Chapter 14
Helena was buried in the covers of her bed.
Ellie had flounced into her room far too early that morning and flumped on the foot of the mattress.
Her cotton nightgown, covered in ruffles that would look ridiculous on anyone else, highlighted Ellie’s generous curves.
She could have been a princess of old, trapped in some stone castle, with her tumble of blonde curls, waiting for her prince to come and rescue her.
There were many endearing things about Ellie, but her complete lack of awareness about how beautiful she was always made Helena smile.
Except for now. It was too bloody early, and Ellie was too perceptive for her own good.
‘You invited her for dinner? Tonight?’
Helena tried to align her still sleep-hazy thoughts. ‘What?’
‘Cynthia. I saw the whole thing. I should warn you now. Whatever you are planning to tell Uncle Lachlan, he is not going to be pleased. But it will be lovely to see Clio and Thomas!’
Furrowing her brow, Helena shook her head and grappled with the wild red curls obstructing her view. ‘I didn’t invite Clio and Thomas.’
Ellie giggled as her ferret scrambled up the coverlet and scampered to where Hamlet curled next to Helena’s legs. ‘Well, they’re coming.’
Helena was unaccountably nervous. She changed her dress three times.
First, the mint day dress. Then the dark-blue one that contrasted with her hair.
She finally settled on her favourite green silk gown with a daring neckline.
Helena never spent time contemplating her reflection.
She was of average height and slender build.
Her breasts were modest but drew the eye in a tight corset.
Her face didn’t herald sonnets, but she was striking in the right lighting.
She knew her strengths and played to them when needed.
But today felt different. Today felt… important.
‘Dear goddess. I’m primping. In front of a mirror. For a woman who isn’t even sure of her desires.’
Hamlet sat next to her, his bushy tail neatly wrapped around his feet. He blinked at her with stoic contemplation.
‘Can you hear animals’ thoughts?’
Cynthia’s question echoed in her mind. She crouched next to her familiar, running her hand between his ears and down his back.
‘Can she hear your thoughts, Hamlet?’
The fox bumped his head against her knee and yipped. His golden eyes glowed in the early-evening light.
‘Is that a yes? Or are you telling me I’m crazy?’
The enigmatic fox rested his paw on her knee.
Ellie rushed into Helena’s dressing room in a pale-pink summer gown that cinched tight at the waist and flared over her hips. Her blonde curls were piled high, and her cheeks were flushed. ‘You look lovely, Helena. Come on, Cynthia just arrived.’
Butterflies fluttered in her belly. Which was ridiculous.
What she told Cynthia in the carriage was true. She had explored pleasure with a few women, but she never let it go beyond fulfilling a physical desire. Like scratching an itch or indulging in a slice of cake. Moments of madness best forgotten by morning.
While pursuing a discreet affair with someone was not impossible, it carried with it certain risks.
Intimate friendships among women made it far easier to conceal a romantic attachment in plain sight.
Spinsters could lodge together without raising any eyebrows, for who really cared about the private habits of inconsequential middle-class ladies if their families did not raise a fuss?
Aunt Rowan certainly wouldn’t begrudge Helena a partner if she wished to pursue a lasting romance.
But such an arrangement would be far more difficult to maintain under the watchful eyes of the beau monde’s most vicious gossips.
More to the point, Helena didn’t want to pursue such permanent bonds. She knew the dangers of giving her heart to another. Her mother willingly sacrificed all that was light and good within herself to a man who twisted her magic for his own gain. She would never follow in such foolish footsteps.
She closed her eyes, refusing to acknowledge the sacrifice her mother was willing to make for blood magic, or the price she forced Helena to pay.
The unexplainable force drawing her to Cynthia couldn’t possibly be more powerful than her fear of becoming just like her mother. Losing sight of her purpose and her power in pursuit of love. It was a path she refused to walk.
Besides, she didn’t even know if Cynthia wished for anything more with Helena than a passing flirtation. A widowed marchioness ensconced in society’s expectations could get away with much, but a sapphic relationship was beyond the pale. Certain rules simply couldn’t be flouted.
‘Come, Helena. Everyone is waiting.’ Ellie tugged on her hand.
Helena nodded at her reflection, decision made.
Flirtations? Fine.
Explorations? Marvellous.
Commitment? Never.
It was better for them both. Helena wouldn’t risk losing herself, and Cynthia wouldn’t risk losing her place in society.
‘We can’t possibly let a marchioness wait.’ Helena winked at her cousin and followed her down the stairs.
Aunt Rowan sat at the head of their table.
For a woman about to enter her fifth decade, she was striking with chestnut hair piled in braids, curls, and twists.
Her trim waist and smooth skin were the envy of every blue-blooded lady she served at All Things Bright and Beautiful.
Indeed, her defiance of time’s ravages was one reason why the apothecary was so popular amongst the wealthiest ladies in society.
Surely the proprietress must know the secrets of eternal youth and glowing beauty to have maintained such a constant bloom.
‘Lady Burrows, it is a pleasant surprise to have you dining with us this evening. Helena never invites… friends… to dinner.’
If Helena could have struck her aunt mute with a hasty hex, she would have done so and damned the consequences. Instead, she sent her a withering glare, resulting in Aunt Rowan’s smile widening.
Meddling witch!
Cynthia’s cheeks flushed pink. She wore black again this evening, though her gown was far less revealing than the costume she poured herself into the night before.
Still, Helena was distracted by the contrast of her pale skin against ebony bombazine, a fabric far too heavy for the summer warmth.
She hated to see Cynthia swathed in colours of mourning for a man as undeserving as Hubert Burrows.
‘I’m honoured to join you.’ She flicked her gaze to Helena before demurely sampling the soup. Helena had never before been so fascinated to watch someone blow on hot chicken consommé.
‘You said you needed to update us, lass. Is it somethin’ to do with the case?’ Uncle Lachlan sat at the opposite end of the table to Aunt Rowan. Every so often, his gaze would wander to her, and his thoughts, usually clear and easy for Helena to read, would become muddled and fuzzy.
She knew her aunt had cast a spell long ago to keep whatever secrets Rowan had with Uncle Lachlan hidden safely away from meddling little witches.
Helena, Clio, and Ellie had spent many late nights spinning out possible stories that would explain the strange enmity between Aunt Rowan and Uncle Lachlan.
But their tricksy aunt used her impressive magic to block the girls from seeing anything.
Clio couldn’t delve into their pasts. Helena couldn’t read their thoughts about each other.
Ellie couldn’t see any possible future for them.
It was a point of shared frustration between the cousins.
Helena took a deep breath before she quickly summarised her adventure with Cynthia at The Devil’s Bargain the previous evening.
‘You did what?’ Uncle Lachlan’s growl was nearly drowned out by Cynthia’s brother.
‘What the bloody hell were you thinking, Cyn?’ Thomas slammed his hand down so hard, the cutlery jumped.
‘Bastard!’ Sir Robin added cheerfully from his perch on Clio’s chair.
Cynthia smiled one of her debutante smiles at her brother.
Helena had to give her credit for brash courage.
‘Calm yourself, Thomas. No harm came of it.’ Her gaze once more found Helena.
‘Thanks to Helena, that is. I must say, Superintendent MacDougal, you were right about Damien Sinclair being a devil. He is an incredibly unpleasant man.’
‘How dare he try to blackmail you!’ Ellie rarely showed anger. She was far more prone to soft emotions. But her loyalty to those she loved was more powerful than a gale-force wind and just as destructive.
Clio put a hand over her husband’s. ‘Thomas is right to be concerned, Cynthia. That was terribly reckless.’
‘Terribly reckless!’ Sir Robin nodded, winking at Cynthia.
Cynthia tipped up her chin and squared her shoulders in defiance.
Her hazel eyes were more brown than green tonight as she held Clio’s gaze.
‘I appreciate your concern, Clio. But I am a grown woman capable of making my own choices. This was simply a business meeting with Mr Sinclair to determine the extent of my husband’s debts, and whether or not Sinclair was the bastard who murdered Hubert. ’
Uncle Lachlan’s face flushed. His thoughts left no doubt that he was furious with them for going to a very dangerous part of London to speak with an even more dangerous man without asking him for help.
‘The very reason why you should never have gone alone! You underestimate your vulnerability, Cyn.’ Thomas was of one mind with Uncle Lachlan on this point. ‘As your brother, it’s my duty to protect you. I can’t allow you to engage in such dangerous activities.’
Cynthia’s voice was frighteningly soft. ‘You can’t allow me?’
Oh dear goddess. Cynthia is going to kill her brother in our dining room. And I shall have to help her hide his body. Clio will never forgive us, but really. The man brought this fate onto himself.
Thomas seemed to recognise his mistake, but like most men, he blundered forward regardless. ‘Exactly.’