Chapter 15
Despite her exhaustion, Helena had slept very little after the Harbury Ball.
Tristan had occupied her thoughts, his unexpected change toward her refusing to leave her mind.
He had never been uncivil or unkind, but she had missed the genuine comfort of their friendship before they married and had gradually accepted that there was supposedly no place for it within the arrangement they had made.
Yet, at Harbury's Ball, he had been more than an agreeable companion. He had been positively charming, meeting her gaze so directly that a warm flutter stirred somewhere beneath her composure, speaking to her in a tone that bordered upon flirtation.
As she sipped her tea at the breakfast table, her appetite almost entirely absent, she watched Tristan with curiosity, wondering whether, in the clear light of morning, he would return to the reserved husband he had become.
"Not hungry?" Tristan asked, glancing at her lips as she lowered her teacup.
"Apparently not." Helena offered him a small smile.
One eyebrow rose before he looked back to his plate. "Well," he said, buttering a slice of toast before generously spooning strawberry jam over it, "Georgiana must either be feeling decidedly out of sorts or sleeping through breakfast after surviving her first grand ball."
"She was downstairs a moment before you arrived," Beatrice replied, brushing an imaginary speck of lint from Oliver's shoulder as he sat beside her. "But a letter was brought for her, and she asked whether I minded if she read it before returning."
Without a word, Tristan slid the plate holding the buttered toast and jam toward Helena.
She blinked at him in surprise before accepting it. "You needn't have..."
"On the contrary." He leaned back in his chair with an air of complete reasonableness.
"You cannot begin the day sustained by tea alone, dear Helena.
We have a card party to endure this evening, and I should hate for you to expire from hunger halfway through someone's riveting account of the weather. "
A reluctant smile escaped her.
"There," he said with evident satisfaction. "Already an improvement." He glanced toward Beatrice and paused. "Georgiana has received an extraordinary amount of correspondence of late. Is it all from admiring ladies, or has some gentleman found the courage to write?"
"I wondered the same," Beatrice replied. "She has not mentioned either to me. Though," she added after a moment's thought, "I suspect there is a gentleman among them. She wears a rather particular expression whenever one of the letters arrives."
"She did not seem to favor anyone especially, last night," Helena remarked. "I wonder who it could be."
"I am surprised you noticed anyone at all," Beatrice said dryly, her eyes bright with amusement.
Helena felt warmth rise to her cheeks before she laughed. "In truth, I confess I was rather distracted by your brother. I do not believe I have ever seen him enjoy a ball so thoroughly."
"An exceptionally agreeable evening," Tristan replied, sending her a grin over the rim of his teacup.
Helena met his eyes, searching them for some sign that the warmth of the previous evening had vanished with the dawn.
Apparently, it had not. The reserved, practical husband she had grown accustomed to seemed to have stepped aside, replaced once more by the gentleman she had first come to admire.
The discovery brought an answering smile to her lips before she could suppress it.
That evening, as the Wycliffe party was announced into Lady Norwood's drawing room, Helena let her gaze travel over the assembled guests. She found herself wondering which of the eligible gentlemen might be Georgiana's mysterious correspondent.
There were several young bachelors among the company, but her attention settled upon one older gentleman in particular; Lord Ravenscroft.
Helena's posture became imperceptibly straighter. They had crossed paths on more than one occasion over the last few weeks, yet he had always kept their exchanges brief before directing his attention elsewhere.
Tristan glanced at Helena, as though he had sensed the subtle change through the hand resting upon his arm. She looked up at him and offered a small smile. His dark eyes met hers, and her smile deepened of its own accord.
Lord Ravenscroft was undeniably handsome, she couldn’t deny that.
Fair-haired and impeccably presented, there was not a single detail of his appearance that had escaped careful consideration.
Yet as Helena looked at Tristan, she found herself drawn to him in a way she never had been to Lord Ravenscroft.
His coat, cut perfectly to his tall frame, followed the breadth of his shoulders and the clean lines of his figure, without appearing the least contrived. He wore it as though he had never once considered the impression he made. There was an unstudied distinction about him.
His height and physicality gave him a commanding presence, yet he bore it with such natural elegance that it never appeared deliberate. Helena found there was something infinitely more appealing in a gentleman who had nothing to prove.
"Yes?" he murmured as they moved farther into the room.
Warmth rose to Helena's cheeks. "May I not smile at my own husband?" she returned softly. She still felt cautious, wondering when his more reserved nature would return, but decided she would enjoy the change while it lasted.
One corner of his mouth curved, his eyes alight with unmistakable mischief, before he turned to greet Lady Norwood.
After the party had exchanged greetings with their hostess, Tristan was almost immediately claimed by one of the older gentlemen in attendance, who appeared determined to engage him in a conversation on horses, politics, and every other subject gentlemen reserved for one another.
Helena had barely turned before she found herself met by Lord Ravenscroft's warm smile. "I am most delighted your family could join us this evening," he said. "Tell me, Lady Blackmere, how do you fare? And are Sir Benedict and Lady Fairchild both in good health?"
"Oh!" Helena returned his smile with polite warmth, even though she immediately felt apprehensive and wished for an escape. "Thank you. We were very much looking forward to Lady Norwood's card party. My parents are both quite well, as am I." Sensing he expected more, she added, "And yourself?"
"I am exceedingly well." He lifted his head. "Though I confess I owe you an apology."
Helena was careful not to let her surprise show. "Indeed?"
"I was most unfair to you." His expression was one of sincere regret.
"I shall even admit that I did not favor your match with Lord Blackmere.
Yet having seen you together..." He smiled.
"I find I was entirely mistaken. You make a remarkable couple, and I sincerely wish you every happiness this life has to offer. "
Helena returned the smile. "That is most gracious of you. There is no need for an apology, it is quite behind us now, but I thank you all the same."
They spoke together a few moments longer, yet Helena found herself watching him more closely than listening.
She searched for the smallest inconsistency, some fleeting expression that might betray the motive she remained convinced lay beneath his civility.
She found nothing. That, perhaps, troubled her most.
She did not wait long before another possibility presented itself.
Cards were played, a quartet filled the room with music, and refreshments were served before the furniture was moved aside for dancing.
Helena watched as Georgiana accepted Lord Ravenscroft's invitation for the first set.
But, when he claimed her hand again for the next, an uncomfortable thought took root; perhaps he was the gentleman behind the letters Georgiana had been receiving.
When the dancing concluded, Helena found herself standing beside Beatrice and Lady Norwood as they fell into conversation on the success of the evening and the prospects of the remaining Season.
She answered when required, though her attention wandered more often than she cared to admit.
Her gaze returned repeatedly to Georgiana, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely among the company, especially as Lord Ravenscroft was never far away.
There was nothing Helena could reasonably object to, as his conduct was beyond reproach.
He neither monopolized Georgiana's company nor encouraged gossip by showing her undue preference.
Had she known nothing of the gentleman beyond that evening, she might have thought him one of the most agreeable men in the room.
Yet, Helena watched him more closely than she listened to Lady Norwood's account of her granddaughter's music lessons.
Every courteous smile, every spoken word, every glance directed toward Georgiana seemed almost too polished.
She searched for the smallest indication that the man before them differed from the one she believed him to be.
When Lord Ravenscroft later crossed the room to speak with another guest, Georgiana watched him go.
The moment was brief, but it was enough to convince Helena that her earlier suspicion had not been misplaced.
If Lord Ravenscroft was indeed the author of Georgiana's mysterious letters, he had already succeeded in securing her interest.
Helena had only just returned her attention to Lady Norwood when Tristan appeared at her side.
"Forgive me," he said to the ladies. "May I borrow my wife for a moment?"
Lady Norwood smiled knowingly. "You may indeed, Lord Blackmere."
Tristan offered Helena his arm. She accepted it without question, allowing him to lead her toward one of the tall windows overlooking the gardens, where the murmur of conversation faded into the background.
"You have been watching Lord Ravenscroft all evening," he observed once they were beyond easy hearing.
Helena looked up at him. "Was I so obvious?"
"Only to me." He smiled.
She felt herself return his smile, but she glanced back to Lord Ravenscroft again. "I cannot help it."
Tristan's gaze followed hers across the room to where Georgiana stood in conversation with the baron yet again.
"Nor can I," he admitted. "I have watched him seek her company more than once this evening.
He even danced with her twice." His eyes remained upon the pair.
"He has conducted himself impeccably, and I cannot fault a single word or action. "
"Neither can I." Helena watched as Georgiana laughed at something Lord Ravenscroft had said, her expression bright with admiration. "She likes him," Helena murmured.
"She does," Tristan agreed.
"And yet..." Helena said quietly.
Tristan looked back at her.
She drew in a breath. "He still bothers me. Not because of anything he has done this evening, but because I cannot reconcile the gentleman everyone else sees with the man I came to know."
Tristan's expression grew thoughtful. "Nor can I," he said at last. "He has presented himself as an honorable gentleman tonight.
He has given us no cause to object, no impropriety to question.
" His gaze returned briefly to Lord Ravenscroft.
"He is choosing to present this appearance and his attention to Georgiana tonight, to both us and a small party of society. This act is contrived, and I wonder when it began.”
“Perhaps it began even before they spoke that morning on the promenade,” Helena offered. “But this is hardly the moment to discuss it. We shall have ample opportunity to compare our thoughts, and hear what Beatrice makes of it, once we are home.”
By the end of the evening, the Wycliffe party descended Lady Norwood's front steps just as their carriage drew to a halt before the house. A footman hurried forward to lower the steps while another opened the carriage door. Tristan first offered his hand to Beatrice, assisting her inside.
Helena remained where she was, a smile playing at her lips. She suspected she knew what he was about. He had done the same on their journey to the card party, helping everyone else into the carriage before offering her his hand last.
Only once she had taken her seat had he climbed in after her, wearing a look of satisfaction in his smile after he occupied the seat opposite her, and continued to steal glances at her the entire carriage ride. She could not help wondering if he meant to arrange matters the same way again.
Tristan turned toward Georgiana and held out his hand, but before she could take it, Lord Ravenscroft stepped forward with a courteous bow.
"Miss Wycliffe," he said. "Permit me."
Georgiana accepted his hand with a delighted smile, allowing him to assist her into the carriage. "Thank you, Lord Ravenscroft."
"The pleasure is entirely mine." Lord Ravenscroft then turned his attention back to Tristan. "Lord Blackmere, if I may have a word."
"Certainly," Tristan responded, but Helena noticed the slight furrow in his brow.
"I hope you will forgive my boldness," Lord Ravenscroft began. "I have greatly enjoyed Miss Wycliffe's company these past weeks, and this evening especially, and would consider it a privilege if you would permit me to call upon her."
Helena's gaze shifted instinctively to Tristan. His expression remained composed, revealing nothing of the conversation they had shared earlier that evening.
"I appreciate the respect you have shown my sister by addressing me directly," Tristan replied, though Helena noticed a slight tension in his jaw. "This is not a request I wish to answer without proper consideration. If you will permit me a day or two, I shall write to you with my response."
Lord Ravenscroft lifted his head without the slightest hint of disappointment. "Of course. I should expect nothing less. I shall look forward to receiving your letter."
The gentlemen exchanged bows before Lord Ravenscroft turned once more toward the carriage.
Helena glanced at Georgiana, who had plainly heard enough of the exchange to understand its meaning. Though she attempted to hide it by lowering her eyes, a smile found its way to her lips, one she seemed quite unable to suppress.
Lord Ravenscroft offered the ladies a final bow before ascending Lady Norwood's steps. Only then did Tristan extend his hand to Helena.
She placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her into the carriage. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she stepped inside. Neither spoke, but she recognized the same concern in his expression that she felt herself.