Wedded in Scandal (27 page)

Robert turned, his eyes widening at the impact of her words. She spoke so casually, as if all of this were obvious. Perhaps it was to her. But to him, the statement that his
mother loved him reached deep inside. It touched a well of misery he hadn’t even realized was there. Not until her words healed them.

His mother loved him. Despite the way she shut herself away from him, despite the whimpers and misery whenever she stepped outside of her bedroom door. Despite it all, she loved him. He tugged the words close to his heart and held them there like a precious toy. And when he feared he would unman himself by crying in front of her, he reached for the bottle of brandy that Dribbs had so conveniently left on the sideboard. He crossed to it and poured a glass with a shaking hand. When the globe was filled, he lifted it up but didn’t drink.

His mother loved him. When Helaine said it, he believed it. And the knowledge was pure joy.

Eventually he found his voice, though he had to push the words through a thick throat. “If dresses and Edward’s women are what she needs, then they shall have the run of the house.”

“Well, I shouldn’t go overboard with that, if I were you. Perhaps every other day or every third.”

He turned back to her, finding he could smile now without losing his dignity. “Whatever you think best. I shall tell Dribbs to open and close the door solely upon your decision.”

Her brows shot up at that. “At the direction of a dressmaker? Surely you jest.”

“Surely I don’t.” He swirled the brandy about in his glass. He looked at the dark liquid, smelled the aroma of the rich brew, but his mind was on her. Helaine. Eventually he looked at her and asked the two questions that had been in his mind from the moment he’d seen her. “Why are you here, Helaine? And how can I make you stay?”

She smiled and stepped closer. He was within a breath of taking her into his arms when she lifted the glass out of his hands. Then she was walking away with it, sipping the brew as cheekily as if he had offered it to her. And he should have, he realized. He just hadn’t thought she would drink brandy.

Meanwhile she settled onto the settee, kicked off her slippers, and curled her feet up behind her. He had to blink
at the sight. How many times had he seen Gwen do just the same thing? And yet, the idea of Gwen and Helaine in the same thought, the same breath, as the same two mature women made him distinctly uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat by way of ordering his thoughts. Then he gestured to the bar behind him. “Would you care for something else?”

She shook her head. “Brandy was my father’s love. I grew up stealing sips from his glass.”

“Ah. Then please enjoy as much as you like.”

“Just a sip,” she said, taking just one before setting the glass aside. “I do not care for how a whole glass makes me feel.”

“Out of control?” he guessed.

She nodded, watching him carefully as he crossed to sit beside her. They were not touching. Indeed, he sat as far away from her as he could possibly manage and still be on the settee. But he angled his face and his body to her. He did not want anything to interfere with his sight of her and these precious moments of accord.

“Helaine—”

“I am here because you asked Edward to ask Gwen to install me in the house so that I could design everyone’s gowns for the Season.”

Ah, yes. He had done that, hadn’t he? One of his best ideas ever.

“I only agreed to come because Gwen promised me that you were not at home.”

“I wasn’t then.”

“Yes, I’d noticed you’d returned.”

“I always knew you were a perceptive woman.”

She snorted, but her eyes crinkled at the corners when she did it. If he looked closely, he might say she was smiling. Then he said something that startled even himself.

“I will leave if you wish it. I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”

She sighed and looked at her hands. “I am a dressmaker, my lord. I would not dream of ousting a viscount from his home.”

He had the strongest urge to tap her chin, to stroke her cheek, to do anything to bring her gaze back to his. But he knew that doing such a thing would make her bolt. So he stayed exactly where he was and prayed his words would do what his body could not. “Even so, Helaine. I will leave if you wish it.”

She didn’t answer for a long moment, and he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response. In the end, she shook her head. “I think in a house this size, we can manage to stay out of each other’s way.”

He didn’t want to stay out of her way, but he didn’t argue. “Thank you, Helaine,” he finally said.

“For letting you stay in your own home?”

“For giving me a second chance.”

Her eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “I said nothing about a second chance, my lord.”

“A second chance to do this,” he said, gesturing to the two of them sitting companionably on a settee. “A second chance to be friends.”

Her mouth slipped open as if she wanted to say something but then found no words. She simply stared at him, and no wonder. Him? Friends with a dressmaker? The idea was ludicrous, and yet he desperately wanted it to be true. And truthfully, the idea was not so far-fetched, he realized. He was friends with Chandelle, wasn’t he? A madame at a former house of prostitution. Why could he not be friends with a dressmaker as well? Especially one who was insightful regarding his family, smart about business, and beautiful enough to make him ache with longing.

“Is it possible, Helaine? Could you trust me enough to be friends?”

She nodded slowly, her words coming out even more reluctantly. “Yes, my lord, I believe it is possible. Not probable, but definitely possible.”

He would take that as a boon and be grateful. “Then you must swear to call me Robert.”

“You know I cannot do that!”

“When we are alone, Helaine. Only when we are alone.”

She ducked her head, but a moment later she was looking back at him. “Very well, Robert. But only on the very unlikely occasions when we are alone together.”

He grinned. “Excellent! Now—”

“Now I shall be going to bed, Robert.” She straightened her legs and bent slightly to put on her slippers. He entertained himself by looking boldly at her trim ankles as he scrambled for a way to entice her to stay.

“Of course you should go rest. I’ll wager it has been a very long day for you.”

“Yes, it most certainly has.”

“Too bad, too, because I very much wanted to tell you about what happened at the mine. That’s where I was, you know. This whole long, exhausting, frustrating week. I was at the mine working hand in dirty hand with Charlie.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Would you like to hear what happened?”

She did. He could see it in her eyes and the way she bit her lip in consternation. “Did you have trouble with more vandals?”

“We did.”

“But you think it settled now?”

He shrugged. “As to that, who can tell? But you were going up to bed, and I shouldn’t ask you to tarry.”

She hovered, both feet on the ground and her hands poised to help her stand. But she didn’t move.

“Or you could stay up with me for a few moments longer. Just until I finish my brandy. I have ridden a very long way, you know. I’m quite tired as well. So it will just be the one brandy.” He took a healthy sip just to prove that it wouldn’t take him long at all.

She chuckled, knowing exactly what he was doing but caught nonetheless. “Very well,” she said as she leaned back against the couch. “Just for a little bit. Tell me what happened with the vandals.”

So he did. And he told her what changes he’d implemented, what course Charlie recommended, and what he thought about it. And he asked her opinion. And he made his brandy last for more than three hours.

Helaine suppressed a yawn and nearly fell down the
back staircase as she did so. Lord, why had she stayed up so late talking with Robert? Why hadn’t she remembered that she was
not
a lady of leisure anymore? She could not sleep until noon. In fact, if she wanted breakfast, she needed to be in the servants’ hall in time to be fed. And that was over an hour ago.

But that was the whole problem when she was with Robert. She forgot who she was, even who she’d been. She was simply Helaine sitting and talking with Robert and it was
wonderful
. This morning, however, was horrible. She was so bleary-eyed she doubted she could draw a straight line, much less sketch gowns for Lady Gwen’s approval.

Perhaps a bun would help. Cook kept a few handy for those who had tasks during the morning meal. She stepped into the kitchen and reached for the stack, only to be stopped cold.

“Mrs. Mortimer!” cried the tall, hook-nosed woman. She was the cook and was brilliant at the task. But she also had a way of glaring at a person just like a hawk eyeing a scurrying mouse.

“Er, yes?”

“Dribbs has asked to see you. Right away.”

Helaine nodded as she tried again to reach for a bun. “Of course, of course. I’ll see him directly after—”

Cook slapped her hand away. “You’ll see him
now
.”

“Er, yes. Right away.” Helaine slunk away. She’d known that the household kept a strict schedule. No laze-abouts tolerated. Anyone who slept past morning meal would go hungry. She’d known it, and so she wasn’t very surprised at her rebuff. She would just have to befriend one of the maids so that she could be woken in time tomorrow. And there would be no more late-night discussions with his lordship.

She pushed through the door that separated the main house from the servants’ domain. Dribbs was there at his usual position, half an eye on the house, half an eye on who and what came through that door. He smiled immediately upon seeing her and crossed to her side.

“Mrs. Mortimer. I trust you are well this morning?”

She smiled and managed a wry twist to her lips. “As well as I deserve, Mr. Dribbs. Cook mentioned that you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes, ma’am. If you would step in here, please?” He crossed to what was usually called the butler’s closet, but in this home, it was very much larger than the typical closet. He had a small room that included a desk plus a small settee and table, which was currently set with a breakfast of tea, jam, and hot buns. She couldn’t see the steam rising from the hot bread, but she could absolutely smell the delightful scent and her stomach rumbled in hunger.

She glanced nervously at Dribbs, who arched a brow at her. “Is something amiss?” he asked, his voice excruciatingly dry.

She glanced at him. Something in his tone or attitude was different. As if there were an undercurrent of humor in everything he said, but that couldn’t possibly be true. Whereas Dribbs was known to be rather familiar with the earl’s family—downright cheeky, if truth be told—he was known belowstairs as a man with a stern hand. He would
not be overly familiar with a dressmaker, even if she had spent the night talking with the earl. If anything he would be more stern, just so he could enforce his authority over her.

Keeping that in mind, she forced her eyes away from the breakfast and folded her hands together to keep from reaching for it. “Nothing’s wrong, Mr. Dribbs. How can I help you this morning?”

“I understand you have been keeping irregular hours, Mrs. Mortimer,” he said in a cold tone. “Are you perhaps a bit hungry?”

Helaine glanced up in surprise as she realized what was happening. She feared she was about to receive a very stern dressing-down from a butler. That would be a first in her life, but again, no more than she deserved. Still, she tried to head it off.

“I know I missed morning meal, Mr. Dribbs, and my hunger is appropriate punishment for that. But I have not in any way shorted my duties toward the family.”

“I should think not!” he snapped. Then he gestured to the settee. “Pray sit down.”

She did as he bade, though she moved slowly. He had indicated that she sit directly in front of the food. Was he torturing her? Setting out food when he knew she couldn’t eat it?

She watched as he sat down in the chair across from her, his expression almost bland. Except for a tiny flash of…something. Was he laughing at her?

“Mr. Dribbs?”

“I received a note from his lordship this morning. It was there waiting for me when I arose. It concerned you, Mrs. Mortimer.” He paused, looking down his nose at her in the most imperious manner.

“Er, what did it say?” she asked. Or she tried to ask. Sadly, her mouth was salivating enough that it came out more like “shay.”

“He requested that you share breakfast with the family.”

It took a moment for her to understand his words, and
even then she still didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “That’s, er, most unusual.”

“This can be an unusual household. But his lordship was most specific. Said he wished to speak with you over his morning breakfast.”

She brightened, immeasurably relieved. Robert didn’t wish her to share breakfast with him. He wanted to
talk
to her at breakfast. As a master speaks to his servants. “I’ll report to him right away.” She made to straighten off the settee, but was stopped by Dribbs’s soft cough. She froze in a half crouch.