hand on the crook of his elbow, escorted her down the icy sidewalk toward her home.

"Is that why you've come?" she asked, not refuting his theory regarding the reason for her disregard. "You're rescuing the Duke of Roxburghe from becoming the sole gentleman in attendance this evening?"

"Goodness, no." The Duke of Lennox laughed, his delight wrapping around her like a warm shawl. "I'm here to liberate him from the fetters of that matrimonial obligation."

"It's my impression that he doesn't wish to be saved from his current situation."

"He's going to be abducted whether he wants to leave his fiancée or not." The Duke of Lennox flashed a cheeky grin. "His friends have great plans tonight, and he's not allowed to bow out. I'm to bring him through the use of any means."

"Do you intend to use force against Miss Webb and her sister as well?"

A small line worked its way across the Duke of Lennox's forehead. "Will I need to?"

"Perhaps," Eveline—correction, Helena—said, turning at the break in the fence that designated the path leading to her house, "and I caution you against that choice."

He twitched, irritation spilling across his face, and he drew away from her. "I've never struck a woman!"

She'd offended him.

"I apologize, Your Grace," she stammered, adding a quick curtsy. "I wasn't suggesting you possessed a violent nature. I was merely warning you of the singular determination of Miss Webb and her sister."

"And what are they determined to do?" There was an undercurrent of mistrust in his tone.

Helena grinned. "Arrange a night of games in the parlor."

"And lighten some pockets," the Duke of Roxburghe said from the doorstep.

The Duke of Lennox leaned around Helena. "However, you've discounted yourself from participating."

"I had not," the Duke of Roxburghe replied. "It's a rare occasion that I find myself alone with my fiancée, and tonight, I intend to remind her why she's marrying me."

Miss Webb appeared behind the Duke of Roxburghe. "I hope it's because you believe I love you."

"That's one of the reasons." He spun around and wrapped Miss Webb in a tight embrace. "However, I know of a few others."

Helena couldn't hear what he whispered to Miss Webb, but her cheeks flushed a brilliant scarlet, and she lowered her head, hiding her face against his dark gray coat.

The Duke of Roxburghe brushed his lips across the top of her forehead, then glanced over. "Lennox, please inform my fiancée?—"

"And her sister," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, materializing behind them.

The Duke of Roxburghe nodded to her as though accepting her correction. "Why I cannot attend tonight's festivities."

Annoyance flickered through the Duke of Lennox's chocolate eyes. "It is a women's function."

"I'm the exception." The Duke of Roxburghe grinned, puffing out his chest. "But I could get you an invitation." Cupping his hand around his mouth, the Duke of Roxburghe leaned closer to his friend. "I know the hosts."

"As delightful as an evening with three of the town's most beautiful ladies would be,"—the Duke of Lennox removed his hat and bowed to each woman—"I must decline the offer, as must you. We have a prior obligation."

"And if I refuse?"

The corner of the Duke of Lennox's mouth pulled into a smirk. "I'm to use any means in my imagination."

The Duke of Roxburghe lifted his hands in mock defense. "I would loathe trouncing you in front of witnesses. However, if you insist I shirk my duties?—"

"What duties?" The smile on the Duke of Lennox's lips faltered. "I know of no other commitment."

"I promised my fiancée,"—the Duke of Roxburghe lifted Miss Webb's hand and kissed it—"that I would assist with the preparations for tonight's function as Miss Rowe doesn't employ any males on her staff."

A sigh escaped the Duke of Lennox, and he shifted his gaze to Helena as though seeking support for his argument.

She took pity on him. "If you also helped, Your Grace, the task would be completed without too much loss of time. Could you spare an hour?"

"For Roxburghe?"

"For me."

"Certainly, Miss Rowe." The Duke of Lennox favored her with a dazzling smile.

"Thank you," she replied, unable to hear her words over the erratic thrumming of her heart.

Turning away, she floated over the snow toward the house, struggling to keep the silly grin—which seemed to appear every time the Duke of Lennox was near—from appearing on her face.

A light flickered in Miss Webb's honey-colored eyes, and she glanced at her sister, a silent conversation passing between them.

Helena swallowed.

She'd known the Webb sisters only a few weeks, but her experience with them showed that both ladies were intelligent, observant, and partial to the unconventional, which was a dangerous combination since they were staring at Helena as though she was a newly discovered, diverting distraction.

"No," Helena mouthed as she passed between the sisters.

Miss Fernsby-Webb grinned. "Miss Rowe, whatever are you referring to?"

"The plan I see formulating in your minds," Helena said, striding through the foyer toward the dining room.

"I'm thinking of nothing but this evening's festivities." Miss Fernsby-Webb followed Helena down the hallway. "There are a fair number of guests coming this evening."

Helena gulped and twisted around. "How many ladies did you invite?"

"Sixteen. However, that number includes us," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, grunting as she dragged a chair across the dining room floor toward the exit. "Four tables shouldn't be too overwhelming."

The Duke of Roxburghe appeared in the doorway with Miss Webb, one arm draped over her shoulder in a possessive manner that caused a sharp pang of jealousy to slice through Helena's heart.

"Will there be cake?" he asked, a glint of amusement hovering in his blue eyes. "My fiancée must have cake at every possible occasion."

"Your Grace!" Miss Webb flushed and spun around, taking a playful swipe at him. "There doesn't need to be cake at every event I attend."

"Of course, there does." He wiggled his eyebrows. "It's your favorite, and since you're going to become my duchess, you need to accept that I'm going to give you everything you want."

"Anything I want?" Miss Webb asked, her tone implying something wicked.

The Duke of Roxburghe groaned and wrapped his arms around Miss Webb, drawing her flush against his body. His mouth lingered near her temple as though he wanted to kiss her but couldn't follow through on that desire due to their audience.

His eyes found the Duke of Lennox as he entered the dining room. "Lennox, I cannot attend this evening?—"

"No." The Duke of Lennox strode over to Miss Fernsby-Webb and took possession of her chair.

"I haven't given my excuse."

"I won't hear one." The Duke of Lennox carted the wooden chair across the room, stopping beside the Duke of Roxburghe and Miss Webb. "I agreed to one hour, nothing more. If I have to beat you unconscious and then drag you behind my coach, I will do so."

The Duke of Roxburghe scowled. "Our friends?—"

"Would support my decision." Inclining his head, the Duke of Lennox disappeared into the hallway.

Pursing his lips, the Duke of Roxburghe grabbed the nearest chair, jerking it with more force than necessary, and strode after the Duke of Lennox, a cloud of annoyance chasing him.

"It's very kind of them to assist us." Helena wrapped her hands around a chair back and heaved, dragging the chair backward a few inches. "I don't know how long it would have taken without them."

"I'm certain we could manage without too much trouble." Miss Webb copied Helena, pulling her chair halfway across the room. "Didn't you say you'd planned all three of your sisters' weddings?"

"I had help," Helena said with a grunt.

"Who?" Miss Webb flicked her gaze to Helena. "Your sisters? Their fiancés? I don't recall you speaking much about them."

An intended oversight, as it was easier to maintain the lie with fewer details.

"I don't like to discuss my family," Helena replied, wrestling her chair into the corridor. "I miss them too much to reminisce."

Miss Fernsby-Webb leaned backward into the hallway. "If we guess their names, will you confirm we're correct?"

What harm could come from a silly game? It was near impossible that either lady had met her sisters… or her brother, for that matter.

"Alright." Helena chuckled. "You may guess."

"May we have a hint?" Miss Webb asked, joining them.

A chorus of wooden chair legs scraping on the corridor's long, thick carpet accompanied them as they dragged the seats toward the parlor.

"One hint." Helena expelled a burst of air, blowing a loose piece of hair from in front of her eyes.

"With what letter of the alphabet do their given names begin?"

Pausing, Helena released her chair and straightened. She swiped the hair from her face, glanced over her shoulder at the parlor, ensuring both dukes were still inside the room, then leaned forward and lowered her voice.

"E."

"E?" Miss Fernsby-Webb frowned. "All three of them?"

Helena nodded.

"But not you?"

Dropping her gaze, Helena grabbed hold of the chair again and shook her head. She didn't trust her voice not to crack.

She hated lying to them, but it was safer if Eveline Braddock didn't exist.

"Elizabeth," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, yanking her chair even with Helena's.

"No." Helena lifted her head and crooked the corner of her mouth, returning Miss Fernsby-Webb's infectious smile. "But that is a popular name."

"Elenore?" Miss Webb said as they entered the parlor.

Helena flicked her eyes to Miss Webb. "Also, no."

The Duke of Lennox appeared before them and took Helena's chair, his finger brushing against hers as his hands curved around the wood.

"Elenore?" he asked, a slight frown on his face.

"Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb are attempting to guess my sisters' names," Helena replied, regretting her decision to agree to the game.

"Have they succeeded?" He plunked the chair down on the empty side of a square table, one of four scattered across the parlor.

"They have not." She walked to a mahogany linen press hidden in the far corner of the parlor, pulled out the middle drawer, and selected several white tablecloths.

"What is the prize if they win?"

The Duke of Lennox's nearness startled Helena, and she emitted a tiny squeak, her head whipping to the right. He stood beside her—almost at an unacceptable distance—and extended his hand to collect the stack of linens.

"Merely the amusement of guessing correctly." Relinquishing the tablecloths, she returned her attention to the drawer, firmly instructing her heart to slow its rapid rhythm.

"Did you provide any hints?" He separated the stack and gave Miss Fernsby-Webb half of the coverings.

"Miss Rowe revealed that all three names begin with the letter ‘E'." Miss Fernsby-Webb shook out the first cloth, spreading the material over the nearest table.

"Intriguing." The Duke of Lennox passed Miss Webb the other half of the linens. "Is there a reason you've kept the names secret, Miss Rowe?"

"No, Your Grace." Helena yanked a pile of napkins from the linen press, then shoved the drawer closed with her leg. "It merely saddens me to think of them. They live so far away."

"Perhaps they will visit someday." He offered her a kind smile.

"Perhaps," Helena replied, shuffling toward the first table. "However, as they are all newly wedded, their focus is on their husbands."

Shaking out the second table covering, Miss Fernsby-Webb glanced over at Helena. "Were they all love matches?"

"They were." Helena smiled, warmed by the memory of her sisters' euphoric faces. "I hope I'll find the same happiness as them and your sister one day."

"You've never been in love?" Miss Fernsby-Webb's question stopped the Duke of Lennox from exiting the room.

He paused in the doorway, hovering between the parlor and the hallway, and waited for Helena's response.

She forced her gaze to remain locked on Miss Fernsby-Webb.

"I would like to say yes, as I believe that is an emotion everyone should experience. Regrettably, I wasn't as fortunate as my sisters."

Unlucky was a far better description for the arranged marriage her brother secured with Mr. Humphrey Drummond, who had never had a chance to place his claim on Helena despite several attempts to brutally force himself upon her.

Even though she had shared her concern regarding the match, her brother refused to end the engagement. Therefore, Miss Eveline Braddock rescued herself, changing her name and leaving no trace of her destination. While she regretted the worry her disappearance caused her brother and sisters, she knew the decision had saved her life.

"Do not despair," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, adjusting the tablecloth. "Cupid's arrow may yet discover you in Wiltshire."

Miss Webb cleared her throat, then tilted her head toward the now-vacant door frame. "Once we're alone, and before our guests arrive, I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you both."

Miss Fernsby-Webb's eyes bulged.

"Are you with child?" She darted across the room, collided with her sister, and grabbed hold of Miss Webb's shoulders.

"I'm not," Miss Webb said with a nervous chuckle as she detangled herself from Miss Fernsby-Webb. "Nor should you suggest such a scandal. I am the fiancée of a duke."

"Yes, you are." The Duke of Roxburghe's voice boomed as he appeared behind her, holding another chair. "And we'll withstand whatever rumor your sister has heard."

"It wasn't a rumor," Miss Webb replied, moving aside to let him pass. "It was merely a concern of hers."

"After your wedding," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, her tone severe, "that issue will no longer plague me."

The Duke of Roxburghe shifted his intimidating gaze to her sister. "And what is Miss Fernsby-Webb's fear?"

"Children."

He dropped the chair, his eyes swiveling back to Miss Webb, an unreadable expression on his face. "Is this something we need to discuss?"

"No, Your Grace." A tiny smile cracked Miss Webb's face. "That is not a concern at this present moment."

"I think I'm in need of a drink." He sank down onto the chair and exhaled.

A soft chuckle crawled into the room, announcing the arrival of the Duke of Lennox. "I see it wasn't necessary to sway Roxburghe's mind toward escape; his own worry has done that for me."

Scowling, the Duke of Roxburghe rose and shoved his chair into place. "Had you received the same distressing news, you would have reacted in a similar manner."

"I," replied the Duke of Lennox, carting his chair across the floor, "wouldn't place myself, nor the woman I loved, in that disreputable position."

"Ah! You admit yourself capable of love."

"I am capable of a great many things." The Duke of Lennox's gaze flicked to Helena.

His eyes remained on her for a fleeting moment, just long enough to make her question his intentions and her sanity, then returned to the Duke of Roxburghe.

"And you, Roxburghe, have delayed long enough. We need to finish this task."

"Do you miss your new living companion that much?" the Duke of Roxburghe snickered as he strolled out of the parlor.

"He's not living at my house!" The Duke of Lennox's irritation echoed down the hallway.

"Who isn't?" Helena hissed the question.

Miss Webb burst into laughter and pressed a cloth napkin to her face, trying to stifle the sound. She failed.

When she regained her composure, she said, "Mr. Philbert's ghost."

"The man who was murdered at the Duke of Lennox's party last month?" Helena gasped, her legs trembling as she leaned against the nearest table.

"It's a fallacy," the Duke of Lennox said, struggling to squeeze himself and two chairs through the doorway. "There is no need to fear my home, Miss Rowe."

"Your Grace,"—Miss Webb extended her arms as she glided toward him—"I believe your hour of service is concluded, and though I do not wish to part from the Duke of Roxburghe, his constant presence makes it near impossible to cause any sort of noteworthy trouble."

The Duke of Lennox laughed, then bowed to Miss Webb. "Then I shall remove that offensive blockade. Good day, ladies."

Abandoning the chairs, he turned around, strode into the hallway, and stopped the Duke of Roxburghe before he entered the parlor.

"We've been dismissed," the Duke of Lennox said, his curt tone surprising Helena.

He seemed so intent on leaving, but when the opportunity presented itself, the opposite appeared to be true. Could she, a wallflower cast aside countless times for younger versions of herself, have attracted the attention of a great man like the Duke of Lennox?

"Your Grace!" Helena darted after them, catching them as the Duke of Lennox opened the front door.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, pausing on the doorstep.

"If you decide later this evening that you prefer not to entertain Mr. Philbert's specter,"—she gestured toward the house—"you and your friends may join us. I'm certain the intrusion wouldn't upset any of our guests."

"Thank you for your kind offer," the Duke of Lennox replied and bowed, his body stiff. "However, I shall have to decline."

Helena curtsied and dropped her head, blinking back tears as the rigid formality of his words dashed any blossoming hope that the Duke of Lennox nurtured an affinity for her.

When she lifted her gaze, she locked eyes with an alarming apparition from her past. Her heart stopped.

It wasn't possible.

Pushing past the Duke of Lennox, Helena ran to the gate. She peered around the side, seeking the familiar coffee-brown hair of Selena Drummond, but the woman had vanished. Trembling, Helena leaned her cheek against the fence post's frozen metal and stared at the empty street.

Had she imagined seeing Humphrey's younger sister?