Chapter 15
GIDEON
Gideon walked off the dance floor feeling not entirely like himself. Lately, whenever he found himself too close to Helena for too long, that strange feeling resurfaced.
Being with her felt so natural. As they had danced, he could think of nothing but how wonderful it would be to dance with her like that always.
But he had to remind himself that he had made a promise. He would find her a good husband. He would ensure she was save. He could not allow himself to wallow in these muddy waters.
He made his way to the refreshment room, where he found James. James looked at him. “You are looking rather Friday-faced for a man who just danced with a lovely woman. What is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter,” he said. “Nobody will think anything of it. Everyone knows I am not in the market for another wife. Besides, if you are so worried, you dance with her. Is that not what gentlemen such as yourself are here for? To give her a chance to show what a gifted dancer she is.”
James rolled his eyes. “I suppose, if you insist. What is next, the Quadrille? I do not dance that. Perhaps the Cotillion. That is the next one — I will ask her. But you owe me.”
“She is a very good dancer. I will owe you nothing. In fact, you will owe me for having introduced you to such a brilliant partner.”
James shook his head. “Did you notice the lady patronesses? They were standing in the corner staring at the two of you the entire time you danced.”
He had in fact noticed. He had also noticed the way Lady Marlborough had smirked at him, a most peculiar expression he had not been able to eject from his mind.
“She knew my father,” he said. “Lady Marlborough. He once told me she had decided I ought to marry her niece — the one who married the Prince Regent’s cousin last year. A much superior match, of course.”
“I see. Is that what interests her in what you do?”
“I suppose,” he said with a shrug. “Now go back out there and find Helena and tell her you wish to dance the Cotillion with her. And keep an eye out for any gentleman who appears interested. Do not make any introductions. I shall do that myself.”
James raised both hands. “Very well. You would think you were the next King of England, the way you order people about.”
“Go.”
James made his way back into the ballroom and Gideon refilled his glass. The lemonade was as weak as always. He was about to follow when Lady Marlborough entered the refreshment room. She looked up at him, deep wrinkles appearing on her forehead.
“Your Grace.”
“I beg your pardon for the scene earlier,” he said at once. “It will not happen again. You have my word.”
“That is not what I came to discuss. But I do appreciate it. We cannot have such scenes at Almack’s. We must maintain a certain level of decorum. We cannot have lords brawling on the dance floor.”
“I do take exception to you calling me a lord. I am a Duke.”
She rolled her eyes, which was most undignified for a woman of her standing. “You are a viscount who got lucky. And Lord Henry…. I do have a mind to revoke his voucher. But that is not why I am here.”
“Is it not?” he said. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure? Have you simply come in for a piece of, I must say, rather dry cake?”
“I do not bake the cake,” she said. “And has it ever occurred to you that perhaps the lemonade is weak and the cake is dry for a reason? We do not want people standing in the refreshment room filling their bellies at our expense. We want them outside dancing and conversing and making connections.”
“Right. They say many a good connection has been made over a piece of fruit cake and brandy.”
The lady blinked at him, and he knew he was taking it too far.
He was well aware that he had the regrettable habit of not knowing quite when to stop with his provocations.
It had driven his father to point nonplus on more than one occasion, and even the usually patient Captain Hartwell had found it a difficult character trait to accept.
Cassandra had found it charming, of course.
But then again, she had found it charming when he belched after drinking down a glass of ale too fast — though in reality she had probably been disgusted by it.
It occurred to him that he ought to try that with Helena sometime, simply to see her reaction. He smiled to himself.
“I do not know what is so amusing,” Lady Marlborough said. “But I have come in here to give you some counsel. The young lady you are attempting to help—”
“Lady Helena Vale. Yes.”
“I would not expend too much energy on the venture. Some people may appear perfectly pleasant on the outside, but the baggage they carry can be very heavy indeed.”
He took a step closer and bent down slightly. “I think I know what baggage you are referring to.”
She raised her head, and the wrinkles in her neck smoothed somewhat. She looked up at him. “Do you?”
“I believe so. I take it you are not speaking of her child or her status as a widow.”
“Indeed I am not. And I am surprised you are aware of the — circumstances.”
“I am very aware of the circumstances. It is partly why I am involved. Do not fret. I know perfectly well what I am doing.”
“Well, I hope so,” she said. “For both your sakes. If you truly believe you can find her an eligible husband, I would urge you to do it quickly. And when you find one — do not bother with the banns. Get a special license and settle the matter without delay.”
This gave him pause. Marrying by special license was generally frowned upon — it was what couples did when they found themselves in circumstances that required haste. Generally the banns were read for three weeks and a date was set shortly thereafter.
“I do not think I fully understand your meaning,” he said.
“I think that you do,” she repeated. “You can read between the lines, can you not, Your Grace?” With that she departed, and Gideon stood there, his stomach feeling as though an avalanche of rocks had settled in its pit.
* * *
Helena switched partners once more and found herself dancing with Gideon’s friend James.
He was a serious fellow, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that suggested he could be quite entertaining when he chose to be.
Thus far he had proved a pleasant conversationalist, though he appeared primarily occupied with talking about his wife.
By the end of the first figure Helena felt as though she knew everything about her.
“I am pleased that Frances has made such firm friends with her cousins,” James said. “But sometimes I miss her. When we are in town she is with them more often than not, always coming up with some scheme to improve the lives of those less fortunate than ourselves.”
“Is that not a virtue?” Helena said. “My husband always said the Langley sisters were the thorn in the sides of the highborn, because they sought to make things more equal for those who had not had the good fortune to be born with a silver spoon in their mouths. I always thought that spoke very well of them.”
James raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? Not many among the aristocracy feel that way about my wife and her friends — or about myself and their husbands. But it does not bother me.”
“I am glad it does not. Someone must stand up for those not fortunate enough to have a title in front of their name.”
“Indeed,” he said.
Just then another couple danced slightly too close and the woman bumped into Helena. She was all-a-mort for just a moment — struck quite still — before she turned to the woman. “I beg your pardon,” she said.
“You do not belong,” the woman said, and danced away. She was tall and pale-skinned, with black hair piled on top of her head and a ruby necklace that sparkled at her throat.
“What did she say?” James asked.
“I do not know,” Helena said, swallowing hard. But of course she had heard her perfectly well. You do not belong here.
“Do you think they overheard our conversation?”
“I should think so. They were right beside us. Everyone can hear everyone at Almack’s if they care enough to listen — and everyone cares enough to listen, I always say. It makes getting the on dit considerably easier than actually finding a partner.”
“Yes,” she said, and swallowed again. Her eyes found the woman — she was not far distant — and suddenly it seemed as though everyone was staring at her.
But were they? Perhaps it was only in her mind.
Surely she was imagining it. And yet the unease settled in her stomach and would not shift.
They finished their dance and she curtsied quickly to her partner, then found Clara.
Clara grabbed her by the arm. “Something is amiss,” she said. “People are staring.”
“I noticed. I thought I was imagining it.”
“You were not. And I do not know why. It seemed to happen almost out of nowhere.”
“That lady with the black hair — she danced past me and said that I did not belong. At first I was not certain I had heard her correctly. Now I am.” She took a slow breath. “Do you think — do you think that they know? That it has come out?”
“I do not think so,” Clara replied, though her tone gave away that she was not at all certain. “How could they? Everyone who knew is gone. Your father. Your mother. Mary would never have said a word, and you know I would not.”
“Right,” she said. “Right.” Then she lowered her voice. “Huxley suspected.”
“He did?” Clara’s eyes went wide. “You never said.”
“He never accused me outright. But he would often say that I was beneath him. That I did not belong in certain places. That the reason he could not take me to certain functions was because I did not belong there. At first I thought he was simply looking to put me down, as he always did. But the more time passed, the more I began to think it very likely that he knew. And if he knew — perhaps he told someone.”
“What a pair,” a voice said from somewhere behind her. “Someone has landed a Duke, and she is not quite a lady—”
A tongue clicked. She turned to see two heads disappearing behind two feathered fans. The ladies holding them shuffled away without a backward glance.
“They know,” she said. She grabbed Clara’s hand. “I must leave.”
Clara looped her arm through hers and together they made their way through the ballroom. Helena’s eyes darted back and forth. Were the whispers real or was she imagining them? Surely not the entire ballroom was looking at her — that was absurd. And yet it felt that way. And where was Gideon?
She spotted James a little way off, talking to two other gentlemen. Then a fourth head appeared — Gideon.
Clara waved at him urgently. “We must leave — Helena is unwell.” Gideon nodded and moved to join them, but Helena had already picked up her pace, and they were out of the ballroom before he had a chance to catch up.
Once outside, Helena freed herself from Clara’s grip and pressed herself against the wall of the building, breathing hard. Clara took her by the shoulders.
“Do not work yourself into a pother. We do not know anything for certain. It is very likely they spoke as they did because of him — because they think he does not belong with someone in your circumstances.”
“But he has a title. I never truly did. I was only ever tolerated in such places because of my father’s connection to the Earl… And if they were to know…”
Clara tightened her grip. “They know nothing. Nobody knows anything. You are safe. Believe me.”
Helena looked into her friend’s large blue eyes and wanted with every fiber of her being to believe her. And yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not — because somewhere in the pit of her stomach she already knew that somehow, the secret she had guarded most closely had been exposed.