Chapter 4
The morning after Lord Ravenscroft's ball, Tristan held Oliver's hand as they made their way toward the park.
He had hoped for a peaceful morning in which to turn his attention back to estate matters, yet his thoughts had returned more than once to Helena and all that he had observed the previous evening.
Oliver, however, had reminded him of the promise to visit the park before lunch with such determined enthusiasm that Tristan had smiled, obtained Beatrice's permission, and found himself walking through the London streets instead.
He glanced down at the seven-year-old beside him, who was explaining with great conviction that he had no intention of ever attending balls merely to dance with girls in pretty gowns.
"You may change your mind one day," Tristan remarked with a smile. "Particularly when you discover you wish to marry one of those young ladies in pretty gowns."
Oliver looked positively horrified. "I shall not!" he declared. After giving the matter further thought, he added, "I mean to live with you, Mama, and Aunt Georgie forever. I do not wish to live anywhere else."
Tristan laughed. He remembered thinking much the same when he was Oliver's age. "You need not live anywhere else until you wish to," he replied. "And certainly not before you are grown."
"Good." Oliver seemed entirely satisfied by the arrangement.
Tristan shook his head with an amused smile, silently resolving to remind his nephew of the conversation should the boy one day return home thoroughly captivated by some young lady.
Oliver looked up at his uncle expectantly as they crossed the road into the park.
Tristan gave a small nod, and the boy immediately raced ahead toward the pond, where several children were already gathered to watch the ducks.
Tristan followed at a more leisurely pace, his gaze never straying far from Oliver, though his thoughts wandered elsewhere once again.
He found himself remembering Helena as she had returned to the ballroom the previous evening.
She had crossed the room without once looking for a familiar face or pausing to exchange a word with anyone.
Instead, she had made directly for the terrace doors, her complexion unusually pale and her attention seemingly fixed upon nothing in particular.
Something about the change in her had caught his attention immediately.
Before he had fully considered the matter, he had found himself taking a glass of lemonade from a passing footman and following her outside.
It was not often that Helena's composure deserted her. Throughout the years he had known her, she had always possessed a confidence that seldom faltered. That night had been different.
What troubled him most was not that she had refused to tell him what was wrong.
It was that she had said it was not something to be discussed at the ball.
Those words had remained with him long after they had parted.
They told him there was something to discuss, only that she was either unable or unwilling to speak of it while she remained Lord Ravenscroft's guest.
Tristan watched as Oliver joined a game of catch with several other children upon the lawn. Satisfied that his nephew was happily occupied, he allowed his attention to wander across the park. It was then that he caught sight of Helena.
She was walking along one of the winding paths at a brisk pace, her maid hurrying after her trying to keep up.
Her head was lowered, her arms folded tightly across herself, and she appeared so absorbed in her thoughts that she noticed neither the families strolling nearby nor the children playing upon the grass.
After one last glance toward Oliver, Tristan crossed the lawn and stepped onto the path ahead of Helena.
Only when she was a few paces away did Helena look up.
For the briefest moment, before she had time to compose herself, he caught sight of the expression upon her face.
She looked troubled, almost overwhelmed, as though she were carrying a burden alone.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the expression vanished.
"Helena?" he said gently.
She let out a quiet breath, looking away before returning her attention to him with a smile that failed to disguise the strain in her eyes.
"My apologies, Tristan. My thoughts were elsewhere.
" She gave the smallest shake of her head.
"I believe the festivities of last evening have left me rather fatigued. "
"Are you well?" he asked.
"Indeed, I am," she replied too quickly. "Mary and I merely wished for a little fresh air before lunch. We walked farther than we intended and quite forgot the hour. I really must make haste before Mama begins to wonder where I have gone."
Tristan regarded her for a moment. The explanation was perfectly reasonable, yet he did not believe a word of it.
Helena met his gaze and, with the slightest tilt of her head, silently asked him not to press the matter.
"Very well," he said with a smile. "Do give my regards to Sir Benedict and Lady Fairchild."
"And mine to your family." She offered him another brief smile and continued along the path. Mary, hurrying after her, gave Tristan an apologetic glance as she passed, as though she too wished there were something she could say.
Tristan watched them disappear among the trees; then, turning back toward the lawn, his concern only deepening. Whatever had happened the previous evening, Helena was bearing it alone, and he found himself wishing there was some way of helping her.
"Who was that?" Oliver asked, suddenly appearing at his side.
"A friend of mine," Tristan replied. "She is also a dear friend of your mama's and Georgiana's."
Oliver looked back along the path where Helena had disappeared. "She looked rather sad, don't you think?"
Tristan followed his gaze. "She did."
Oliver frowned thoughtfully. "Are you going to help her?"
Tristan raised his eyebrows as he considered the question. "If she should ever ask me to, I shall."
Oliver remained silent before asking, "Did none of the boys dance with her last night?"
Tristan laughed. "I think it is rather more complicated than that, Ollie."
"Girls are very puzzling," Oliver concluded.
"Sometimes they are," Tristan agreed.
After a successful outing to the park, Tristan returned a considerably less energetic Oliver to the house. Handing the boy over to Beatrice, he smiled. "I shall see you all at dinner. I am meeting Nathaniel at the club for lunch."
"How wonderful," Beatrice replied, kissing Oliver's cheek. "Give him our regards; and do try to persuade him to join us this evening."
"I shall do my best." Tristan glanced down at his nephew. "This young duck behaved remarkably well in the park. He joined a game with several of the other children and even resisted the temptation to terrorize the real ducks."
Oliver laughed. "I never terrorize ducks!"
Georgiana looked up from her embroidery with an amused smile. "Is that so? Then why do you suppose we call you one? You were quite obsessed with ducks when you were little."
"I liked the way they walked!" Oliver protested.
Tristan laughed to himself as he left the parlor, remembering how Oliver, as a toddler, had spent an entire summer waddling after the ducks at Blackmere hoping they might accept him as one of their own.
Pulling on his gloves, Tristan reached for his hat before stepping out through the front door and setting off in the direction of his club.
Nathaniel was late, as he almost always was.
Tristan swirled the brandy in his glass as he waited, thinking back to their years at Eton.
Nathaniel had possessed an extraordinary talent for losing track of time, and Tristan had long ago resigned himself to the role of ensuring Nathaniel got where he needed to be on time.
Some habits, it seemed, were never outgrown.
Tristan did not particularly mind. Having spent the past three years almost entirely at Blackmere, there were many acquaintances to greet since returning to London.
It was while speaking with one of his former schoolmates that he learned the piece of news everyone else in the club seemed equally eager to discuss.
Miss Fairchild had broken off her engagement to Lord Ravenscroft.
The gentleman lowered his voice, though there was little need, for the subject appeared to occupy almost every conversation taking place throughout the room.
"I heard it from Lord Ravenscroft himself," he said. "She sent him a note this morning ending the engagement. The poor fellow seemed quite overcome by it. From what I gathered, she has questioned his very character."
For a brief moment, Tristan felt an unexpected sense of relief before curiosity quickly replaced it.
Helena had ended the engagement. Whatever had troubled her the previous evening had clearly been of far greater consequence than he had imagined.
Yet, he could not picture her acting without good reason.
"What did the note say?" he asked.
"So far as I understand it, she wrote that she had reason to question his loyalty and could not, in good conscience, marry a gentleman whose faithfulness she doubted." The gentleman shrugged. "I had hoped to hear more, but Lord Ravenscroft was called away before he could elaborate."
Tristan regarded him thoughtfully. "I am quite certain Miss Fairchild would not make such an accusation without sufficient cause," he said at last. "She is one of the most sensible ladies I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Our families have been friends for many years."
The gentleman looked mildly surprised. "Is that so?" he replied. "Many seem inclined to believe she has behaved very poorly indeed by her manner and supposed reasoning for ending their engagement."