Chapter 27 #2
Mrs Higgins lifted a shaky hand to press against her mouth. Her eyes clouded with confusion.
‘My last act as Marchioness of Kentmore is to offer you a generous pension for all you’ve done in the service of this household.
The horrid Lady Argyle could never appreciate someone of your excellence.
Your talents would be wasted on her. But there is a lovely cottage near the seaside waiting for you, and a living that will keep you flush for the rest of your days if you want it. ’
‘Oh, Lady Burrows.’
Cynthia shook her head. ‘I’m not Lady Burrows any more. And you are no longer a housekeeper. We are both free, Mrs Higgins.’
They spent rather more time than planned reassuring Mrs Higgins she wasn’t in a dream. Cynthia sent a note to her man of business to arrange a meeting with Mrs Higgins and go over the details of her retirement, and they all had a snifter of brandy to celebrate.
As Helena and Cynthia carried her ballgown across the threshold of Kentmore House together, Cynthia nudged Helena. ‘I am currently thinking about how glorious it is to walk out of this door for the last time. In case you were wondering.’
Cynthia stared brazenly into the eyes of yet another scandalised partygoer whispering behind her fan.
Lady Strathmore, if her memory served correctly.
The woman had a pinched face and rather unfortunate teeth.
Cynthia had it on good authority the baroness was having a torrid affair with her stable master.
That didn’t stop her from spreading furious gossip about the murderous Lady Burrows.
Cynthia heard the tittering as she walked through the crowded ballroom, Helena by her side.
‘…doesn’t even have the decency to wear black…’
‘…her husband’s hardly cold in his grave…’
‘…she probably murdered him herself…’
Stretching her lips into a dangerous smile, she flicked her fingers at Lady Strathmore’s goblet of wine. The screeching of the baroness conveniently drowned out Helena’s giggle as crimson liquid sloshed down the front of Lady Strathmore’s frock.
‘Cyn, you are a wicked woman.’
Cynthia raised a brow at her partner. ‘I’ve been spending time with witches. I’m sure they’ve corrupted me.’
‘You’re causing such a stir, no one has even noticed Hamlet.’
They’ve noticed me. They just don’t dare court my wrath.
The fox flicked his tail at the sputtering baroness as he pranced between Helena’s and Cynthia’s skirts.
‘Creating a scandal was exactly why the duchess bought me this dress and invited me in the first place. She’ll be thrilled her plan worked so well.’
The plunging neckline and decadent crystals dripping over silk as red as sin was the last thing a widow should ever wear, and certainly not in the first month of mourning. The duchess had insisted it would be the perfect way for Cynthia to thumb her nose at all of the peerage. She was right.
A week ago, the idea of showing Hubert’s peers how very little she missed the horrible man, while simultaneously rebelling against a world that had controlled most of her life appealed to Cynthia’s desire to tell the entire beau monde to sod off before she made a grand exit to the country.
But now, everything was different. As she stood in the centre of the ballroom, Helena beside her in a sapphire gown that flowed over her skin like water, she realised she had come to the duchess’s ball to make a very different statement.
She was preparing the beau monde for a new kind of lady in their midst. One who no longer sacrificed herself on the altar of obedience.
They could spread gossip about her, cut her direct on Bond Street, refuse to send her invitations to their soirées and garden parties.
But she refused to disappear. Because she possessed something far more valuable than their approval.
Determination to live an authentic life, consequences be damned.
‘If they think this dress is a scandal, wait until they hear that I’m turning my Mount Row townhouse into a refuge for unmarried mothers and abused women.
’ Cynthia exchanged a wicked glance with Helena.
They still had plans for the Cotswold home, but they would split their time between the two so Helena could help at All Things Bright and Beautiful during the busy summer months.
Clio and Thomas approached. Cynthia pressed a kiss to her sister-in-law’s cheeks before stepping back to admire Clio’s gown.
The bodice comprised rich purple lace that was cut low in front but rose high around her shoulders in a structured collar.
Her ruffled green skirt split to reveal an underskirt cleverly painted with peacock feathers.
Clio’s midnight hair was piled high with real peacock feathers tucked into her curls.
Her bold style would have been the talk of the ball if Cynthia hadn’t stolen her thunder.
When she turned to greet her brother, Thomas’ eyes flashed with anger.
‘Have you heard what they’re saying about you?’
Clio placed a calming hand on her husband’s arm, though the sparks dripping from her fingertips belied her false serenity.
‘That I’m a wanton widow who probably killed her husband?
Yes. I’ve heard the rumours. It would seem I’ve eclipsed your scandals, Thomas.
And I’m only just getting started.’ Cynthia stepped closer to Helena, and warm fingers pressed into the small of her back.
She glanced over her shoulder at the woman who claimed her heart.
Helena was breathtaking. Her crimson curls swept over one shoulder, trailing down her arm like a fiery waterfall.
‘How did you endure these insipid fools saying such things about your family without punching one or two of them in their smug little faces?’ Thomas growled.
‘A well-bred lady never punches peers. Although, considering I am no longer the beau monde’s shining example of propriety, perhaps you can educate me in fisticuffs.
’ Cynthia smiled at her brother. ‘Let them gossip. We have something these fools will never understand. Love. They can sputter and spit their vitriol. I will not be held prisoner to their opinions or expectations any longer.’
‘Brava, Cynthia.’ Clio squeezed her husband’s arm, sparks falling like stars. ‘Don’t worry, darling. A new scandal is sure to erupt and distract the beau monde. It always does.’
The duchess approached them, a young buck on her arm.
The older woman’s famously white hair glistened with diamonds in the gas lighting.
Her ample breasts were pushed so high, she could almost rest her chin on the wobbling globes.
She dismissed her newest paramour and pulled Cynthia into a floral hug.
‘So. This is the reason for that happy flush on your cheeks.’ The duchess’s gaze lingered on Helena.
‘Female friendships are a rare treasure, don’t you think? They can bring such unique… pleasure.’
Cynthia let her hand slip around Helena’s waist. ‘Undoubtedly. Even if some might see scandal when they should really mind their own business.’ She hoped her message was clear.
The duchess waved away her concern. ‘Pish. Only a fool would see anything untoward with such a beautiful expression of feminine companionship.’
Cynthia inclined her head, her fingers tightening against the cool silk of Helena’s dress. ‘Indeed.’
‘Is it rather hot in here?’ Helena gave Clio a meaningful look. The firewitch winked at her cousin, and suddenly, a blast of hot air washed over them. ‘I think I’ll take a turn on the terrace.’
‘That sounds refreshing.’ Cynthia tried to keep her voice calm. ‘I’ll join you.’
As they walked together towards the French doors opening onto the terrace, the duchess began grilling poor Thomas on capturing the notorious Devil of Seven Dials.
‘Your Duchess of Devon certainly has a vivid imagination. Given her current thoughts, I think we can safely assume we have her blessing. She’s also given me some ideas to try with you later.’ Helena’s eyes flashed silver as they stepped through the doors and into the cool night air.
Away from prying eyes, Cynthia reached out to take her beloved’s hand.
‘I don’t care about her approval. Or anyone else’s.
I care about you, and me, and the life we will create together.
’ She tugged Helena to an alcove tucked into a darkened corner of the terrace.
Looking up, the stars glittered in a midnight sky.
A thousand jewels scattered over the heavens.
Cynthia breathed deep and guided Helena’s hand to her waist, pulling her close.
‘We might never be able to dance together in a ballroom, or kiss while walking in Hyde Park, or declare our love in front of a priest and all our friends and family. But I will love you for the rest of my days, Helena Blair. Whether in secret, or in scandal, in sunlight or shadows, in joy or sorrow.’
Helena’s fingers traced her cheek. ‘We have beauty and adventure, and endless nights together. And mornings. And afternoons. They will never understand such magic. And now, under these stars, witnessed by the moonlight, and to the melody of the nightingale, will you dance with me, my love?’
‘It would be my greatest honour.’
Helena rested her hands on Cynthia’s hips. Cynthia wrapped her arms around Helena’s shoulders, and they swayed to a melody playing only for them as Hamlet stood sentinel, protecting the two women whose hearts beat as one.