Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

EVELINE/HELENA

"D amn!" Miss Fernsby-Webb shoved the remaining portion of her coins toward Helena. "You are quite a fortunate woman. If I didn't know you personally, I'd accuse you of cheating."

Helena swallowed. She hadn't cheated once during this game, solely due to Miss Drummond's unwavering interest, which hadn't left Helena's face except to glance at the hand dealt and to place a wager.

Tossing her cards toward Miss Fernsby-Webb, Miss Drummond asked, "How long have you known Miss Rowe?"

"Not long," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, scraping the cards into a pile. "My sister introduced us upon my return."

"I wish I had the opportunity to travel more," Miss Drummond said, placing a coin in the center of the table. "Where did you visit?"

An uncomfortable silence passed over the group. Helena exchanged a look with Miss Sinclair.

"Prison," Miss Fernsby-Webb said as she passed out the cards.

"Oh!" Miss Drummond brightened to scarlet. "I-I apologize. I didn't know."

Miss Fernsby-Webb waved her hand, dismissing the apology. "You couldn't have."

"Were… were you guilty?"

"Goodness, no." Miss Fernsby-Webb chuckled. "You don't think they'd release a felonious woman, do you?"

Her gaze floated to the table beside them just as her sister slammed down her cards, a triumphant smile on her face.

"My sister's fiancé, the Duke of Roxburghe, and his friend assisted with my case." Eyes misting, Miss Fernsby-Webb smiled. "If they hadn't intervened, I might have died in prison."

"Who was his friend?" Miss Drummond asked, gesturing for another card.

"The Duke of Lennox."

Setting down her cards, Miss Drummond turned her full attention to Miss Fernsby-Webb. "I'm not one to meddle, but had you considered thanking him for his aid by becoming his wife?"

Miss Fernsby-Webb burst out laughing. "I don't have designs on any duke. However, I intend to act as a matchmaker for him to express my gratitude."

"If you succeed, I may request your services." Miss Drummond added two more coins to the pile. "I lost three fiancés to the same family."

"The same family?" Miss Sinclair lifted her eyes from her cards and stared at Miss Drummond as though seeing her for the first time. "It must have been sisters."

"It was." Miss Drummond shifted her attention to Helena. "The Braddock sisters."

The blood drained from Helena's face.

She doesn't know who you are. She doesn't know those marriages were arranged by your brother. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. She doesn't ? —

A hand grabbed Helena's right arm, startling her from the torturous thoughts running round and round in her mind, and squeezed. As she glanced to her right, Miss Sinclair sent a subtle wink.

"Take a breath," she mouthed before turning to Miss Drummond and saying, "that name isn't known in Wiltshire."

"Braddock…" A slight wrinkle furrowed Miss Fernsby-Webb's forehead as she lifted her glass of negus.

"I've not heard it either," Helena said quickly, hoping Miss Fernsby-Webb wouldn't recall the surname on the misdelivered letter.

"Then perhaps," Miss Drummond said, her pink lips curving into a smile, "I have a chance with the Duke of Lennox."

Miss Fernsby-Webb shook her head. "There is a whisper that his affections are currently engaged."

"By whom?" Miss Drummond and Miss Sinclair asked at the same time.

Tapping her finger to her lips, Miss Fernsby-Webb indicated Helena with her chin.

"No," Helena spoke firmly, hoping to tamp out the strange light glowing in Miss Drummond's green eyes. "That is a false rumor. There is nothing between the Duke of Lennox and me."

"Good to know," Miss Drummond replied, flipping over her cards and frowning when she realized Helena's hand had beaten hers.

A hushed silence fell over the room as Miss Webb pushed back her chair and rose.

"Ladies, thank you all for coming this evening; we understand that some of you must return home due to the late hour. For those who wish to continue playing?—"

"And still have money," Miss Fernsby-Webb said, earning several giggles.

Inclining her head toward her sister, Miss Webb continued, "We will resume playing again in twenty minutes."

Miss Sinclair leaned over and whispered, "I would like to stay longer."

"Of course." Helena placed her hand on top of Miss Sinclair's. "If you need a place to sleep, I can have a chamber prepared for you."

"That would be lovely." Miss Sinclair leaped to her feet. "After what occurred earlier in the kitchen, I'm certain your housekeeper doesn't like me, and I want to apologize for meddling in her domain."

As Miss Sinclair scampered away, Helena smiled. Standing, she gathered her coins into a mound and brushed the pile of coins into a small, beaded reticule. The weight wasn't enough to equal one hundred pounds, but after the next round of cards, she was certain she'd have enough to pay the unknown author of that letter for their silence.

Hopefully, they only wanted one payment. Helena couldn't imagine what she'd do if they returned and demanded more money.

"What is the truth of Helena Rowe?"

Helena jumped and dropped her purse on the floor. Gasping, she dropped to her knees and scraped the coins toward her, her wild eyes frantically searching the rug for shiny metal circles.

Once she collected all the coins, she rose, placed the reticule on the table, and straightened her skirts. After a minute of fussing, she raised her gaze to Miss Drummond, who stood on the opposite side of the table, her narrowed eyes locked on Helena.

"My apologies," Helena said, unable to hear herself over the hum of her rapidly racing heart. "I didn't hear your question. Would you repeat yourself?"

"I asked," Miss Drummond said, taking a step closer, "what is the truth of Helena Rowe?"

Where had she heard that phrase before? Frowning, Helena cycled through her memories of the evening. Why did those words sound familiar?

Miss Drummond edged closer. "I know."

"The truth?" Helena swallowed. "About what?"

"About you…" Miss Drummond tilted her head. "Eveline Braddock."

"N—"

"Don't lie to me!" She slammed her palm on the table, drawing the attention of Miss Wilmington and her mother, who were conversing with Miss Webb at a nearby table.

"What do you want?" Helena asked, her eyes flicking to the sack of coins on the table.

"One hundred pounds at midnight," Miss Drummond said, tilting her head. "Just as I requested."

"You?" Helena's jaw dropped. "You wrote the letter? How did you know who I was?"

"I saw you." Miss Drummond sneered, her nose wrinkling as she glowered at Helena. "Strolling down the street as though you hadn't run from my brother and destroyed both our lives."

"But my hair…" Helena twisted a loose red strand around her finger.

"I admit the color had me confused, but then I heard you speak,"—she gestured at Helena with a flourish of her hand—"and that convinced me."

"Did you also leave the bouquet of lavender?"

Please tell me it was you and not your brother. I have nowhere to go.

"Why would I leave you favors?" Miss Drummond snorted. "I expect full payment this evening, or tomorrow, I'll not only reveal your true identity to your new friends, but I'll also write to Humphrey and tell him exactly where to find his missing fiancée."

"I ended the engagement," Helena hissed, bringing herself within inches of Miss Drummond's face.

"Did you return the ring?" Miss Drummond jutted out her chin.

A thunderous explosion echoed through the foyer as though the devil were beating down the outer door.

It couldn't be Humphrey. Unless Miss Drummond lied, and she'd already informed her brother of Helena's whereabouts.

Trembling, Helena offered Miss Drummond a hasty curtsy, skirted around the vile woman, and hurried toward the parlor's exit, every footstep bringing renewed dread.

What would she say to Humphrey?

Forgive me for disappearing with a family heirloom, but I couldn't marry a violent brute such as you, and my brother wouldn't listen to my concerns, so I decided living as a spinster was a better option than dying as your wife.

He'd squeeze the life from her body before she managed to call for help.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs. Hawkins asked as the image of Humphrey's red face, twisted into a terrifying snarl, faded from Helena's mind.

She bustled around Helena's frozen body, grasped the door handle, and opened the door before Helena could protest. Six men fell into the foyer.

"Your Grace?" Helena said, recognizing the Duke of Lennox's black hair amongst the riotous group.

"Miss Rowe!" he slurred, stumbling toward her. "We need your assistance."

"Mine?" Her heartbeat ratcheted into overtime when he slung his arm—quite inappropriately—over her shoulder. "How can I assist six dukes?"

"Roxburghe," —the Duke of Lennox flung his arm out, pointing at the Duke of Roxburghe and nearly toppling himself and Helena over—"and Grisham are fighting over their wedding date. We decided that Miss Webb and Miss Philbert should fight instead."

Helena raised her eyebrows. "Surely you don't think you're going to convince two ladies to sort out a matter using fisticuffs."

"Nora!"

The Duke of Roxburghe stumbled past them into the parlor, his arms open wide as he aimed for Miss Webb, who, giggling, allowed him to envelope her in his embrace and vanished from view.

"Are you all on the cut?" Mrs. Hawkins asked, her mouth pressing into a thin line as the Duke of Beaufort crashed into a table, knocking it into the wall.

"Mrs. Hawkins?" Helena said, peeking out from under the Duke of Lennox's arm. "Would you prepare some coffee?"

"Isabel," the Duke of Grisham said, spying Miss Philbert in the doorway. "You must solve this issue."

He lurched toward her, followed by a procession of inebriated dukes, with Helena and the Duke of Lennox taking up the rear.

Half-carrying the Duke of Lennox, Helena shuffled into the parlor and, despite the intoxicating desire to curl into his chest, deposited him in a nearby chair. She removed his arm from her shoulders and stepped away. Her gaze flicked to Miss Drummond, whom Helena knew had watched the interaction with interest.

Miss Fernsby-Webb sidled over to Helena and leaned in, lowering her voice. "What do they want?"

"There's some type of dilemma they wish Miss Webb and Miss Philbert to solve," Helena replied, ensuring her response was loud enough for Miss Drummond to overhear.

"The wedding date." The Duke of Lennox struggled to rise from the chair, wobbled, his arms giving out, and sank down with a grunt. "They need to pick who gets married first."

"Miss Philbert should," Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, glancing over at him. "She was engaged first."

The Duke of Lennox accepted a cup of coffee from Mrs. Hawkins and offered the housekeeper a kind smile before lifting the cup of steaming liquid to his mouth. Without drinking, he lowered the coffee and gestured toward Miss Philbert.

"She didn't select her date until after Miss Webb choose… chose." He murmured the last word to himself as though unsure if he'd said the correct thing, repeated it several times, then finally added, "They picked the same day."

"I have a solution," Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, clapping her hands together. "They can play for the date. Whichever lady wins may marry first."

"Brilliant!" The Duke of Lennox waved his arm, sloshing half of the coffee onto the tablecloth.

He immediately grabbed a napkin to daub up the fluid, but his efforts were clumsy, and he ended up creating a larger mess.

Helena stilled his hand. "Mrs. Hawkins can wash the linen to remove the stain."

His gaze traveled from her fingers, which rested on his hand, up her arm, across her collarbone, and to her face. A peculiar expression flashed in his eyes. One Helena had witnessed once before—the night she fled from Humphrey.

Hunger.

"Thank you, Miss Rowe," the Duke of Lennox said, managing to stand.

Before he lumbered toward her, she darted around Miss Fernsby-Webb and gestured at two tables.

"Do all the ladies in attendance still wish to play?"

A unanimous confirmation reverberated through the room, with the exception of Miss Wilmington and her mother, who admitted the addition of six inebriated dukes was a bit overwhelming for them and took their leave.

"I count seven ladies," Helena said, pointing at each woman. "Will the most sober of our male guests be willing to join a table?"

"I will," a deep voice replied.

The dark shadow walking toward her was more intimidating than the Duke of Roxburghe, which was quite a statement, considering Helena nearly fainted upon meeting him at the Duke of Lennox's Christmas party.

When he reached Helena, he bowed, taking her hand. "I don't think we've been introduced. Harrison St. John, Duke of Mansfield."

Helena curtsied. "Miss Helena Rowe."

A snicker floated over her shoulder. She didn't need to turn to know the derision came from Miss Drummond.

Fortunately, Miss Drummond sat at the table with the Duke of Mansfield, a choice Helena believed was made because the two unavailable dukes were paired with Miss Webb and Miss Philbert, and Miss Drummond wanted a chance at a duke.

For that same reason, Helena took the available seat between Miss Webb and Miss Philbert. However, Helena didn't expect the Duke of Lennox to drag his chair over to her table and place the seat directly beside her.

He leaned over and murmured, "If Miss Webb and Miss Philbert can receive assistance, so should you."

She wouldn't survive an entire game with the Duke of Lennox whispering in her ear. Not when his first sentence sent a bolt of lightning zipping through her body.

"What about Miss Fernsby-Webb?" Helena managed, hoping he couldn't hear her heart thrumming.

The Duke of Lennox waved his hand. "Beaufort or Warwick can help her."

A chair appeared behind Miss Fernsby-Webb, and the Duke of Beaufort peered around her, his mischievous eyes twinkling. "Warwick is asleep."

"Where?" Helena leaned to the side for a clearer view of the Duke of Beaufort.

She didn't believe the Duke of Warwick would be so disrespectful as to fall asleep in the parlor of another person's house, but considering the group's current inebriated state, she needed to verify his location.

"Your housekeeper, Mrs.…" The Duke of Beaufort snapped his fingers several times as though the action would nudge his memory, then shook his head. "Mrs. Something took him upstairs to the first chamber."

"I promise," the Duke of Lennox murmured, sending a shiver ripping down Helena's spine, "to take him with us when we depart."

Helena nodded, then twisted around to pose a question, not realizing how close the Duke of Lennox was to her. She froze, her lips millimeters from his, and her breath caught.

"Is something else troubling you?" he asked, the words brushing seductively over her skin.

"What happens if neither Miss Webb nor Miss Philbert wins?" Helena winced when her voice cracked.

The Duke of Lennox leaned back, dissolving the intimacy between them, and stroked his chin. "What a delightful difficulty."

"You appear amused," the Duke of Beaufort said, winking at Helena. "Do share what Miss Rowe said to you."

"She asked what would occur if either herself or Miss Fernsby-Webb won the game." The Duke of Lennox chuckled. "I assume the wedding date issue will continue."

"Ah!" The Duke of Beaufort steepled his fingers together, nodding. "Yes, that is quite a difficulty. Did you decide upon a solution?"

"I shall help Miss Rowe win."

The Duke of Lennox's statement earned him two exasperated glares and one side-splitting guffaw that caused the Duke of Beaufort to fall out of his chair.

"Your Grace," Helena said, ensuring she maintained a respectable distance when she turned toward the Duke of Lennox again, "there's no need to assist me. I do understand the rules of the game."

He pinned her with an intense brown stare. "I don't accept your refusal."

"Pardon?"

"Every other lady has assistance, and,"—he wiggled his eyebrows—"I want nothing more than to see you best Roxburghe and Grisham."

"Then I shall follow your instructions."

However, with the steady stream of advice pouring from the Duke of Lennox's mouth, she found it difficult to concentrate on the game, especially because every time she placed a respectable distance between them, he moved closer and eliminated it, bathing her in a unique earthy scent that reminded her of a spring meadow.

"It's a trap," he said, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

Her stomach flipped, desire pooling in her abdomen. Distracted by thoughts of his mouth and how it would feel pressed against hers, she pushed a stack of coins into the center of the table, matching the current wager.

"No," the Duke of Lennox moaned under his breath as Miss Webb flipped over her cards and collected the pile of money. "I meant that you weren't to play."

"I'm s-s-sorry," Helena stammered, her heart sinking as she watched nearly ten pounds disappear into Miss Webb's heap. "I misunderstood you."

She glanced up, catching Miss Drummond staring at her, a ghostly smile twitching across Miss Drummond's face.

"Here." The Duke of Lennox rose, detached a gold watch fob from his waistcoat, removed the watch, and tossed the chain onto the table. "To repay your loss."

"It wasn't your fault," Helena said, reaching for the fob, but the Duke of Lennox's hand came down on hers, restraining her arm to the table.

"I am guiding you," he said, leaning closer. "My advice caused the loss."

"I cannot?—"

"You can." His stern tone indicated that his mind wouldn't be changed. "Give it back once you've won the next round."

"And if I don't?" Helena chewed on her lower lip as her gaze flicked between the gold fob and the Duke of Lennox.

He tucked the watch into his waistcoat pocket. "It will be my lesson to become a better tutor."

The Duke of Roxburghe shoved back his chair, detached his watch fob, and tossed the chain onto the table. "I propose we end this game in one hand."

"Agreed." The Duke of Grisham also removed his gold fob and added the piece of jewelry to the pile.

Everyone looked at the Duke of Beaufort. Before he could speak, Miss Fernsby-Webb pushed all of her coins into the center.

"As the outcome doesn't affect the Duke of Beaufort, he shouldn't have to wager a personal possession solely because the rest of you have." She indicated her stack of coins. "That amount should be sufficient for my obligation."

Miss Philbert shuffled the cards and dealt them out to all four ladies. A hush fell over the table, each lady eyeing the others as they inspected their cards.

Helena leaned back and held up her hand, allowing the Duke of Lennox to read her cards. She didn't need his instruction but wanted one last opportunity to inhale his captivating scent before resigning herself to the dull life of a spinster.

"Don't take any cards," he said, his voice sending a slew of goosebumps rippling across her skin.

She nodded, relief exploding in her chest as she laid down her cards, winning the hand. Unable to keep the grin from her lips, she giggled as she dragged the coins and gold watch fobs toward her, brushing the spoils in her reticule.

There was enough in the pile to pay for Selina's silence… if she accepted the gold fobs as part of the payment.

Helena picked out the Duke of Lennox's fob and held out the gold chain. "Thank you for all your assistance this evening, Your Grace."

His fingers brushed hers, sending another jolt of lightning zipping up her arm.

Leaning down, he murmured against her ear, "We're not finished yet, Miss Rowe."