Loving Helen

A companion novel to
Saving Grace

A Hearthfire Romance

Copyright © 2015 Michele Paige Holmes

E-book edition

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles. These novels are works of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialog are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Interior Design by Heather Justesen

Edited by Annette Lyon, Cassidy Wadsworth, and Kelsey Down

Cover design by Rachael Anderson

Cover Photo Credit: Andreea Retinschi/Trigger Image

Cover Photo Copyright: Andreea Retinschi

Published by Mirror Press, LLC

eISBN-10: 1941145388

eISBN-13: 978-1-941145-38-8

Counting Stars

All the Stars in Heaven

My Lucky Stars

Captive Heart

A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection

Hearthfire Romance Series:

Saving Grace

Marrying Christopher

To Mom—

For all those times you let me keep reading instead of doing my chores.

And for your encouragement and faith that helped me believe I could do anything.

Helen Thatcher gathered the voluminous skirts of her silk gown as she tiptoed across the small foyer. Stopping outside the double doors that led to the sitting room of Mr. Preston’s guesthouse, she peered through the crack between the doors and spied her lady’s maid, Miranda, busily folding linens at the table. Just as this room filled so many purposes — they visited, dined, read, and sewed here — her maid had taken to doing many tasks outside her usual duties as well. Helen wished it was otherwise, though it did seem that both her servants, Miranda and Harrison, were happier here than they had been since her guardian and grandfather, the late Duke of Salisbury, had died, shortly after which the new duke had summarily dismissed them from his residence.

We might all have stayed and continued on in comfort.
The guilty thought plagued Helen, as it had every day the past several months. Had she only accepted the new duke’s marriage proposal, she and her siblings, Grace and Christopher, along with their servants, would still be at the grand estate, with everything they needed — everything they desired — at their disposal.

Yet because
I
did not desire marriage, we’ve become little more than penniless outcasts
.

It had been more than a simple lack of desire that had spurred her refusal — a rejection that the new duke had neither expected nor accepted. At their first acquaintance, it had become apparent that he was a man used to getting what he wanted. And along with her grandfather’s vast estate and wealth and title, the duke had wanted Helen as his wife. He had told her it would be so, rather than asking, much as he told Grandfather’s servants what they were to do and how they were to do it, then disciplined them harshly when they deviated in the least — often simply because they were used to different ways. Helen had seen him throw a pitcher of just-boiled water at one of the maids and kick a young stable boy and had made up her mind that she could not bear to be the duke’s wife. Returning to their estranged father was the lesser of the two evils, for evil was what she believed Grandfather’s heir to be. Grace and Christopher had supported her decision, and they had returned to their father’s home — and a new set of troubles.

After six years away it had been difficult to live again with their father, whose only ambition had been spent in marrying a duke’s daughter — an act that never yielded the fortune or life of ease he had hoped for. They discovered him to be in more debt than ever. In his children he had devised a means of income, intending to marry his daughters off to the highest bidder.

A situation gone from bad to worse.
Helen suppressed a shudder as she recalled the events of the last few months.
I am safe now,
she reminded herself. Yet it might not always be so. It would not be so now, if not for Grace’s unselfish sacrifice.

Because of my cowardice in refusing to marry Grandfather’s heir,
Grace has endured much
.
After offering to take Helen’s place and be married, Grace had been forced to meet with suitors of their father’s choosing, each of whom proved to be wretched, lecherous men. That is, until the last, Mr. Samuel Preston, had surprised Grace with genuine friendship and a concern extending beyond her welfare to that of her siblings.

Helen’s mouth curved in a smile as she thought of Mr. Preston — so gentle and kind to them all. She had never met a man quite like him. It seemed terribly unfair that Grace had met him last and not first. But by the time of their meeting, Grace had already taken drastic action, making certain her reputation was ruined by spreading the tale of a most unfortunate middle-of-the-night mix-up in the bed chamber of Lord Nicholas Sutherland, Mr. Preston’s closest neighbor, former brother-in-law, and sworn enemy.

From what Helen had learned of him, Lord Sutherland did not appear to be much better than some of the other men whose company Grace had suffered,
and now she is betrothed to him.

But even amidst the worst of circumstances, Grace worries about us
. And so Mr. Preston had arranged for the four of them — Christopher and Helen, and their servants, Miranda and Harrison — to reside at his guest house until the matter of their inheritance could be favorably settled or until Grace was suitably wed.

Would that I had a shred of her courage or selflessness
, Helen thought, frustrated with herself yet again. She smoothed the front of her gown, knowing that what she was about to undertake would require at least one of those valiant qualities. She desperately hoped she possessed courage somewhere.

As for selflessness, the plan she’d conceived seemed rather the opposite.

But what else am I to do?

Grace’s betrothal to Lord Sutherland had begun badly, and perhaps it yet might end the same, terminating what little protection it had bought them for the time being. The new duke seemed determined to see that they did not get a penny of their inheritance, while debt collectors banged down her father’s door.

It is only a matter of time before Father thrusts me out to meet them. I will be forced to marry
. Marriage was the very last thing she wished.
But if I am to be forced to it …
At least there was now one option that might be bearable.

Grasping the doors, Helen pulled them open and stepped inside the drawing room. “Good morning.”

Miranda did not look up from folding the linens, and Helen realized she’d spoken too softly. Christopher was forever chiding her about whispering, but it wasn’t something she did intentionally. After so many years spent avoiding Father and the vile men he associated with, whispering was simply something that came naturally. If she’d acquired any talent at all in her eighteen years, it was knowing how to keep quiet and remain unseen.

But now, she was about to attempt the very opposite.

She cleared her throat and tried once more. “Good morning, Miranda.”

“Miss Helen?” Miranda glanced up from her task, then straightened to her full height, her spine as rigid as her rules of etiquette. “What are you doing up already — and dressed without my help?” Her lips turned down in disapproval. “And suddenly out of mourning, I see.”

“I mean no disrespect to Grandfather. Please don’t scold,” Helen said, guessing the direction of Miranda’s thoughts. The poor woman had faced an arduous task from the beginning, taking two girls used to a life of poverty and struggle and turning them into ladies. With Grace, it seemed, she’d nearly had success. Only Father’s debts had forced Grace back to her independent, rash ways of survival.

“You’ve been working so hard lately,” Helen said. “I wanted to save you some time.” A partial truth, but Miranda need not know that. “What do you think?” Helen held out the sides of the cream gown and turned a slow circle. “I know it is a drastic change from black, but this
was
a gift from Grandfather. Did I do all right?”

“That depends,” Miranda said, hands on her hips, “on whether you are planning to attend a breakfast or a midnight ball.”

Helen’s fragile confidence slipped a notch. It had taken quite a lot of maneuvering to get herself into this dress with only the chambermaid to assist. And she’d spent over an hour with the curling tongs and burned a few fingertips to achieve the ringlets in her hair. Still, she’d felt pleased with the reflection staring back at her in the glass. But Miranda’s obvious disapproval weighed heavily.

“I know this gown is a bit fancy for breakfast,” Helen said. “But I so seldom go anywhere that I thought it would be all right to wear it.” The gown had been one of the last gifts Grandfather had given her before his passing. Grace owned a similar one and had worn it to Mr. Preston’s, though that occasion
had
been a ball.

Miranda let out an exasperated sigh. “It is not breakfast attire, but I suppose this one time won’t hurt. At least let me put your hair up properly.” She started toward Helen.

“I — I wish to wear it down.” Beneath the dress, Helen’s heart pounded. She’d never disagreed with Miranda before, had never done other than what her maid told her was proper and fitting.

Miranda’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

“My hair took a great deal of time,” Helen said. “And — I think it looks pretty this way.” She did not mention the information she’d gleaned from Grace’s letters — that Lord Sutherland had ordered her to wear her hair
up
, though Grace secretly believed that he might admire it on the occasions she left it down. If so, Helen hoped that keeping her hair down as well might capture the attention of a certain gentleman. She needed to use every resource available to her, limited as they were.