Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
“There is a second floor.” Benedict pointed to it.
Silas and Benedict circled the building, trying to see if it might be more than it seemed.
“Probably his living quarters,” Silas whispered as he studied the area behind the building.
It seemed to just be an alley, dank and dirty, with trash strewn along the wall. The path was very muddy even though it had not rained that day, and it stank of urine.
“I doubt he does any business behind here,” Silas said and spat in disgust.
“Come, let’s go the other way,” Benedict whispered.
They walked around to the front and Silas glanced across the street at the carriage. He could not see Helena, even though the curtain was slightly parted.
A frown furrowed his brow. “Stay here,” he said to Benedict, and quickly crossed the street.
He peered inside the carriage and was horrified to find it empty. He began to search the street for a woman in a wine-colored gown but there was nobody that fit Helena’s description.
He ran back to Benedict. “Helena’s not in the carriage. You don’t think they found her, do you?”
Benedict held up a hand. “Calm down. If someone had dragged her out of the carriage, don’t you think we would have heard? She would not have gone with them without creating a fracas.”
Silas felt his heartbeat slow down. “You’re right.”
“Perhaps she took a walk to pass the time.” Benedict said.
Silas nodded absently, his eyes still raking the street for any sign of her. “Maybe.”
Benedict looked at the door to the apothecary. “Should we go inside?”
“What good would that do? Unless we plan to interrogate the individual?”
“Not yet. Since they do not know that we know about them, we do not want to alert them.”
“All right then, I don’t thi—” his voice trailed off as the door to the apothecary opened and Helena came out.
“All right, thank you. I’ll see you another time,” she called, waving in a friendly manner to someone inside the shop.
Silas made as if to go after her as she crossed the road to the carriage, carrying a package beneath her arm but Benedict stopped him.
“They could be watching,” he whispered.
They waited a few minutes before crossing the road. Silas jumped into the cabin while Benedict took the coachman’s seat and drove them off.
“Whatever did you think you were doing, going in there?” Silas hissed angrily even as Helena smiled at him.
“I saw a woman I knew go inside, so I followed her.” Helena said calmly.
“What do you mean you saw a woman go inside and followed her? Did she recognize you?”
“No, she didn’t. It was years ago, and she barely paid me any mind at the time. I doubt she would have associated the girl I was with me.” She pointed down at her gown, the expensive lace gloves on her arms, her elaborate hairdo and taller figure.
“That was an unnecessarily dangerous thing to do and you shouldn’t have—”
“I heard something,” Helena interrupted, cutting off his rant.
Silas frowned. “What?”
“I heard something. When I entered the shop, they were somewhere in the back rooms, but the woman had a very loud voice, and I could hear what they were saying.”
“Did they see you?” Silas asked urgently, grabbing her arm.
“No. Hush and let me tell you.”
“Humph,” Silas replied, but he subsided and let Helena tell her story.
“…and then since I couldn’t leave without the bell alerting them to my presence I opened and closed the door again.
The clerk, Moses, came out and I asked for some edible flowers.
I said it was for my sick child, and I needed something to distract him.
He ended up recommending so many products for catarrh.
They’re even useful, in case you need them. ”
Silas released a long put-upon sigh, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did that.”
She laughed, “Why not? I got some information we didn’t have before. We now even know why my uncle hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”
Silas shook his head, but his tone softened slightly. “You’ve got a strange way of going about things.”
She peered at him, puzzled. “I thought you would be pleased.”
He stared incredulously at her. “You thought I’d be pleased that you put yourself in danger?” he asked with disbelief.
“Well… no. But I wasn’t really in any danger.”
“Unless they suspected you of overhearing something.”
“Well… they didn’t. I’m fine. And now we know about this diadem.”
“Not just that. We know your father had it.”
“Yes.”
“And that you are the only one who can get it.”
“What?”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Hadn’t thought about that yet, had you?”
She shook her head slowly.
“You must tread very carefully from now on,” he said emphatically, looking intently into her eyes.
She looked back at him. “I don’t think that being careful is the important thing here.
” She held up her hand to stall him as he opened his mouth in protest. “We must find out where this diadem is so that we can get it before they can. Whatever their plan is, it hinges on this jewel. If we get it before them, we will foil their plans. That’s how we get revenge for my father. ”
“Did your father ever speak to you of a jewel or any inheritance?”
Helena bit her bottom lip, frowning as she tried to think of that time before her father died. But most of it was a blur, buried between years of cold, pain and rejection.
Slowly, she shook her head. “I can’t remember.”
“Do you know where your father would have kept something of value to him?”
Again, she shook her head. “We were not a family that spoke of such things.” She shook her head ruefully. “We didn’t speak about much of anything that concerned us directly. My father loved to teach me things about the world, but I’m realizing more and more that I didn’t know much about him.”
Silas sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to look everywhere.”
Helena gave him a look. “It did sound as if they knew where it was. This diadem. Perhaps that’s why my father was killed. For the information.”
“If that was so, they would not need you now because they had you right there, then.”
She nodded. “True.”
He straightened up. “In any case, we have to get you out of London as fast as possible. Just in case they saw you or someone recognizes you. I prefer you to be somewhere where these people are not. We’re leaving first thing in the morning. We can sort this out at home.”
“Must we?” Benedict interjected casually from the front seat. “It’s her last day in London. She should see at least a little of it. Let me take you both to my favorite tea shop—one of the quieter ones. No gossiping matrons or blabbering baronesses, I promise.”
Silas gave him a sharp look. “That’s not a good idea.”
“We’ll be with her,” Benedict said smoothly, glancing back at Helena with a smile. “What could possibly happen with the both of us there?”
Helena leaned forward slightly. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “Just one hour?”
Silas’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“It’s broad daylight,” Benedict added, a faint teasing lilt to his voice. “Surely even villains take tea at home.”
Silas sighed through his nose, eyes flicking at Helena, who now looked at him with such hopeful brightness it nearly disarmed him.
“…Fine,” he muttered at last. “But only for a short while. And no wandering.”
Helena beamed. “Of course not.”
She didn’t say anything else, but Silas could feel her delight radiating beside him. He hated how much he liked that.
“Whatever you say, husband,” she replied softly.
The tea shop smelled of orange zest and sugar, with the warm hum of genteel conversation rising over the clink of fine porcelain.
Helena stirred her tea carefully, aware of her every movement. She was not used to places like this, where the women wore silk gloves in pale pastels and spoke in quiet, practiced tones as though the mere thought of raising one’s voice was vulgar.
Silas, sprawled far too comfortably in a chair meant to tame posture, looked terribly out of place.
His coat was dark, his presence darker still.
Yet Helena was more aware of him than the polished mahogany tables or the ivory-patterned wallpaper.
She could feel the heat of his gaze even when he wasn’t looking at her.
Benedict leaned forward. “Try the lemon tarts, Helena. They’re the only thing worth suffering society for.”
“I’m partial to the cinnamon rolls,” Silas muttered.
“You’re partial to anything with sugar,” Benedict smirked.
Before Helena could reply, the bell over the entrance tinkled, and a woman swept in as though she had invented grace.
“The Countess of Fairfax,” Benedict said under his breath.
The lady spotted them at once, her eyes lighting up with familiarity and calculation. She approached in a rustle of dove-grey silk and embroidered gloves, her hair styled with the sort of precision that demanded a maid and a mirror angled just so.
“My dear Lord Richmont!” she trilled. “I had no idea you were back in town.”
He rose to greet her, bowing over her hand. “Only briefly. Lady Imogen Fairfax, may I introduce my companions. The Duke of Highcliff, and his wife, the Duchess of Highcliff.”
Helena inclined her head politely. Imogen’s eyes lingered, assessing, then dismissive.
“The Duke, of course,” Lady Fairfax said, offering Silas a smile of restrained admiration. “It’s been an age, Your Grace.”
“Longer than that, I hope,” Silas replied, his tone edged with amusement.
“And Your Grace… I don’t believe we’ve met. Your gown is quite… bold. Parisian?”
“Not quite,” Helena said calmly. “I had it altered to suit my taste.”
“Indeed.” Lady Fairfax’s smile was tight. “It does rather reflect your personality.”
Helena’s grip on her teacup didn’t falter, but her spine straightened by a hair. Silas set down his fork with a soft clink.
“My wife has never been the sort to conform,” he said, voice deceptively light. “It’s one of her more admirable qualities. Refreshing, wouldn’t you say?”
Lady Fairfax blinked. “Of course. It must be quite a change from the usual crowd.”
“Quite,” Silas agreed, staring at her without blinking. “One gets tired of what’s usual.”
Lady Fairfax looked briefly uncertain, then laughed as if he’d said something clever rather than cutting.
“Well, I’ll let you return to your… refreshment. Do let me know if you plan to attend Lady Shelbourne’s soiree next week, Lord Richmont.”
With a final glance at Helena that bordered on pity, she departed.
Silas leaned back with a scoff. “Always a delight.”
Helena exhaled slowly, her expression unreadable. “That was entertaining.”
“You handled her better than I would’ve expected,” Benedict said, raising his cup in salute.
“I’ve been through worse. And insulted in more artful ways—by better people than her,” Helena murmured, and both men chuckled.
Later that afternoon, Helena and Silas left Benedict at a tailor’s.
Now, they were strolling down a quieter street near Covent Garden when Helena paused before a narrow shop front with frosted glass and faded gold lettering: Whitaker’s Fine Books and Curiosities.
Silas followed her gaze. “You want to go in?”
“May we?”
He gave her a long look, then opened the door for her without a word.
The shop smelled of leather and dust and old ink. It felt like the kind of place where time slowed, and the past spoke softly from the shelves.
Helena drifted down an aisle, fingers brushing bindings with the sort of reverence she reserved for very little else.
Silas trailed her, hands in his coat pockets. “Find anything you like?”
“Everything.” She smiled faintly. “But I can’t justify buying it all.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She pulled a worn volume down and opened it carefully. “There’s something comforting about old books. They’re like silent companions.”
“Judgmental ones, depending on the author.”
She laughed quietly. “I don’t mind a bit of judgment. It keeps me sharp.”
Silas leaned against the end of the shelf. “You were sharp enough for Lady Fairfax.”
Helena’s gaze lifted. “Did I embarrass you?”
His brow lifted. “Is that a serious question?”
“I suppose I thought you might prefer women like her.”
He was silent for a moment, then crossed to her and took the book from her hands, setting it gently on the shelf.
“I don’t prefer women who shrink themselves to be pleasing.”
She blinked, startled by his proximity.
“I prefer the ones who walk into a room like they belong there, even if no one invited them,” he added, voice lower.
Helena held his gaze. “And if they don’t ask permission?”
A hint of a smile curled at his lips. “Even better.”
Their eyes stayed locked for a moment too long, until a creak from the floorboards reminded them of the shopkeeper.
Helena stepped back, cheeks slightly flushed. “We should go. Benedict will wonder where we’ve gone.”
Silas retrieved the book she’d picked up and carried it to the counter.
She frowned. “You don’t need to—”
“I know,” he said simply.
He paid for the volume, then handed it to her as they stepped outside.
“For the journey tomorrow,” he said.
Helena looked down at the book, then looked up at him. “Thank you.”
He didn’t answer, but the way he looked at her said more than enough.