Chapter 14
HELENA
“Icannot believe he wishes me to be somebody I am not,” Helena said. “It is just what Huxley always wanted. For me to pretend.”
“That is hardly the same thing,” Clara said gently.
“Gideon is not like that. He does not want you to change your personality. And he is not wrong — all of us present a slightly more polished version of ourselves until we have caught the attention of a gentleman we like, and the gentlemen do the same. Benjamin had me believing he was the most accomplished polo player who ever lived, going by his tales, until I actually saw him play and discovered he was quite dreadful. But by then, of course, I had already lost my heart to him.”
“I understand that he wants the best for me,” Helena said. “But I do not know that this is the best for me. How can I be certain?”
“You cannot. But given what you have been through, you know now what you will and will not tolerate. And let me assure you — Gideon is not Huxley. He is a good man. And given what he experienced with his wife, I do not think he would ever truly wish you to change who you are. He knows what that feels like from the other side.”
“Did she?” Helena asked, taking a sip of the wine in her hand. She had been curious to learn more about this woman who had managed to draw Gideon, a man whose reputation had always preceded him as someone who considered marriage an impossibility, into a courtship and a marriage.
“Yes. I still remember when he first announced he was courting someone. The whole of the ton was taken aback, because he was not the sort of man any of us had expected to settle down. And then he did. And for a time he truly seemed happy. I did not know him well enough back then, but from the outside looking in, he seemed contented.”
“But Cassandra — she was not what he thought.”
“No. She charmed him by pretending to like everything he liked. He had come to believe they shared all the same tastes, all the same interests, all the same opinions. He told me he thought he had found a female version of himself and found it quite delightful.”
“Only to discover it was all a performance. She wanted the title. The glamour.” Helena paused. “But this was before he became Duke, was it not?”
Clara nodded, finishing her drink. “Yes. But she was untitled herself, so any title was a gain. I felt dreadful for him when he told me. Because he truly had loved her. Or at least, he had loved the woman he believed her to be.”
“I think helping him find me a good husband is helping him too,” Helena said quietly. “Perhaps it will restore his faith in love.”
“Perhaps,” Clara said. “I must say — I do not know this Lady Cassandra, but I find I am most put out with her on his behalf. He can attempt to be guarded, but he is charming and genuinely good-hearted. You were right to object to his suggestion that you change yourself, but I believe he meant well. And if you tell me it is all gammon and he is simply meddling, I will remind you that his meddling has put food on your table.”
“I know he meant well,” Helena said.
Something in Clara’s voice gave her pause. “Do you care for him?”
“No. Not at all. Besides, even if I did, he has made it perfectly clear he has no intention of remarrying. And at this point he and I know one another far too well for such a thing. We are thoroughly entangled.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Clara asked.
“Stop it,” she said. “Here he comes now — stop this nonsense at once.”
Clara raised her hands in surrender and curtsied as Gideon approached with James Ashford, the Duke of Devonshire, at his side. Helena curtsied too, and Gideon bowed.
“You trust remember my friend James, I believe — the Duke of Devonshire,” he said.
“But of course,” Clara said. “How do you do?”
“Very well indeed. I see the two of you are without drinks. Might we remedy that?”
“I would be most grateful,” Clara replied — and before Helena had quite noticed what was happening, Clara had swept off toward the refreshment room with James at her side, leaving Helena alone with Gideon once more.
* * *
“I trust you did not have any trouble getting in,” he said.
“Not at all. Although the lady patroness at the door, the one with whom you had made the arrangement, did look at me as though I did not quite belong.”
“Lady Marlborough. Do not fret. She is a battle-axe. Always looking for some argument or another. But, you are here, and you look lovely.”
“Well, thank you. Now, what is the plan? Do you have any gentlemen here for me to meet?”
“No,” he said. “The purpose of this outing was simply to make you comfortable with dancing again. Although if you do meet a gentleman who appeals to you, let me know and I shall make the arrangements.”
She smiled, though nobody had caught her eye thus far. However—
“I have not met any gentleman who might interest me,” she said. “However, I believe there is a gentleman who is rather interested in you.” She tilted her chin toward the corner of the room, and felt Gideon stiffen beside her.
“Oh goodness,” he said, under his breath. “Balderdash…Utter bird-witted…”
“From your string of profanity, I take it that you are acquainted with this gentleman?” she asked.
“I am. We had rather an unfortunate discussion some days ago that ended with my nearly planting a facer on him. I should have, in hindsight. He would have well deserved it. And I suspect he has come here tonight expressly to queer my pitch.”
“Well, well,” the young man said, approaching with a slight grin. “If it isn’t the most fortunate Duke in the realm. And his lady love.” He bowed before Helena.
Her bristles went up at once. She could not stand men of this sort. He reminded her of Huxley. Not the charming Huxley she had initially met, but the one she had ended up married to. Someone in love with himself, who thought himself better than everybody else.
“I do warn you,” Gideon said, “this is a fine establishment, and I would not like you to sully Almack’s doors. Although I fear you have already done so simply by walking through them.”
“Blackwell,” the young man said. “Do not think I have forgotten what you did at the club.”
“Oh, I was hoping you would not forget. It was meant as a lesson. Was that not clear?” Gideon asked, and took a step toward him.
There was something intimidating about him, and she could see the anger bubbling beneath the surface. Tension crept into Helena’s shoulders and she took a step back. She did not like this. Not one bit.
“Perhaps I can teach you a lesson this time, Your Grace,” the younger man said with venom, drawing out the title with unmistakable contempt.
Gideon’s hand rose and he reached for the man’s collar when James appeared at his side and pressed his arm down firmly. “Gideon,” he said quietly, “may I remind you that we received our vouchers on my account. Frances will never forgive me if we lose them on yours.”
Gideon dropped his hand. “My friend is quite right. It is not worth it. Although I will say,” he added, with a pleasant smile at Lord Henry, “that his grievances against me are a very great deal of hum and nothing more. He may crow over this evening if he wishes. I shan’t give him the satisfaction of caring.
” He looked up, and his expression transformed entirely.
“Ah! Lady Marlborough! How lovely to see you.”
“Your Grace,” Lady Marlborough said, advancing upon them with a measured authority that made it quite clear this was not the first time she’d broken up such a confrontation. “Is there a problem?”
“I have no problem,” Gideon said pleasantly. “Lady Helena has no problem. It appears, however, that Lord Henry does have a problem. What it is exactly, I cannot tell you.”
“Indeed, it is he who started the trouble,” a voice came from somewhere nearby, and then another and a number of fingers pointed in Lord Henry’s direction.
“I see,” Lady Marlborough said. She turned to Lord Henry with resolve. “My lord, I shall ask you to depart the premises.”
“I? I did nothing wrong. He is the one who…”
The lady patroness crossed her arms and tapped her right foot on the floor, sending a quiet but unmistakable tap, tap, tap into the air.
“Very well,” Lord Henry said. He glared at Gideon. “Do not think that I will forget this.”
“I did offer to repeat the lesson,” Gideon said.
Lady Marlborough, all four foot eight of her, slipped between the two men with practiced efficiency, and Gideon immediately stepped back. She looked at him for a long moment. “I do not wish to have to return here,” she said. Then she looked briefly at Helena and swept away.
“Well,” Gideon said, turning to Helena. “That is … are you all right?”
“Yes,” Helena said. She had wrapped her arms around herself without quite noticing. “Nothing is the matter. I simply do not enjoy witnessing that manner of aggression.”
“Aggression?” He looked genuinely taken aback. “I beg your pardon that was not my intention. That young gentleman and I have an unfortunate history, and he said some things that were…”
She looked up. “About me?”
She was not sure why she immediately assumed the conversation had been about her, but he pressed his lips together, and she was all-a-mort for a moment. That was confirmation enough.
“I see.”
He shrugged. “It was a silly business. It has been dealt with. Now — shall we dance?”
She wanted to say no. She wanted to find Clara immediately so that the two of them could leave together.
Her eyes swept the room in search of her, but Clara was nowhere to be seen.
Besides — this was foolish. Gideon had not truly been aggressive.
He had been angry, yes, but with cause. The other gentleman had been exceedingly rude.
And Gideon was not Huxley. She knew this. Every part of her knew it. But somewhere within her — perhaps at the very core of her — she could not quite shake the fear that even in someone as decent as Gideon, darkness might be buried, as it had been buried in Huxley.
Still, he offered his hand, and she could not very well refuse it. He was one of her only friends, after all. She took it, and together the two of them stepped onto the dance floor. He placed his hand at her waist as the waltz began.
“Even Almack’s plays the waltz now?” she asked.
He grinned and nodded. “Indeed, Almack’s does.”
The string quartet started and they fell into step. The unease that had settled in her slowly began to dissipate as he turned her through the figures. People looked at them — some smiling, some with what she imagined was judgement.
“When were you last here?” she asked.
“When I was married,” he said. “My wife at the time wished to come, so I brought her.” He paused. “It was a mistake.”
“Why?”
“There was a certain gentleman that she met here that evening. A certain gentleman that she then left with.” He shrugged. “Let us not discuss it.”
She opened her lips, then closed them again. If he did not wish to discuss it, she would not press.
“I have been trying to teach Lavinia to say Gideon,” she said, “so that we do not run into any further trouble such as we did in the park.”
“And how is that going?”
“Thus far she can manage Giddy, or she can manage On. Connecting the two has proved rather a struggle.”
He laughed. “When I come next time, I shall try and teach her myself.”
She looked forward to that — but did not say so. It felt odd, telling him that she would look forward to seeing him. This was not a courtship. It was not even truly a friendship. It was an arrangement.
And yet it did not feel like one. It felt like something that wanted to be more, even though it was not.
It felt good to be in his arms. Safe. That was peculiar — she had promised herself she would never feel this way with another man. She had felt something like it once before, with Huxley, during their first two or three dances. But she was wrong to compare the two. They were nothing alike.
Gideon would remain in her life only as long as he was needed, and then he would be gone.
He would continue charming ladies in the park.
He would add to his legend all across town.
He would laugh and dance and make his mark upon society — hopefully not only for his wandering ways, but for far more besides.
And she? She would be married to somebody else. Somebody good. Somebody kind.
And Gideon? He would remain as a mark upon her memory. But nothing more than a memory nonetheless.