Lady Disguised (Tenacious Trents Novella) (Tenacous Trents) (6 page)

There was no hope for it. Hélène
would have to tell Jordan and Acker the truth. As much as she wished she could
invent a plausible lie, and was fairly certain Stanwick would go along with it,
what of Thorn and the other gentlemen who had been there? Carrington? What if
he spoke of the fencing match in the middle of Dagger’s? Of course, nobody knew
her name, but Jordan and Acker would know it was her as soon as they heard the
story.

This was such a mess. She should
have remained in bed, asleep, for a week.

“Hélène,” Jordan said in a tight
voice, his patience growing thin.

“I went to Dagger’s last evening
to gamble.”

 “Did you put her up to this?”
Stanwick leaned forward, glaring at Acker. “It was your voucher she produced at
the door.”

“You sent my sister to a gaming
hell?” Jordan asked in disbelief.

Acker threw up his hands. “I knew
nothing about it. Juliette and I were at my cousin’s last evening only to
return this morning.”

She placed the cup back in the
saucer she held on her lap, hoping the two would continue to argue.

“Hélène,” Trent warned again.

She sighed. “I did go to
Dagger’s.” She looked to Acker. “I won nearly one hundred pounds.” Then she
looked at Stanwick. “I assume it is still mine?”

“Of course.” 

Thank goodness. With the funds,
she could return to Milan and never have to answer to anyone again. She loathed
having to explain herself to these gentlemen.

Jordan frowned and his eyebrows
drew together. “I thought you didn’t allow women in your club.”

Stanwick’s face darkened and
Hélène wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. “I didn’t know she
was a woman until it was too late.”

“How the hell did you not know?”
Jordan demanded. 

Stanwick came to his feet and
faced Jordan. “She was dressed as a man.”

 Jordan narrowed his eyes. “You
couldn’t tell the difference?” he asked incredulously.

“If you have ever seen my sister
in costume, you would not need to ask the question,” Genviève announced as she
breezed into the room.

Hélène breathed a sigh of relief.
Thank goodness someone was here who would take her side.

All three gentlemen rose at
Genviève’s entrance. She glided across the room and settled in the seat Acker
had vacated. “I can see for myself that she is fine, though I would like to
hear more about this adventure.” Genviève grinned. “She was in no condition to
tell me last night when Stanwick returned her to the house.”

“That adventure, as you put it,
earned her seven stitches,” Jordan bit out.

Genviève blinked up at him. “I
know.”

Mad
! Stanwick thought. Both of them
are mad. Do they not appreciate the gravity of the situation? At least his
blade hadn’t killed Hélène.

Hélène leaned forward in an
attempt to place her cup back on the table but stopped. Her face tightened, and
pain shot through her narrowed eyes. She should not be out of bed. How had she
even managed to get down the stairs? “I believe Lady Hélène should return to
her chamber.”

She looked up and nodded. All
color was gone from her face.

Stanwick shifted and placed his
cup in the saucer.

“Perhaps it was a mistake to be
up so soon.” Hélène groaned.

Stanwick glanced to the injured
leg covered in lavender muslin gown; there were a few spots of fresh blood on
the side of her skirt. “Dr. Brune should be sent for to make sure you didn’t
tear any of the stitches open.”

“I am sure I did not,” she
insisted as she pushed to her feet, leaning heavily on the cane. Her jaw
clenched. The woman was in far more pain than she showed.

Stanwick took a step toward her
as Hélène swayed but steadied herself. “Then explain the blood on your skirt.”

Genviève gasped and Hélène looked
down. The few spots were quickly growing to what would likely be a large stain.
If possible, she grew even paler. Hélène looked up. Her crystal blue eyes at
first were filled with shock but were quickly going vacant. Stanwick surged
around the table, barely reaching Hélène in time before she collapsed.

“Go for the doctor,” he barked as
he scooped Hélène into his arms and marched out of the room.  If he had waited
for Trent or Acker to reach her, she was fallen and likely struck her head
against the table and he wasn’t about to relinquish her to them now.

Taking the stairs two at a time,
he climbed to the next floor and carried her to the room he had deposited her
in the night before. This time he didn’t wait for a maid to see to her comfort
but drew the lavender material up to her thigh to inspect the wound.

The once-white bandage was soaked
with blood. He pulled out his dagger and cut through the cloth until he could
see her wound and almost recoiled at the sight. Good God, he had done this to
her.

Two stitches had been torn from
her delicate skin and though the slice to her leg had been smooth and even, the
punctures from the needle on either side of the cut were swollen and red. 
Blood seeped from the area that had once been closed. She had to have been in a
good deal of pain even before she tried to stand.

“You are more familiar with my
sister than I realized, if you are comfortable taking such liberties with her
person.”

 “I hadn’t seen her wound until
now.” Stanwick didn’t want to have a confrontation with Trent. He knew his
actions were inappropriate but he had to see the damage for himself. “When I
brought her here early this morning, I left her in the care of Miss Genviève.”
What if she had developed an infection?

Trent didn’t say anything, but shifted
closer to the bed.

“I did this to her,” Stanwick
finally said quietly, a weight settling heavy upon him. 

A hand settled on his shoulder.
“I’m still not sure what happened, but I know you well enough to know it was
not intentional.”

The circumstances no longer
mattered because he had done the one thing he swore he would never do. He had
injured and scarred a woman.

It had been three days since he
carried Hélène up to her room but the image of her bleeding and inflamed wound
was still fresh in his mind. Jordan had pulled him from the chamber and down to
the sitting room where the others waited. It was there he had told them
everything that had occurred the night before. After Thorn confirmed the events
as he knew them, the man was sent away with a warning not to breathe a word
about what happened or what he accidentally learned about the sister’s
relationship to the Trents.

Stanwick and Jordan remained only
long enough for Dr. Brune to repair the torn stitches and deliver orders that
Hélène was not to leave her bed or even attempt to walk for a few days.

Stanwick stared at the purse
sitting in the center of his desk. It held Hélène’s one hundred pounds. He
still didn’t know what had possessed her to come to his club the other evening.
Her words still rang in his mind.
“I needed the money.”
Why? Her sister
was married to Acker and there was a connection to the Trents. Both families
were bloody rich. Surely someone could provide her with everything she needed. 

Since leaving her home, Hélène
was almost always on his mind: during the day while he worked on the books for
his club, in the evening while he was keeping an eye on the gamblers, and even
when he dreamed. He woke often in the early morning hours, eaten with guilt by
what he had done and equally attracted to the young woman he knew so little
about. He longed to visit her to see how she fared, but he forced himself to
remain at his club or in his bachelor quarters.  Hélène Mirabelle had a strange
effect on his emotions, and it was best to avoid her until he could determine
if he was still angry or simply wanted her.  

“You don’t look like you have
rested much.”

Stanwick glanced up to find Trent
leaning against the frame of the door to his office.

He sighed and settled back in his
chair as he motioned for Trent to come in. “How is Miss Hélène?”

Trent took a seat in wooden chair
on the opposite side of the desk. “Unpleasant.”

Stanwick cringed. Who would be
pleasant in her situation? The pain probably had her out of sorts. “Dr. Brune
did leave laudanum, didn’t he?”

Trent’s eyebrows rose. “It isn’t
the pain. Hélène is going mad from being confined.”

Mad
! There was that word again. He
needed to remind himself she
was
mad or she wouldn’t be in this
situation. A woman with her fencing skills could fillet a husband before he
knew what was happening.

“She finally convinced Acker to
carry her down to the library because she couldn’t stand to be in her chamber
any longer.” He thrust his fingers through his hair. “At least it is Acker and
Julia who are responsible for her and have taken up residence in the house
until she can travel.”

“Julia?”

Trent sighed. “That is why I am
here. It is about what you heard, about Hélène, Juliette, and Genviève.”

Stanwick reached behind him and
grabbed the bottle of brandy and two glasses. This was one story he wished to
hear.

“You cannot repeat what I am
about tell you.”

Stanwick nodded. “Of course.” 

As Stanwick poured one glass and
set it at the front of the desk, Trent rose and closed the door to his office.

He poured his own as Trent
settled back in his seat. “Do you remember that my father’s second wife, Adele,
and her daughter, Julia, were killed when their carriage went over the side of
a bridge?”

Stanwick nodded. He had been a
boy when it happened but everyone knew the story.

“We learned last year that they,
in fact, didn’t die. Instead, Father sent them to Paris to live, insisted they
change their surname, and then let the world believe they’d died.”

“Juliette is Julia?” Stanwick
wished to clarify.

Trent nodded. “Adele was also
increasing, and approximately five months after leaving England she gave birth
to twin girls in Paris.”

“Hélène and Genviève?”

Again Trent nodded. “Adele
remained hidden and eventually took the girls and moved to Milan. Julia was
eighteen and the twins were fifteen.”

“Why did she return, or did you
look for her?”

Trent sighed and took a drink
before continuing. “When Father died, Adele thought it safe to finally return
to England. Upon arriving, she learned that Father had married a third time and
had another daughter.”

Stanwick leaned back in his chair
and took a drink. The warmth spread into his belly. 

“Because my youngest sister
wasn’t married, Adele took her daughters on a tour of England and Scotland.”

“Adele was protecting your
step-mother and her daughter?” Stanwick straightened. “If your father married
the current dowager while his wife was still alive, that marriage is not legal
because I am assuming there was never a divorce.”

“I am sure Father assumed he
could do as he wished, though I don’t know what explanation he thought he could
offer if Adele would have returned earlier.”

“Which brings in the question of
your youngest sister’s birth—.”

“—Being on the wrong side of the
blanket,” Trent confirmed. “Adele only returned to London with her daughters
when their funds ran out. That’s when we discovered Julia was alive and learned
we had two additional sisters.”

Stanwick sat forward. “How did
you manage to keep something like this from the
ton
?”

“It hasn’t been easy.” Jordan
sighed and took another drink.

“How does Bentley plan to
introduce Hélène in the spring? Is he going to claim the ladies are cousins?”

“He is going to tell the truth.”
Trent shrugged. “Someone would learn eventually, and it is better to face it
head on.”

Trent relaxed and took another
sip of his drink. “None of this is your fault, Stanwick.” He placed the glass
on the desk. “I know you’ll carry the guilt, but Hélène brought this on
herself.”

“I’ve told myself the same things
a dozen times, but I still feel responsible.”

“In time, perhaps you’ll let it
go.” Trent walked to the door and opened it. “And might I suggest you visit her
soon?”

Stanwick hitched a brow in
question.

“She was going on this morning
about her winnings. If you don’t deliver them soon, this will be the first
place she visits as soon as she can walk further than across the room.”

Hélène glanced around the
library. At one time this had been her favorite room, with the dark cherry
wood, cream walls, and soft rose upholstery. Now it was closing in on her. At least
she was now allowed to move about with the use of a cane, but she couldn’t go
very far. Stairs were her downfall, so once she was on one floor she needed to
remain there. She couldn’t keep bothering someone to carry her from one floor
to the other every hour.   

The footmen had moved the settee
so that she could reach books on the shelves and still be able to look out the
window. But neither the books nor those going about their business on the
street below held her interest. 

Hélène sighed and let her head
fall back. What she needed to do was plan her escape. Not from this house, but
England. If all went well, in a month she would be sailing for Milan. If she
was frugal with her money, she should be able to live quite well until she was
working again. 

“Pardon me, Miss Hélène,” a
footman said, interrupting her thoughts. “You have a visitor.”

Hélène immediately cheered. It
must be one of her sisters-in-law. 

“Mr. Sebastain Stanwick.”

Her breath caught. Why was
he
here? Was he bringing her winnings? He said they were still hers. “Please, show
him in.”

Hélène carefully turned and
placed her feet on the floor. It wouldn’t do for him to find her lounging on
the settee, even if it was the most comfortable position for her leg. 

He entered a few moments later,
and Hélène’s pulse increased at the sight of him. Few men, if any, were as
handsome as Mr. Stanwick. Today he was put to rights with his hair brushed and
jaw clean-shaven. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been disheveled. Hélène
was torn over which appearance she preferred. There was something wicked about
him being in a state of near undress with mussed hair that warmed her to the
core, though seeing him turned out neatly was pleasant as well.

“Good afternoon, Lady Hélène.” He
bowed before her. “I trust that you are feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” She gestured
towards a chair so he could sit. Stanwick chose the one closest to the settee.
He was so close she could smell the citrus scent of his shaving soap. 
Goodness, why hadn’t he chosen a chair on the other side of the table? He was
much too close in proximity to her even if it was perfectly proper.

Hélène looked back at the young
footman waiting in the doorway. “Please bring tea and cakes.”

When the footman left the room,
she turned more fully towards him. “Did you bring my winnings?” 

Stanwick simply stared at her.

“You did say they were still
mine?” Her breath hitched and stomach tightened, but this time it had nothing
to do with how handsome Stanwick was but with sheer panic that he may have changed
his mind. “I did not misunderstand?”

“I am simply holding on to them
for the time being.”

“What? Why?”

“I would like some answers
first.”

She opened her mouth to question
him when the footman entered with the tea service. That was certainly quick, but
given the hour, cook probably had the tray already prepared. Hélène
straightened and waited for the young man to place it in the middle of the
table and leave. As she leaned forward to pour, Stanwick did as well. Their
fingers brushed, and hers came alive with a current she’d never before
experienced. Hélène yanked her hand back as if she had been burned, yet the
tingling remained. Stanwick simply grasped the handle and lifted. Had she been
the only one to be affected by the touch?   

“I’ll be happy to pour since the
last time you attempted it you pulled a few stitches.”

While she was perfectly capable
of leaning forward now, Hélène simply nodded, a bit bewildered by the warmth
and tingling that shot through her at the mere brush of his fingers.  Had the
injury to her leg affected more of her person than she realized?

He shifted and handed the teacup
and saucer to her. Hélène was very careful not to touch him when accepting for
fear the same sensation would happen again and she would end up spilling tea into
her lap. 

Stanwick prepared a cup for
himself but set it aside. His eyes were intense as he studied her.