Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EVELINE/HELENA

H ow was she going to avoid being measured against the print?

Miss Webb had an alibi… her fiancé, but Helena, what explanation could she offer when her foot matched the exact shape and size of the stain?

She ran down the corridor, her mind racing with plausible excuses.

Maybe if she gave it all back? If she said she found everything hidden somewhere and… and what? Retreat to the shadows when Miss Drummond revealed Helena's true moniker to be Miss Eveline Braddock, liar and fugitive fiancée. She wouldn't escape Humphrey again.

Stocking feet slipping on the staircase, Helena grabbed hold of the handrail, then hurried up the remaining steps to her bedchamber, the only unsearched room on this floor. She darted into the chamber, shut the door as quietly as possible, and dragged a heavy armchair in front of the door, wedging the chair back beneath the handle.

Her jewelry box seemed a brilliant hiding location in the early morning hours. However, Helena almost fainted when the Duke of Mansfield unlatched and opened the gold inlaid lid of Miss Webb's wooden container.

She hastened across the floor, snatched a key from a small drawer in her dressing table, and unlocked her jewelry box. Lifting the lid, she peeked behind her to ensure the chair was still in place, then shoved her hand into the box, digging until she found the three gold chains and the Duke of Lennox's ring.

The sunlight streaming through the window caught the ruby, painting scarlet rainbows across the vanity. She sighed. Despite her situation, she knew she wouldn't forgive herself for handing over the Duke of Lennox's family heirloom to Miss Drummond.

But the ring couldn't be discovered in her possession.

Her gaze slid over the furnishings, seeking a unique hiding place—somewhere the pragmatic Duke of Mansfield wouldn't think to search—and landed on a vase of sharp holly branches adorning the mantel above the fireplace.

The corner of her mouth pulled.

Anyone fool enough to stick their hand in that vase deserved to find the ring.

Rising on her toes, she gingerly wove her fingers between the thick, spiky leaves, sucking in a quick breath when one of the spines stabbed the back of her hand. She released the ring, waiting until a muted thud indicated the heavy gold circle landed on the bottom of the vase, then retracted her arm, adding a second scratch to her skin.

Certain Miss Drummond would offer no respite a second time, Helena returned to her dressing table and sorted through the paltry collection of paste jewelry she possessed. There was only one piece of comparable value to the Duke of Lennox's ring, an item she'd secreted out of her brother's house when she departed for Wiltshire—her mother's pearl and gold necklace.

"Miss Rowe?" Knocking accompanied Miss Webb's tentative question.

Helena turned with a squeak and darted across the room, calling, "I'll just be a moment."

She snatched her slippers from beside the door, stuck two fobs in the toe of one shoe and the last chain in the other, then shoved her feet into the slippers. Grunting, she wrestled the chair away from the door, dropping the necklace in her hurry and issuing a low curse.

"Do you need any assistance?" Miss Webb asked, concern filling her query.

Helena yanked open the door, hoping her manic appearance wouldn't further worry Miss Webb, and forced a smile. "Everything is fine. While in the library, I realized I hadn't verified if I was missing anything."

A frown carved its way across Miss Webb's forehead. "Are you?"

"I am not," she replied and leaned over, plucking her mother's necklace from the floor. "I was most apprehensive regarding this."

"That's beautiful," Miss Webb breathed, bending over Helena's hand and inspecting the necklace. "Did the piece belong to your mother?"

"It did." Helena blinked rapidly, fighting the tears that gathered whenever she thought of her mother's sudden death.

"You should wear it this morning."

"The necklace is too extravagant for everyday."

"Nonsense." Miss Webb waved off Helena's argument, indicating she should spin around.

"Do they have any suspects?" Helena dug the toe of her left slipper into the floor, attempting to shift the position of the fob.

Miss Webb's fingers stilled. "The Duke of Mansfield suggested that the lady must have attended last night's function and overheard the wager you made with the Duke of Lennox."

"How would the thief know if he won the bet?" Helena asked in a flat tone. "Only Miss Philbert is missing from those of us who witnessed the Duke of Lennox's triumph."

"Winifred asked that very same question," Miss Webb said, fiddling with the necklace clasp. "The Duke of Warwick provided a simple and quite alarming answer."

Eyes widening, Helena spun around and grabbed Miss Webb's wrists. "Which was?"

"She waited outside, watching, and when no one else departed after Miss Philbert and the Duke of Grisham, the thief deduced the Duke of Lennox had bested you." Miss Webb drew her hands from Helena's grip. "I fear the Duke of Warwick's theory is correct."

"We cannot accuse every lady who attended last night." Helena's hand moved to her throat, her fingers brushing over the stones—an automatic habit developed from the fear of losing the necklace.

"Very true." Miss Webb touched the tip of her finger to her lips. "I suppose we'll have to steal all their shoes."

Helena laughed, the iron corset crushing her lungs easing a tiny fraction.

"Come, Miss Rowe," Miss Webb said, looping her arm through Helena's. "A comparison must be made between the footprint and your slipper so we may discount you as a suspect."

Or she would be arrested, placed in manacles, paraded down the street, and imprisoned for stealing from a duke—three dukes. Even with over one hundred miles between them, Humphrey still managed to cause destruction… just as he promised he would should she refuse him.

Gulping, Helena nodded, allowing Miss Webb to drag her numb body from the room. Each step closer to the library brought renewed dread. Halfway down the staircase, Miss Webb paused, stopping Helena from descending.

"Did you hear that?" Miss Webb asked, her face scrunching into a frown as she listened to the silence.

Helena strained her ears. "I can hear our guests conversing in the library, but I cannot make out the words."

"No, not them." Miss Webb gazed into the distance, her unfocused eyes sliding over Helena. "The noise resembled metal, as though a small chain was clinking against something."

Curling her toes around the gold fobs hidden in her shoes, Helena feigned listening. "I hear nothing."

"Ah, well." Miss Webb reset her hold on Helena's arm. "Perhaps the excitement of the morning has me hearing apparitions."

"Just as long as you don't see Mr. Philbert's ghost," Helena replied, her mouth twitching.

The ladies broke into giggles, laughing until they reached the library doorway.

The Duke of Roxburghe appeared before them and extended his hand to Miss Webb, pulling her into his arms.

"What has you so amused, my dear?"

"Mr. Philbert's ghost," Miss Webb replied, locking eyes with Helena as she passed.

Helena turned away, covering her mouth with her hand as she fought to prevent another giggle from escaping, and crashed into the Duke of Lennox.

"My apologies, Your Grace!" she stammered, offering him a low curtsey. "I didn't see you."

He raised his eyebrows, a silent reply to her flimsy excuse for bumping into him. "Hopefully, you didn't see the spirit of Mr. Philbert, either."

"We did not." Her heart thrummed under his intense inspection.

"Consider yourself blessed." The Duke of Beaufort offered his hand to Helena, stretching across the Duke of Lennox. "Warwick and I were unfortunate enough to meet his ghost last night."

"You did?" Helena's jaw dropped, her head swiveling toward Warwick.

He issued one grave nod and pointed at the Duke of Beaufort with his cane. "He nearly killed me trying to escape from it."

"I did not!" The Duke of Beaufort lowered his arm and marched across the room, his hands clenching into fists.

"You cannot strike an?—"

The word died on Helena's tongue as the Duke of Warwick swung his cane, hitting the Duke of Beaufort's shoulder three times before he reacted.

"Ow!" The Duke of Beaufort danced away, clutching his arm.

"As you can see," the Duke of Lennox took Helena's elbow, the heat from his fingers blazing through her delicate sleeve and burning her skin, "Warwick may appear defenseless, but he's the most dangerous of us all, for he possesses a constant weapon."

"Still…"

"He's asked one thing of us." The Duke of Lennox paused, his gaze finding Warwick. "That we treat him as we always had, including trouncing him when he disparages one of our names."

"However," the Duke of Mansfield said, taking Helena's other arm and leading her toward the corner of the library, "none of us have actually succeeded in that task."

Her gaze dropped to the betraying footprint.

They'd arrest her that evening. When Miss Webb was suspected of murder at the Duke of Lennox's Christmas ball, the parish constable transported her to the jail within an hour of the accusation.

"Don't fret, Miss Rowe." The Duke of Lennox patted her trembling hand. "We'll discover who committed this crime."

That's exactly what she feared.

"Peculiar," the Duke of Mansfield said, kneeling by Helena's shoes. "Just like Miss Webb, your foot is the same size as this slush stain."

Craning his head, the Duke of Roxburghe moved closer, his arm still wrapped around Miss Webb's waist. "However, unlike Miss Webb, I cannot account for Miss Rowe's whereabouts."

The Duke of Lennox scoffed. "Are you suggesting that Miss Rowe decided to forego the front door in favor of a library window, damaging her own property in an effort to enter the house in an unconventional manner?"

"Most likely," the Duke of Mansfield said, rising and brushing his hands against each other, "Miss Rowe and Miss Webb possess a most common foot size among women, and neither of them should be considered a suspect."

"I'll determine that," a firm voice said.

"Mr. Hughes." The Duke of Lennox released Helena's arm and strode across the library, greeting the constable with a formal bow. "I'd like to say it's a pleasure to see you again, but you only appear when there's trouble."

"I could say the same thing to you, Your Grace." Mr. Hughes pushed the corners of his mouth into a half-smile. "Have you discovered another body?"

The Duke of Roxburghe—and Miss Webb— moved aside, revealing the stain. "A footprint."

"That's hardly cause to request my immediate presence," Mr. Hughes said, acknowledging Miss Webb with a quick head bob.

"Is theft?" The Duke of Mansfield snapped, his sharp response causing Helena to take an involuntary step away from him.

Mr. Hughes swore under his breath. "Who was affected?"

"Lennox, Beaufort, and I." The Duke of Mansfield pointed to each person as he named them. "Three gold watch fobs and one ruby ring."

"Value?" asked Mr. Hughes, crouching beside the footprint.

"Immeasurable." The Duke of Lennox slid around Helena and placed himself between her and the rest of the room.

"Due to the size, I think we're seeking a woman." Mr. Hughes touched the base of the slush stain.

"We thought the same," the Duke of Lennox said, indicating the Duke of Mansfield with his chin. "It appears she entered through that window."

Mr. Hughes stood, walked to the window, and examined the damaged latch. "Did you search the house to confirm the items were indeed missing?"

"Every chamber with the exception of Miss Rowe's," the Duke of Lennox said, drawing Helena to his side. "Before we could, the footprint was discovered."

Mr. Hughes turned to her. "Do you protest an inspection of your chamber?"

"Of course not," Helena replied, praying no one could hear the rapid beating of her heart. "I'm ashamed the incident occurred in my home."

The Duke of Lennox spun, taking her hands in his. "Do not, for one moment, place the blame upon yourself, Miss Rowe. You didn't do this."

But she had.

Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to slide down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," she whispered, ripped her hands from his grip, and ran from the room.

Skidding to a halt in the foyer, she oscillated between heading outside into the cold and waiting until the search of her chamber was completed before thinking up an excuse to leave the house for her meeting with Miss Drummond.

"I searched the grounds," Mr. Hughes said as though Helena hadn't just transformed into a blubbering mess and rushed from the library, "and discovered one set of footprints winding around the side of the house. They stopped at each window. Clearly, the person intended to enter by force."

Helena pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling her tears, and strained to listen to Mr. Hughes.

"I also discovered this, hidden by the doorstep." Mr. Hughes paused, showing the item.

Should she creep back down the hallway and peek in?

"Does it mean anything to anyone here? A message of love, perhaps?"

What was it?

A chorus of ‘nos' echoed from the library.

"I'll ask Miss Rowe when she returns." Mr. Hughes' voice neared the doorway, and Helena scurried toward the front door.

As she grabbed her pelisse from the rack, the Duke of Lennox said, "She may not; Miss Rowe loathes lavender."

Eyes widening, Helena unlocked and ripped open the door, jumping outside before the scream bubbling up in her throat exploded through her lips. She hastened down the path, slipping on the ice.

One of the fobs shifted, stabbing her in the bottom of the foot, and she cried out. Stuffing her fist into her mouth, she bit down, then forced her body forward, limping toward the fence.

Since Miss Drummond took every crown last night, Helena couldn't hire transportation. Shivering, she turned to her left and hobbled to the corner, biting her lip every time she stepped on her left foot.

When she reached the corner, she leaned against her neighbor's—the horrible mother of Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb—fence, praying that Mrs. Webb had slept in late that morning, and pulled off her shoe. Tipping it over, Helena tapped the gold fob into her palm, then slid the shoe back on with a sigh.

She yanked off the second shoe and upended it as well. One gold chain fell into her hand, and the other slipped past her fingers, dropping onto the pavement with a soft clink.

"Bollocks!" She said the curse word under her breath and immediately cringed, recalling Humphrey's violent displeasure upon hearing her swear.

She jerked on the shoe, then shoved her hand into the thin coating of snow covering the sidewalk and dragged her fingers along the ground, searching for the third fob. Her pinkie touched something cold, and, praying it was the missing gold chain, she curled the tip of her finger around the item and dragged it toward her.

It was the fob!

Relief washed over her as she rose. She raced down the street, a strange feeling of buoyancy carrying her the half-mile to Mr. Venning's lavish residence.

When Helena reached the doorstep, she paused, exhaled, then lifted her hand and rapped sharply on the front door. A butler opened the door a moment later, his bushy eyebrows raised in silent comment regarding the early hour.

"Good morning. Miss Drummond is expecting me," Helena said, adding a curtsey.

The eyebrows floated higher. "She's still abed."

"I'm to wake her," Helena said, flashing a debonair smile. "She made the request to me last evening before leaving my home. I have the remainder of her winnings."

That sounded plausible.

"Ah." The butler nodded, his stone facade melting. "I heard Miss Drummond was quite fortunate."

"She was," Helena bit off, then widened her smile when the butler frowned. "If you don't mind, I'd like to deliver this and be on my way."

"Of course, Miss…"

"Rowe."

"Please follow me," said the butler, ushering her into the house.

However, instead of leading her to the upstairs chambers, he indicated she should wait in an informal sitting room to their right.

"I'll return shortly," he said, his face pinching into a resolute scowl.

Helena wandered toward the center of the room, trailing her fingertips along the back of a pale periwinkle sofa. Her gaze slid over a pair of exquisite, matching armchairs, imported most likely from France. Before she could convince herself to sit on one of the lavish pieces, the door opened.

"You surprise me, Miss Rowe," Miss Drummond said as she swept into the room. "I expected to hear you'd departed suddenly… again."

"I like Wiltshire," said Helena, striding forward and holding out her hand.

She opened her fist, revealing the three gold fobs. Miss Drummond issued a low whistle and bent forward, poking at the chains.

"I'm impressed." Lifting her gaze, Miss Drummond smiled, but the sentiment didn't reach her eyes. "Are you a suspect in the thefts?"

Shaking her head, Helena flipped over her hand and dropped the fobs into Miss Drummond's outstretched palm. "I consider my obligation fulfilled."

Miss Drummond fingered the chains, rubbing them between her thumb and pointer.

"I don't," she said after a long moment. "However, if you include that necklace, I'll agree that your debt is paid."

Fingers brushing over the stones, Helena nodded, swallowing her protest. As she unclasped the necklace, a heavy weight settled in her chest. She held out her hand and, before she could change her mind, released the jewelry into Miss Drummond's possession.

"Excellent." Miss Drummond fastened the necklace around her throat. "That only leaves restitution for two more fiancés."

"Pardon?" Helena's mouth popped open.

"Two more," Miss Drummond repeated, her eyes narrowing to slits. "I lost three suitors to your sisters, and I expect compensation for those losses."

Helena gasped, the blood draining from her body. "You can't expect me to pay another two hundred pounds."

"Don't be absurd," Miss Drummond said, waving her hand. "I want four hundred."

The room spun, the blue colors whirling faster and faster. As the blackness crept into the edges of her vision, Helena's hand flew out, grabbing hold of the sofa.

"I cannot," she whispered, numbness spreading through her limbs. "The task is impossible."

The corner of Miss Drummond's mouth twisted up. "Consider your options, then reply to me with your answer."

"N—"

Miss Drummond held up her hand. "Before you reply, remember there are worse things to fear than my brother. If you cross me, I will destroy you, Eveline."