Chapter Two
In the townhouse of the Earl of Garenshire, Helena Crawford sat in the drawing room with her father and her younger sister, Emily.
Her father was reading something silently, a cream-colored paper with gold around the edges.
Helena recognized it as an invitation to some sort of social event, and her breath caught.
Surely, her father could not be entertaining the notion of attending any event.
Not after everything that had happened to their family.
“Daughters, it would seem that Lady Juliette has invited us to attend a ball she is hosting in a few days,” he said, glancing at both his daughters.
His voice, once commanding and strong, now sounded broken by grief and scandal.
Even the smile he offered to Helena and Emily appeared sickly and defeated, evidence which was corroborated by the lines around his eyes and the sagging of his jowls.
“I believe that it is time that we attend and rejoin society. Two years of isolation is enough. The two of you deserve a chance to find good husbands and secure your futures, despite all that has happened to us.”
Helena’s hands shook as she recalled the events of the last society ball she attended.
It was still difficult for her to believe that just two years prior, she had what she had considered to be the perfect life.
She was betrothed to the most handsome man in the entirety of the ton, Lord Simon Warwick, and she could hardly wait to be married to him and become the marchioness of Wardom.
Her wedding preparations had just begun, and she awoke each day with pure joy at the trips to town, dress fittings and accessory shopping that lay ahead of her.
During that time, she had the dearest of friends.
Diana was the daughter to a well-respected marquess, and they got along with great fervor.
Diana had made arrangements to spend many nights with her throughout the process of planning her wedding, and she joined Helena and Emily on the trips they had made during the brief period she was betrothed.
She had loved Diana as though she was another sister, and she had believed herself to be the luckiest woman in London.
She had believed, foolishly, she knew now, that nothing horrible could never happen, with how happy she was.
Despite her mother’s death five years prior, she believed that she had found her way and her place in the world again, and that the wonderful people in her life would always be there.
But as with the day her mother died, consumption claiming her life after just a short time, fate proved to have other plans for her than joy.
The ball which had ruined her reputation had started as a lovely affair, with decorations of her two favorite colors: lavender and dove gray.
Vases and wreathes permeated the fragrance of jasmine, which was her favorite flower.
Even though the ball had been hosted by Lady Beaumont, it was easy for her to imagine that the ball was being hosted in her honor.
It seemed like a night that would be the very definition of perfection.
She had mingled with friends and acquaintances who all congratulated her on her betrothal, the banns of which would be read that Sunday during the service at St. Peter’s church.
She sipped some wine and delighted in the music, even when Simon asked Diana to dance with him twice.
She supposed she should have been suspicious at the delight in Diana’s eyes as Simon escorted her to the floor.
But she had not thought it of any significance until after her dance with the rake; a man whose name she never knew but whose face she would never forget.
He was a very handsome gentleman, very opposite to Simon’s fair skin and blond hair, with black hair that was pulled back at the nape of his neck and eyes so dark they were almost as black as his hair.
There was a dimple on the left corner of his mouth when he smiled, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.
Too late would Helena realize just why that was.
But Diana had introduced him to her as a dear friend, so when he had asked her to dance, she had accepted without question.
The disaster began when the gentleman stepped on the hem of Helena’s dress, ripping it so that it needed repair.
He had been apologetic, offering to assist her, but for propriety’s sake, Helena politely declined.
She hurried off to the adjacent sitting room so that she could repair the hem and return to the ball.
However, as she repaired her dress, the man entered the room, closing the door behind him.
He approached her with a strange look in his eyes, one which haunted Helena every day.
She once more declined his help, but he was upon her before she knew what was happening.
He pressed himself against her, gripping her wrists in his hands.
He was not hurting her, but what happened next left wounds that never ceased weeping.
The door flew open and in walked Diana, along with other guests of the party.
Helena had been caught in the compromising situation with the gentleman, and Diana had led the guests there.
Only later did Helena learn that Diana had hired the gentleman and orchestrated the event so that Helena would be ruined.
Simon immediately rejected her in front of all the guests present at the ball that evening, thinking her guilty of impropriety, just as the rest of the ton did.
He instead chose to marry Diana, which he did just one week after the ball.
Helena had tried to plead her innocence and explain herself.
But none would hear her, as no one ever heard a woman who had been ruined in such a manner.
To make matters worse, the rake vanished, leaving her ruined and without a husband to salvage her reputation.
Thus, she had spent two years isolated away from the ton, having no friends left and no acquaintances who wanted to be associated with such a horrible scandal.
“There will be no chance for me to find a husband, Father,” she said softly, immediately regretting her words when the Earl’s shoulder fell, and his weak smile crumbled.
Emily rose from her seat and knelt beside Helena, taking her hands in her own.
“But sister, it is time that we reclaim our place in society,” she said.
“Never mind finding husbands. That will come whenever it comes. I, for one, do not want any husband who would dare judge my sister guilty without understanding why he is doing so. But Father is right. We deserve to rejoin society and be the noblewomen we rightfully are.”
Helena looked into her sister’s earnest face.
It was hard to believe that Emily was only two years younger than her.
At nineteen, Emily could pass as Helena’s niece.
Their faces were eerily similar. However, like their father’s, Helena’s face was prematurely lined with the years of strain and worry that had come in the two years since her ruin.
But as her sister began to dance across the polished wooden floor, her protective instincts engulfed her.
She could not be selfish and ruin her sister’s life as well as her own.
She needed to do what was best for Emily, no matter how uncomfortable it was for her.
She thought about something which their aunt, the widowed Beatrice Montrose, told her immediately after the scandal broke.
“People judge others to mask their own unhappiness,” she had said. “You must not allow their opinions of you become your own.”
Beatrice had stood by her family through the entirety of the scandal, defending them at every instance.
She had believed Helena’s account of the event from the very first moment, and she had not allowed anyone to cause any direct discomfort with their harsh words or unwarranted admonishments.
Helena still did not know quite how to prevent the opinions of others from taking over her own opinions of herself.
But there was wisdom in those words. Just as there was wisdom in those of her father and sister.
“Very well,” she replied, observing her sister's delight while striving to conceal her own trepidation. “I will agree to attend the ball, Father.”
The Earl nodded, a weak smile returning.
He watched Emily dance with a combination of pride and regret.
Helena could guess why he felt those things.
He was proud of his youngest daughter’s resilience and strength in the face of the adversity their family had faced.
But he regretted how Helena’s scandal had affected both their futures.
Even though she knew her father did not blame her, she knew he still wished things were different. As did she.
When the night of the ball arrived that Saturday, Helena stood before her looking glass as her lady’s maid, Martha, helped her into a pale blue, fine silk gown.
The modiste had outdone herself with the dress, meeting all Helena’s requests perfectly.
Helena had asked for little, apart from it being a color and a style which was modest and would attract little attention.
But it was still beautiful, more so than Helena felt she deserved.
Martha’s hands were gentle as they worked to style her honey-colored hair into a Grecian Knot, while Emily fetched a pale blue ribbon to accessorize it.
Emily looked radiant in her pink silk gown, with her cheeks flushed pink to match and a pink gemstone tiara.
Helena smiled softly despite her own reservations and dread about the ball.
Her sister deserved to look and feel as beautiful and wonderful as she did.
Helena could find a way to pass the evening without making the night bad for her sister.
Even if it meant she stayed out of sight for the duration of the ball.