Page 47

An Assignation Leads to a Confrontation

L ater that night

Although dinner had not been especially long and drawn out that evening, it had felt as if the minutes had ticked by entirely too slow for Helen.

She wondered if they had for Tom.

From the manner in which he had caught her eye as they entered the dining room, she knew he had read her letter. As to his thoughts on the matter, he gave nothing away during the animated discussion of that day’s discoveries.

Animated until tiredness seemed to overtake them. If the men stayed for a glass of liquor prior to going to bed, she and the other women wouldn’t know of it until their men joined them, for none of the ladies opted to take tea in the parlor after dinner.

Her heart beating too fast and her increased breathing making her feel light-headed, Helen glanced at the timepiece that hung from a gold chain around her neck.

Ten-fifty-five . At least, it was as close as it could be given the lack of clocks with which to synchronize it. She had opted to believe the hotel’s clock in the parlor and had reset her timepiece while they waited for the Bellinghams and their party to join them for dinner earlier that evening.

The jeweled chronometer had been a gift from her sister-in-law, Margaret, for her twenty-first birthday.

The gemologist and Helen’s brother, Alexander, had adorned the gold watch casing with a row of emerald gems along the outer rim and at the end of the winding mechanism, making it easy to wind the watch every morning and every evening.

Given Bradley’s tendency to grab at the jewels, she kept it hidden under her bodice during the daytime.

She stood from the bed and moved to the cheval mirror in the corner of the room.

The moonlight streaming through the room’s only window was enough by which to see her reflection.

Her long blonde hair was brushed out but still wavy from the bun in which it had been wound all day.

Dressed in her best night rail, her blue satin dressing gown left open in the front, she appeared almost ethereal in the silver light.

What would Tom think when he saw her though?

She had thought to simply wear what she had for dinner that evening. At half-past-ten, she was still wearing the emerald dinner gown, earning her compliments from both Diana and Barbara. She had caught Tom watching her at least twice during the evening meal, but he hadn’t said a word to her.

She was sure he had read her letter. There had been that slight lift of his head, as if he was acknowledging her concerns and would explain himself later.

Before that, she had imagined her letter accidentally falling behind his bed when the counterpane was pulled aside. Lying on the floor under his bed, never to be found or read by anyone until...

Helen gave a start when she sensed movement behind her. Whirling around, she found herself face to face with Tom.

“I didn’t hear you knock,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “I didn’t,” he replied. “I... I almost didn’t come. For... obvious reasons.”

A rock seemed to fall into her stomach, and Helen lifted a hand to press against her middle. “Obvious?” she repeated, fighting back tears.

“I feared I might be discovered. You would be ruined, and...” Here he paused and bit his lip. “Well, I suppose that’s no longer a concern,” he said before allowing a long sigh.

Helen stared at him for a moment, her brows furrowing in confusion. “No longer a concern?” she repeated. “Whatever are you talking about?” She faced the door, thinking perhaps he meant that someone had indeed seen him enter.

“Helen,” he said softly. “I wish you would have told me that night.”

She blinked. “Told you what?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. She quickly lifted a hand and smoothed away the furrows left behind, watching as he closed his eyes and seemed to shiver beneath her touch.

“I can do math,” he said.

“I never thought you couldn’t,” she countered.

“Bradley is a year old.”

“One year and a month,” she corrected him.

“Which means he was born a year ago January,” he said.

“He was.”

“Which means...” He paused and dipped his head. “He was already... on the way... the night we kissed. At the Morganfield ball,” he struggled to get out. “In September.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” she said, her blonde brows furrowing in confusion.

“Who... pray tell, who is the father?”

Helen once again blinked. “Well, Father, of course,” she replied.

Tom inhaled sharply. His subsequent groan and a sound of disgust was loud in the quiet room. “Oh, God,” he whispered.

“Tom, whatever is wrong?” she asked.

He scoffed. “You don’t know ?” he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

Helen swallowed, wondering if he had heard some rumor suggesting her mother had been involved in an affaire , which would suggest Bradley’s father was someone other than her father. Given her parents amorous behavior, she knew it was rather unlikely, though.

Which left only one other consideration.

“Well, if you’re saying my mother is too old to be having a babe, then let me be the one to inform you that Queen Charlotte was still having babies when she was nearly forty.”

It was Tom’s turn to blink, and he did so several times. “Your... your mother ?”

Helen nodded. “Who did you think...?” She widened her eyes as realization dawned on her, and she stepped back as her mouth dropped open in shock. “Thomas Forster!” she scolded.

“Bradley is... is your brother ?” Tom asked, only a moment before her open hand made contact with his cheek.

Hard.

The slap was so loud, Helen winced at the thought it might have awakened everyone in the hotel. From the expression on Tom’s face, she didn’t know if she had truly hurt him or simply knocked some sense into him.

Either way, she was fairly sure it had worked.