Chapter 18 #3
Helena kept a wary gaze on Lippert as she led the way out of the small house. When the door was shut behind them, and they stood in a sunny patch on the street where Cynthia’s carriage waited, she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘That could have been better, but it also could have been far worse.’
Cynthia didn’t answer. She stared at the street as though it held precious answers to questions Helena could only guess were racing through her mind.
What I wouldn’t give to hear her thoughts.
It was becoming a constant refrain whenever they were together. Helena felt helpless to support Cynthia when she didn’t know what the woman was thinking.
The footman leapt down from his perch, opened the door and helped both women into the landau.
Hamlet yipped at Helena, nearly bowling her over as he leapt from the carriage floor into her lap the moment she settled herself on the squabs. The poor thing must have been terrified. She ran her hands over his soft fur. ‘We’re all right, Hamlet.’
‘He was worried for us,’ Cynthia said before pressing her lips together as if she might somehow recall her words.
‘Did he tell you that?’
Drat. This is hardly the right time to confront her with her powers.
No matter how courageous Cynthia had been in the dingy row house, Helena knew she was raw and bleeding from her conversation with George Lippert.
She had discovered several horrifying truths about her husband and somehow decided she was at fault for not stopping the man.
Which was ridiculous and something Helena wanted to talk about.
But Cynthia wasn’t ready. And she certainly wasn’t ready to discuss the fact that she was most certainly a witch.
Helena waved away her own question. ‘Never mind.’
‘Never mind?’ Disbelief coated her words. ‘You accuse me of being able to, what? Speak to your fox? I would be a lunatic if I thought I could communicate with animals.’
‘Or a witch.’
Cynthia’s laugh was strained. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.
I’ve seen what you and Clio can do. I suspect Ellie is just as enchanting.
You were born into something incredible and unique.
I was born to be a marquess’s wife. Look how well I’m doing with that.
’ Her laughter bordered on hysterical. ‘There is nothing magical about me.’
Helena couldn’t decide which statement to contradict first, or how carefully she should tread. ‘You were magnificent with that dog in front of the carriage. If you don’t believe you have magic running through your veins, explain that moment to me.’
Cynthia opened her mouth, shut it, opened it again, and tears filled her eyes before she exhaled a shaky breath. ‘I don’t know what that was.’
Accepting power and significance could be a terrifying thing. Especially when Cynthia had been raised to believe her only worth came from the opinion of others.
She needed time and comfort. Two things Helena was scared to provide.
Because she was at risk of breaking more than just her oath to do no harm.
Cynthia Burrows was the kind of woman she could give her heart to.
And that was impossible for Helena. This day had reminded her why love was dangerous for her.
She might not be able to provide comfort, but Hamlet could. She whispered into his pointed ear. ‘Go on.’
He turned to her, golden eyes meeting grey.
Hamlet would never be so crass as to lick Helena, but he bumped his head against her cheek before nimbly hopping from one side of the carriage to the other, making three tight circles and settling himself in the snug space between the right side of the carriage and Cynthia’s black skirts.
Cynthia reached her hand to Helena.
I can’t.
But she was moving before she knew it, taking Cynthia’s opposite side. It was a tight fit, but it gave her an excuse to rest her hand on Cynthia’s leg and gently squeeze her thigh through layers of silk and linen.
I’m just being a friend. There’s no harm in being a friend.
Cynthia held herself stiff for a moment before slowly sliding down on the seat until her head rested on Helena’s shoulder. Vanilla and honeysuckle blended with bergamot and lemon.
‘It isn’t your fault, you know. What your husband did to Lily.’ Helena turned so she could rest her chin on top of Cynthia’s head.
‘How many girls did he abuse, Helena? How many innocent women were hurt in my house while I fussed over my gowns and fripperies?’
‘No one would expect you to know, Cyn.’
Cynthia’s hair rubbed against her neck as she shook her head. ‘I expect me to know. I’ve always thought myself rather clever, but I’m not. I’m the world’s biggest fool.’
Helena didn’t say anything. Because there were no words to help. Instead, she let her body warm Cynthia’s. She let the quiet soothe her. She funnelled her power and poured it over Cynthia in waves of comfort. And kept her thoughts well away from what any of this meant.
There were certain facts Cynthia would need to accept about her husband. Herself. Her powers. But Helena was in no place to tell her such things when she wasn’t facing her own set of uncomfortable truths. What a pair they made.