Chapter Five
Helen fluffed out her skirts. The elderly muslin had faded until you could barely make out the pattern of blue birds which now more closely resembled a flock of gray wrens.
There was a tiny hole near the waist, barely noticeable and could be mistaken for the eye of a bird if one didn’t look too closely.
At least her half-boots were still serviceable, which was something.
Lord Galway had strongly suggested that Lady Cerise and Helen take a walk in the park at exactly eleven o’clock.
Exercise was not his primary concern; he merely wanted to have his well-bred daughter parade through the grass and flowers before a host of potential suitors.
Helen had strict instructions that she and Cerise were to stroll sedately down the path winding along the Serpentine.
Galway’s carriage, with driver and footmen, would wait a short distance away.
After two days of rain, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, so Helen welcomed any opportunity to be in the fresh air, even if it was at the command of Galway and in the company of Cerise.
Helen took one last look in the mirror to ensure her bonnet was situated properly. Not that anyone would be looking in her direction, but she could still take pride in her appearance. Faded muslin or not.
“Hurry along, Miss Cosgrove,” Cerise’s voice echoed from the foyer laced with loathing. “Stop admiring yourself.” The sound of her foot tapping beneath her skirts reached Helen.
“I am only adjusting my bonnet,” she answered, before coming down the stairs.
“Papa says we must promenade.” She checked the small watch attached to her waist. “Lord Lowell rides every day at this time and we cannot be late.”
Lord Lowell the attractive, wealthy earl related to a duke, who Galway had identified as the front runner for Cerise’s hand.
“Promenading is a necessity.” Galway appeared from the depths of the house, eyes drifting over his daughter before settling on Helen. “How else for every gentleman to see your graceful stroll, my dear? I daresay you’ll be admired on your outing.”
The patently false smile, one Galway had likely perfected over years of use, flashed, exposing a row of yellowing teeth.
He came forward, pressing a brief kiss to his daughter’s cheek.
“You look lovely in this shade of green. A good choice, I think. Lowell will be smitten as will everyone else who sees you.”
Cerise’s cheeks pinked at her father’s praise. Thank you, my lord.”
“Off you go. Enjoy the park and this fine weather. Don’t wander off. I’ll expect you back in two hours if not before.” Galway’s eyes focused on the tiny hole at Helen’s waist. “Two hours,” he said again, daring her to say otherwise.
Barely enough time to take a decent walk.
Cerise inclined her head and walked out the door to the waiting carriage.
Helen moved to follow but halted as Galway addressed her.
“A word, Miss Cosgrove,” he purred with a hint of menace, as if she’d already disappointed him simply by standing in the foyer.
She clasped her hands and waited patiently for him to speak.
Possibly she was overdue for yet another lecture on how poorly she executed her duty to Cerise.
Or perhaps it was to advise Helen, once more, that if so much as a kiss was stolen from his precious daughter, she would be tossed into the fires of hell.
Reupdated and reviled all over London for her enormous failure.
Cerise’s reputation would be ruined, and it would be all Helen’s fault.
No matter that Cerise behaved like a trollop.
Galway was a pompous, arrogant…arse. Helen had to tamp down her dislike or she’d say so.
“Lady Cerise is not to leave your sight, Miss Cosgrove. I do not want a repeat of the Stout ball when you failed in your duties. I will not overlook your carelessness again.”
If Galway only knew that Helen had rescued his overbred, vain twit of a daughter from certain ruin by London’s most notorious libertine.
Cerise was such a peahen, so vastly enamored of herself, that she actually believed Roxboro would toss aside the daughter of Earl of Canterbell, Lord Speaker of Parliament, for her.
In all honesty, Helen had likely rescued Roxboro.
She stifled the giggle crawling up her throat at the thought. Terribly inappropriate under the circumstances.
Galway’s breath fanned along Helen’s right cheek, closer than necessary, but certain of his power over her. Her amusement faded in an instant.
“Actions have consequences, Miss Cosgrove,” his voice lowered. “I should hate that for you.”
Doubtful.
He longed for a misstep. Begged for any infraction he might hold over her head. Galway thrived on the power he held over others. The other day he berated a footman for a loose button, smiling from ear to ear as the poor lad shook, terrified he’d be sacked.
Over a bloody button.
She drew in a slow breath and regained her composure. Galway, much like a dog, could sense fear. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction.
The lines around his mouth deepened, lips thinning at her refusal to be ruffled. “Do you understand.” The tip of his finger dug purposefully into the edge of her shoulder, hard enough she winced. “Miss Cosgrove?”
Threats. Again.
She hoped Lowell was so smitten with Cerise, he’d wed her immediately because Helen was exhausted with Galway and his innuendos.
The constant intimidation. Three years of suffering under his rule was quite enough.
But she’d come this far and must-see things through.
Endangering her future by voicing her opinion would not serve her well.
Nor kicking him in the shins, which she also wanted to do.
Helen couldn’t possibly despise anyone more than Galway.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied calmly.
“So polite. Modest. Not so much as a hair out of place.” A chuckle came from Galway. “The perfect lady’s companion, aren’t you, Miss Cosgrove?” He leaned closer. “But I suspect there is more to you.”
Good grief. There isn’t.
She wanted to tell Galway that his yellowing teeth reminded her of a lizard. That despite Helen’s best efforts, Cerise was destined to become a harlot in the ton.
Biting her lip in order to keep those thoughts from bubbling out, Helen stayed silent.
She must. The additional sum promised at the end of this tortuous existence was the only thing that kept Helen from slapping at Galway.
She didn’t care if he gave her a bloody reference, because after shepherding his tart of a daughter through another Season, Helen had vowed never to be a chaperone or lady’s companion ever again.
Or live beneath another’s thumb, dancing to their tune.
She would have a home, one that no one could take from her. A damned cat. Maybe a dozen.
“I’m pleased we understand each other, Miss Cosgrove. You will report to me directly upon your return from the park. I will await you in my study.”
Helen swayed but quickly dug in her heels.
She hadn’t been alone with Galway in months, always choosing to speak to him with a maid or one of the footmen present.
Not that any of the staff would dare come to her rescue should Galway make advances, but he would be less inclined to do so if others might witness her refusal. His ego wouldn’t allow it.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Splendid.”
Helen stayed still until Galway retreated, disappearing in the direction of his study.
She exhaled softly at the click of his study door.
She imagined him settling behind his desk, smiling and congratulating himself at having trapped Helen like some defenseless rabbit.
Twiddling his fingers as the villain had done in a play she’d seen once.
Two more deep breaths and Helen walked out to the carriage where Cerise impatiently waited.
She could flee with only the clothes on her back, that was how badly she didn’t want to face Galway upon her return.
But Helen did not. She wasn’t a coward. Nor rash.
Her future gleamed before her, a shiny jewel of an existence that years of careful planning had now put within reach.
But she was, without a doubt, trapped for the time being.
“Why my father has any interest in you, Miss Cosgrove, continues to mystify me.” Cerise observed as Helen climbed inside the carriage. “I find you exceptionally tedious.”
Twit. “Lord Galway’s only interest was in reminding me that our time in the park is limited.”
“Perhaps his interest would wane if you ceased throwing yourself at him.” Cerise tilted her dainty little chin. “I find it disgraceful.”
As if Cerise had the right to pass judgement on anyone given her behavior.
Helen clasped her hands, pasting a bland look on her features, one perfected by living in Galway’s household and didn’t bother to reply. She’d never once encouraged Galway and avoided him as much as possible.
“Can’t even defend yourself, can you?” Cerise made a sound.
“My father often…admires the stray maid or governess, that much is true.” She fluffed out her skirts.
“Undoubtedly, you’ve heard as much from the staff and seek to further your own ambitions.
I suppose I shouldn’t blame you given your…
. background is of questionable origin. You haven’t many options, after all. ”
Helen clasped her fingers tighter, temper rising at the insult. That Cerise knew of her father’s predilections was no surprise. The entire household was aware. Nor was the girl’s opinion of Helen’s background any great secret.
“But he’ll lose interest in you after a short time. He always does.”
I wish he would lose all interest now.
“Miss Cork once had those same aspirations.” Cerise gave a sharp laugh. “She had the mad idea that my father might wed her. Can you imagine? A governess becoming a marchioness? It is less likely,” she said coldly. “That a lady’s companion might do the same.”
Miss Cork had been this brat’s governess and Galway’s lover before Helen’s arrival.