Her Husband's Harlot (12 page)

Helena's
smile deflated a little.

"Of
course, Mama," she said.

The
Countess of Northgate nodded, her grey velvet turban slipping over her faded
brown curls. Her small hands fluttered to push the headpiece back in place as
she spoke in soft, rapid tones. "One must work very hard to please one's
husband, Helena. At times, it may seem a monumental task. I, myself, have
benefitted from consulting Lady Epplethistle's
Compleat Guide
from time
to time. Have you reviewed it lately? There are specific guidelines summarized,
I believe, beginning on page one hundred and three ..."

Helena
tried to appear attentive. Once Mama started on a topic, attempts to stop her
proved futile. Especially in social situations such as these, which tended to
stimulate her delicate nerves. The countess had always possessed a finely
balanced constitution, but since Thomas' death it seemed the smallest
provocation could agitate her sensibilities.

".
. . keeping up with the vinegar ablutions I suggested ? If not, I would fear
the return of those dreaded freckles, my dear. Gracious me, I can almost
imagine those pesky spots growing right there on the very tip of your nose! You
mustn't allow that to happen, really you mustn't. Why, what would Harteford say
..."

Since
her husband did not notice anything about her, the presence of a mere freckle
was unlikely to disturb his equilibrium. But she could not tell her mother
that. Not when Mama was already showing the telltale signs of aggravated
nerves, from the accelerating speech to the nervous head movements. She
resembled a curious sparrow, craning her neck this way and that.

With
growing worry, Helena realized she had to do something before Mama succumbed to
an attack. The sequence always followed the same pattern—an excess of
excitement culminating in collapse and weeks in bed. As a young girl, she'd
dreaded visiting her mother when the shades were drawn and the air burned with
camphor. Seeing her mother pale and wane in the curtained bed had filled her
with nameless panic. It had taken years for her to realize that her mother
would not expire from what the physician termed a disorder of the nerves.

Still,
the countess' condition had worsened in the years since Thomas' passing. The
episodes came more frequently and often lasted for weeks. Once an attack took
place, nothing seemed to help but bed rest and a minimum of stimulation. Mama
led a reclusive life as it was, drifting from room to room on the country
estate. But even amidst the rural solitude, Helena knew her mother had started
adding laudanum to the milk at bedtime.

Helena
felt a stab of guilt. Though she corresponded daily with her mother, she had
been too caught up in her new life to return to Hampshire for a visit. How amiss
she had been in her daughterly duties. And her wifely ones as well.

Dash
it all, could she do
nothing
right these days?

"I
shall be happy to lend you some of my whitening powder. I have it specifically
concocted by the Apothecary on Piccadilly and always make a point of refreshing
my supplies on my visits to London," her mother said with a trilling
laugh. "Oh, look, Helena at the clever satin appliqués on Lady Marlough's
gown. They are like leaves cascading to her hem! Are they not delicious?"

"Yes,
Mama," Helena murmured. "Perhaps we should ..."

"I
do so love London during the Season! And this is my most
favorite
event
of all. I do hope dear,
dear
Caroline will give a performance. I
declare, she outshines all the professional musicians Cecily hires for this
occasion!"

Helena
rather thought that was the point of the whole evening: to highlight her cousin
Caroline's superiority. Immediately, she chastised herself for the petty
thought. It was small of her to harbor childhood resentments. For reasons not
entirely clear, she and Caroline had never quite rubbed it off together. Likely
it had something to do with the fact that whenever Caroline was present Helena
felt like a court jester entertaining the queen.

At
any rate, Helena reminded herself, she had larger concerns to contend with—like
the hurricane of air being generated by the countess' fan.

Helena
placed a hand on her mother's arm. The frail muscles vibrated beneath her
touch. "Mama, shall we take a stroll? Aunt Cecily has a lovely garden out
in the back."

"A
wonderful idea!" The countess sprang up, her slight frame emanating an
agitated energy. "I shall lead the way. It has been too long since I have
circulated among the
beau monde
, so many people to see, la!"

"Mama,"
Helena protested.

But
it was too late. Her mother had taken flight into the throng. Helena had no
choice but to follow as her mother darted out of the drawing room. The countess
headed through the open doors into the music room, where rows of chairs had
been placed facing a gleaming pianoforte. An arch of peach-colored camellias
framed the stage.

"Lady
Yardley! Dearest Baroness de Gagney! So delighted to see you!"

Helena
flushed with embarrassment as the Countess continued to call out greetings to
the occupants of the room. Despite the polite murmured replies, she saw the
raised brows and secret smirks behind the champagne flutes. She could
practically hear what they were thinking.
The Countess of Northgate, fit for
Bedlam
. She managed to secure her mother's arm.

"Mama,
we were to visit the garden," she said.

"Oh,
yes, let's," the countess enthused, her brown eyes wide and child-like.

Helena
began to steer the way, but was stopped by a silky voice.

"Is
that you, Aunt Amelia? And Cousin Helena?"

Resplendent
in peacock-blue satin, Caroline was standing but a few feet away, surrounded by
a ring of suitors. The gentlemen parted as Caroline glided forward.

"My
dear Caroline, but you do look stunning this evening!" Countess Northgate
exclaimed.

Helena
had to agree. Cut in the latest classical fashion, Caroline's gown gathered
under the bosom and fell in a soft, graceful column. The delicate puff sleeves
bared most of her shoulders, and the neckline was trimmed with tiny golden
tassels which shimmered with each movement. Indeed, Caroline looked like a princess,
with her hair in a coronet and a strand of diamonds woven into her auburn
locks.

"Wh-what
a lovely gown," Helena stammered, as her cousin kissed the air near her
cheek.  "I have never seen anything so beautiful."

"This
old thing?" Caroline laughed, showing her perfectly white, even teeth. "I
thought I would give it a final whirl before bestowing it upon my maid. If you
admire it so, I would be happy to give it to you instead, dearest cousin."

Helena
felt her ears burn. Had her compliment been too gauche? Awkwardly she added, "Oh,
that is not what I meant—"

"But,
then again, you do not need
my
advice when it comes to fashion. You do
set a style all your own. How very original to wear velvet this Season,"
Caroline said, with another light laugh.

Helena
felt the heat spread to her face. How she wished her new wardrobe from Madame
Rousseau's had arrived in time for this evening. But it had not, so she had
resigned herself to wearing one of her old dresses. The rose-colored velvet
was
heavy and rather shapeless. She had chosen it only because she thought it
showed her bosom to an advantage. Compared to the other ladies in the room, however,
she could see that her neckline appeared practically prudish.

The countess
plunged into the awkward silence. "Are those sapphires in your necklace,
Caroline? How very brilliantly they shine!"

"Why,
thank you, Aunt." Caroline's gloved fingers lovingly caressed the large,
sparkling stones at her bosom. "A gift from Papa. It is a lucky daughter
to have so generous a father, don't you agree, Helena?"

"Yes."
Her own father, as Caroline must know, had been sunk in debt these past years.

"Where
is Uncle tonight? I do so long to say hello," Caroline continued.

"Northgate
is here somewhere. The card room, likely," the countess responded
cheerfully. "The man loves his whist."

Helena
looked at her mother with incredulous eyes. Was she
mad
? Father was at
the cards again, and she was smiling about it? Did her mother not realize the
danger he was in? That they were all in? Something had to be done.
Immediately
.

"Excuse
me," Helena said quickly, "but I have been reminded of something I
need to speak with Father about."

"Of
course." Caroline's smile edged into a smirk. "Such a pleasure to see
you, Helena. We really should visit more often now that you are in Town, and we
are moving in similar circles."

Similar
, but not the same circles. Helena registered the
barb, but at this point she had more pressing concerns. Like preventing her
father from gambling away the family estate.

"Helena,
I think I will stay and chat with Caroline," her mother was saying.

"I
will take excellent care of her," Caroline said, still smirking.

Oh
no. She could
not
leave her mother in the den of wolves. But what was
she to do?

"Good
evening, ladies," a deep voice said from behind her.

Helena
turned to see Nicholas, breathtakingly masculine in his formal clothes. The cut
of his dinner jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders, whilst his trousers
skimmed down his narrow hips and muscular legs before tucking into gleaming
Hessians. He was bowing to them. When he raised his head, she caught his eye.
With an inward sigh of relief, she saw that he had evidently recovered from
their row. He did not appear angry. He was not smiling, of course, for it was
not his habit to do so. Yet his grey eyes were warm, his lips relaxed.

"Hello,
my lord," Helena said, a tad breathlessly.

Countess
Northgate beamed at her son-in-law."Harteford, you remember Lady Caroline
Dewitt, my sister's daughter, do you not?"

"Lord
Harteford and I met at the wedding breakfast," Caroline said. Curtsying
gracefully, she offered her hand. "But perhaps he does not remember me."

Helena
frowned at the silky, purring undertone of her cousin's voice.

Nicholas
bowed over Caroline's hand. "Of course I do, my lady."

Helena
felt a clutching sensation in her chest.
Calm yourself
.
He is just
being polite
. But her teeth clenched as Caroline proceeded to engage
Nicholas in witty repartee, artfully batting eyelashes all the while. Caroline
gave a silvery laugh, one that conveyed to the listener how interesting he was,
how manly and how intelligent. And Nicholas just stood there, like a great big
...
oaf
. Likely he was as besotted by Caroline's charms as all the other
men in the room.

By
the time Caroline gave Nicholas a playful tap with her fan, Helena had had
quite enough.

"Harteford,
where were you at supper?" The question came out more bluntly than she
intended, for all three heads turned to her.
Oh, well done
. Compared to
Caroline's tinkling, musical laughter, she sounded more like a shrew than ever.

"Wh-What
I mean to say is we missed your presence earlier," Helena said. "The
turtle supper was most delicious. I am sorry you missed it."

"Thank
you for your concern," Nicholas said in the silence that followed. "I
am afraid I got caught up."

"Our
Helena is such a mother hen, is she not?" Caroline gave that floaty laugh
again, her light jade eyes gleaming. "She is forever looking after others.
When we were girls, I recall Helena counting the tea cakes to make sure there
were enough to go around. Remember how you kept those cakes under a watchful
eye, Cousin?"

Helena's
cheeks flamed.

"Helena
was always partial to cream cakes," the countess agreed dreamily. "We
had to tell Cook to stop preparing them for fear of Helena growing too—"

"Mama,"
Helena blurted, "you were interested in the garden, were you not? Perhaps
Harteford would enjoy accompanying us on a stroll. I am sure Caroline must
ready herself for the performance."

"Yes,
we must see Cecily's famous ranunculus before the evening is done!" her
mother exclaimed. "There are none others like it in all of London."

Caroline's
smile was feline. "Please do enjoy yourselves. I will see you after the
performance, I hope?"

The
last part seemed directed at Nicholas. He bowed.

After
Caroline departed, the three made their way through the milling guests to the
ballroom. They exited through the open French doors into the garden. Scores of
lanterns lit the spacious, well-groomed green. A large stone fountain splashed
in the middle, and a gazebo rested in the furthest corner. They followed the
stepping stones, stopping here and there for the countess to admire the flower
specimens. As her mother raced forward to sniff a cluster of sweet peas, Helena
turned to her husband.