Authors: Kate Pearce
"Do you know what they were arguing about?"
Marguerite buried her face in the handkerchief. "About me. Harry seemed to believe Justin was spending too much time with me and not enough engaged in more manly pursuits."
"But you had just gotten married. Of course his focus should be on you."
"That's what Justin said when I questioned him about Harry's sudden departure. He told me not to worry and that Harry would be back. But he didn't come back, and Justin decided we should come to London to find him and demand an explanation." Marguerite sighed. "So we came here, and two nights ago Justin went to his club to meet with Harry, and he didn't come home to me. Yesterday morning, a man I'd never met before banged on my door to tell me that Justin had been killed in a duel by his best friend." She shook her head. "I didn't want to believe him, and I insisted he take me to see Justin's body."
Helene came down on her knees and wrapped her arms around Marguerite's hunched form and gently rocked her.
"It's all right, my darling. It's all right."
"No, it isn't, Maman, because the man was right—Justin is dead." She choked back a sob.
"And the worst thing was that they didn't bring him back to me but to his family home.
His parents had already decided that I was an unsuitable match for their son, and now they refuse to let me see him."
Helene closed her eyes and hugged Marguerite even tighter. "If you want to see him, I will arrange it; have no fear of that. I will also make sure that the Lockwood family treats you with the respect you deserve."
"They probably blame me for his death."
Helene held Marguerite by the shoulders, away from her. "Non, he chose to fight a duel.
You had nothing to do with it."
"But if he hadn't married me, Harry wouldn't have fought with him."
"Sir Harry would've been jealous of anyone Justin married. Surely you realized that?"
Marguerite stared at her, a blush rising on her cheeks. "I'm not sure what you mean."
Helene studied her daughter's distraught expression and realized she was not willing to further disturb Marguerite's peace by adding a whole new layer of potential sexual duplicity to the tragedy.
She patted Marguerite's shoulders and stood up. "Never mind, my dear. Just remember that you are not to blame. I'll ask Viscount Harcourt-DeVere if he can arrange for you to see Justin's body and to deal with any other matters arising from the funeral and your husband's estate."
Marguerite stared up at her. "How can you think about such practical matters when my heart is breaking?"
"Because somebody has to." Helene started to pick up Marguerite's clothes and other luggage and stuff them into one of the empty trunks. "Do you want to take Justin's things or leave them here?"
"Sometimes, Martian, I think that Christian is right and that your heart really is made of stone."
Helene dropped the pair of boots she was holding into the trunk. "Marguerite, if you wish me to sit and cry with you, I will, but I'd far rather have you safely packed up and at home with me before we did it."
Marguerite got to her feet, still wiping at the tears that streamed down her cheeks. "I will come with you, then." She glanced around the hotel room. "There is nothing left for me here anyway."
Helene continued to pack as Marguerite managed to put on her bonnet, cloak, and boots.
She rang for a maid and gave orders for the bags to be carried out to a hackney cab.
While she waited, she did her best to console Marguerite, who seemed incapable of responding.
Helene sighed. Why was she always at fault for being practical in a time of crisis ? If everyone simply sat down and cried, nothing would ever get done. Emotional outbursts were a luxury she had never been able to afford.
When the cab arrived, she helped a weeping Marguerite inside and took her home.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Helene guided Marguerite down the basement steps and into the kitchen. She wasn't surprised to find the twins and Mrs. Smith-Porterhouse there. Despite her best efforts to keep them occupied, the twins seemed to gravitate back toward her house at every opportunity.
"Marguerite, is that you?" Lisette shot to her feet and hurried around the table, swiftly followed by Christian.
Helene stepped back to allow the twins to hug their sister. Marguerite started sobbing again, and Lisette hugged her hard. Helene wondered bleakly if she was even necessary to Marguerite's comfort now since her siblings were there. Watching them together made her feel like an outsider again.
"Maman?"
Helene pasted on a smile as Marguerite turned to her.
*Oui?"
"Can I go and rest for a while?"
"Of course, my dear. I'll take you up myself."
"There is no need, Maman," Lisette said, her arm around her older sister's shoulders.
"Marguerite can share my room."
"If that is what you want, Marguerite." Helene nodded at her daughters. "Perhaps you will come and see me in my study when you feel better."
Marguerite reached out to squeeze her hand. "Thank you for coming for me."
Helene shrugged. "I am your mother. What else would I do?"
Lisette led Marguerite toward the stairs, chattering all the time. Christian loitered at the door and then cleared his throat. Startled, Helene looked up.
"Thank you."
She tried to smile. "For what?"
"For finding Marguerite. I. . . didn't think you would."
Helene fought a sudden urge to cry. "I didn't do anything; Marguerite found me. Now, if you will excuse me."
Christian didn't move. "Maman ... is it true, what Mr. Ross said?"
"As I have no idea what he said, I can scarcely answer you."
"About the Bastille ... about your family."
Helene briefly closed her eyes. She didn't want to have this discussion now, so close to finding out about Marguerite's appalling tragedy.
"He told you the truth. Now, I really have to get back to work. There are many arrangements that need to be made on your sister's behalf."
Christian stepped back, his face as suddenly shuttered as hers. "If I have distressed you, I apologize."
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "No, you haven't. It all happened a long time ago, and I rarely think about it."
She prayed he wouldn't see through that lie, hoped he'd never realize that despite her best efforts, she'd allowed those events to dictate and distort her entire life.
Christian gave her an awkward smile. "I'll go and see Marguerite, then."
Helene nodded, unable to speak, and watched him leave. When the door swung shut, she followed Philip's example and found her way to a dark corner of the wine cellar. At least here she could let down her guard and sob to her heart's content. That had always been her way. Survive the crisis and then fall apart discreetly in private.
She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and blew her nose. At least Marguerite was safe. Helene would do everything in her power to make sure her daughter received her dues as a widow. She didn't care what the Lockwood family said. That was one way she could ensure that Marguerite never wanted for anything again.
And Christian had spoken to her voluntarily. He'd even thanked her for helping Marguerite. Perhaps she ought to be thanking Philip instead. Whatever he had said to Christian had obviously affected him. It seemed Philip was a better parent than she after all.
God, everything was such a mess. She was tired of having to present a calm exterior to the world when inside she felt like crying. The temptation to lean on Philip beckoned, but it still scared her. Did she have the courage to trust him?
With a sigh, Helene stood up. Her moment of weakness was over, and she now had to move on. Her business wouldn't run itself, and in a matter of hours, she needed to become the sparkling, slightly wicked hostess the ton expected to see at her salons.
It was going to be hard to pretend she was a scintillating woman tonight when all she wanted was to stay with Marguerite and simply be a mother. She climbed back up the stairs and found her way to her study. Someone had lit a fire in the grate, and a pile of letters sat on her desk.
A note in Philip's now familiar handwriting caught her eye, and she frowned. He was supposed to be at the pleasure house. Where had he been when all the family drama was taking place?
She scanned the note. Urgent business with his solicitor? Considering the hours he worked, she supposed it was difficult for him to see the man without inviting him to the pleasure house, and she could see that would never do.
Philip had better be back soon, though, or their agreement would definitely be over.
Helene stared at the stack of unopened letters. There was nothing else for her to do but get on with the day's business, start helping Marguerite, and hope that Philip Ross didn't abuse her trust.
"Good evening, my dear."
Helene looked up to find George, attired in his evening clothes, smiling down at her.
"George, what time is it?"
He took out his pocket watch. "It's almost seven. Aren't you dressing for dinner tonight?"
Helene took off her spectacles and rubbed at her eyes. "I can't believe it is so late. I had a lot to catch up on today. Have you seen Philip?"
"Ross? Yes, he was in the kitchen when I passed by, chatting to Judd. Do you want me to get him for you?"
"No, I'd rather talk to you, George. It seems ages since we had the chance to chat."
"What a nice thing to say." George grinned and sat down.
Helene studied him carefully, realized she had the perfect opportunity to disabuse him of a few of his more outlandish ideas.
"How are your wife and Amanda?"
His smile faded. "They are both well. Why do you ask?"
"Because I heard a rumor that your wife had gotten rid of her lover and that you were reconciled."
"Who told you that?"
Helene smiled airily. "Oh, you know how it is; people tell me things all the time. I rarely believe them."
"Then don't believe that nonsense. It's true that my wife has discarded her lover, but it hasn't changed things between us at all."
"That's a shame, George. I'd like you to be happy."
He stared at her. "You know what would make me happy. Marry me."
"You know that is not going to happen. You are one of my oldest friends. I made a rule even before I met you that I wouldn't go to bed with men I liked."
He got up and started pacing the carpet, all the good humor leached from his face. "You seem to like Philip Ross well enough and yet you let him fuck you."
"That is a completely different situation. And it is also none of your business."
George swung around. "Did you know he likes to fuck men?
"I know that my clients' sexual tastes are their business. I'm not here to judge anyone."
Although she kept her tone light, her mind was working furiously. How had George known what Philip had been up to in the pleasure house both with her and with Adam?
He'd either been snooping or reading her private files; neither action spoke of a rational man.
"Philip Ross isn't a client, though, is he?"
Helene got up and walked across to the fireplace as if to warm her hands. When George started pacing again, she took the opportunity to ring the servant's bell when his back was turned.
"Philip owns the same amount of shares as you. I consider him to be as much a member of the club as you are."
George shoved his hand through his hair. "If we are the same, why don't you fuck me?"
"George, you are married! I don't sleep with married men. You know that."
"But again you make an exception for Ross. He said he's known you for years, so you must have had him when he was married."
"I met him just before he was married and didn't see him again until a few weeks ago when he turned up here with Gideon Harcourt."
George stared at her, an arrested expression on his face. "Exactly how long have you known him?"
"That is none of your business." The faint sounds of footsteps outside in the hallway bolstered her courage. "All I wish you to understand, George, is that I will never marry you."
"You will after my divorce comes through."
"What divorce?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Didn't I tell you? I'm going to divorce my wife for adultery.
When I'm free, we can marry."
Helene shook her head. "But I don't want to marry you."
He halted in front of her, an indulgent smile on his face. "Don't be silly, my dear. Of course you do."
Helene opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again as someone knocked on the door. After a wary glance at George, she said, "Come in."
Philip poked his head around the door. "Are you ready for some visitors?" His smile dimmed when he saw George. "Or perhaps I should tell them to come back later."
"No, please come in. George and I have finished our discussion anyway."
George bowed and kissed her hand. "We haven't quite finished, but I understand you have a lot to think about, my dear."
Helene glanced at Philip, whose expression had chilled as he observed George. He opened the door wide, and Marguerite and the twins came in. To Helene's relief, Marguerite looked slightly more composed, although there were dark circles under her eyes, and her lips were bitten raw.
"Maman, I just wanted to tell you I've decided to have dinner with the twins and Mrs.
Smith-Porterhouse and then go to bed. Can our business wait until the morning?"
"Of course, my dear." Helene smiled encouragingly at her daughter. "I've already sent a message to Viscount Harcourt-DeVere, who is willing to help us deal with the Lockwood family. We can talk about what you want to do tomorrow and make our decisions from there."
Helene noticed that Marguerite was studying George with great interest. "I apologize, Marguerite. You haven't met Lord George Grant before, have you? Lord George, may I introduce my eldest daughter, Lady Justin Lockwood."
Even though Marguerite winced at the title, she curtsied and nodded at George.
"Actually, Maman, we have met, although I don't recognize that name." She smiled at George. "He visited the nunnery just before I left. I thought he was looking for a school to place his children."