Page 52

A Mother and Daughter Talk

M eanwhile

Stella looked up from where Bradley rested in her arms to see her daughter standing in the doorway. Helen had paused, as if she dare not cross the threshold into the hotel’s parlor.

“Your father was deep in his cups when he came to bed last night,” Stella said. “When I asked what might be the matter, he mentioned your name and then passed out. Might you know anything about that?”

For a moment, Helen displayed a look of confusion. “Oh, I suppose he was celebrating,” she replied, finally entering the parlor to take the upholstered chair opposite her mother’s.

“Celebrating?”

“My betrothal.”

Despite how Bradley had begun to stir in her arms, Stella went very still. “Betrothal?” she repeated in a soft voice.

“Yes. Thomas would like to marry me, but he won’t formally propose until he has secured Father’s permission, which I think might be happening at this very moment.”

“Thomas?” For a long moment, Stella seemed lost in thought. “Thomas Forster?”

“Yes, Mother.” Helen leaned forward, her face displaying concern. “Are you all right? I thought you would be pleased.”

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, Stella chuckled. “I am,” she claimed happily. “Oh, I am, only... I wasn’t aware he’s been courting you. His behavior has been so... odd.” Despite hoping to hear such news—almost expecting it—it still caught her by surprise.

Helen tittered. “He hasn’t been, not really,” she admitted. “So do not concern yourself with thinking you have been blind,” she explained.

Stella kept her attention on her daughter as she considered whether or not she should admit what she had suspected. “Yet you do not seem especially surprised,” she said suddenly. “What had him speaking of marriage so suddenly? Of deciding you were to be his choice for a wife?”

Although she had noticed Thomas’ regard for her daughter—she had caught him staring at Helen a number of times—she still experienced a moment of disbelief despite what Harry had said the night before. Her daughter really was going to marry the son of an earl.

Straightening in her chair, Helen’s face reddened.

“I, um, I may have slapped him. Slapped some sense into him,” she stammered.

“I would have hit him with that carved sphinx we purchased from the street vendor, but I feared I might do permanent damage if I did. I do rather like his appearance the way it is.”

Blinking several times, Stella made an odd sound in her throat. “I did that to your father once,” she murmured. “You are correct in saying it is quite effective in securing their attention.”

“I discovered that’s very true, yes,” Helen agreed.

“Tell me, what did Thomas do to deserve such violence upon his person?”

Helen seemed to think on her answer before she lifted a shoulder. “It was more what he had led himself to believe of me, despite knowing I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Stella blinked, ready to be angry with Thomas. “What such a thing did he think you had done? That you hadn’t... or didn’t?”

Waving to her brother, Helen tittered. “It seems I’m guilty of being too attentive when it comes to Bradley. He believed I was his mother.”

Blinking again, Stella scoffed. “He what ?” she countered.

“I think he heard Bradley call me ‘mama’ once, and I do dote on him something awful, so I suppose he’s not really to blame,” Helen reasoned.

Glancing down at the boy, Stella watched as Bradley grinned in delight and said, “Mama,” as he attempted to capture a foot in his chubby hands.

“Well, finally ,” she said as her face brightened. “You’ve been saying ‘dada’ for so long, I wondered if you would ever know to call me mama,” she added.

“Dada, dada,” he replied happily.

“You’re definitely done feeding off me for the rest of the day,” Stella said under her breath.

Helen laughed even as a tear streamed down one cheek. “He kissed me. At the Morganfield’s ball, the night before they left London for Sicily,” she said.

“Oh, did he now?”

“Indeed. We were supposed to dance the waltz, but he offered to take me for a walk in the gardens instead. The ball was such a crush that night, I welcomed any excuse to go out of doors.”

“That’s when he kissed you? In the gardens?” She thought of all the indiscretions to which the flowers in the Morganfield gardens had paid witness over the decades and chuckled softly.

Helen nodded.

“You didn’t get caught,” Stella stated.

“No,” Helen acknowledged. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I was. None of the young bucks in London had any intentions of courting me, so ruination wouldn’t have changed anything,” she said in a quiet voice.

“It would have changed everything , darling,” Stella countered.

“How?” Helen challenged, straightening in her chair.

“We would have forced him to marry you before he left England.”

“He wouldn’t have been ready for marriage.

And I wouldn’t have wanted to marry a resentful man.

Father wouldn’t have forced the issue,” she claimed, obviously with more confidence than she felt.

“Besides, Thomas would have been long gone by the time the gossip spread, Mother,” she added.

“But I agree. It was better this way, even though I’ve been forced to wonder for some time if anything would ever come of that kiss. ”

Stella considered her daughter’s words, realizing she had been rehearsing them for well over a year. That didn’t mean she was particularly amenable with the idea of marriage to Thomas Forster, though. “Are you happy at the thought of marrying him?”

Helen nodded. “Incandescently so. Although I must warn you, I may end up living at Gisborn Hall in Oxfordshire.”

“Oh,” Stella murmured, her momentary thrill at hearing Helen was indeed happy with the arrangement quickly abating.

“Or we might take up residence in the Gisborn townhouse in Mayfair, should Lord and Lady Forster decide to live at Gisborn Hall. Which I think is more likely since there are apparently some archaeological sites there for Diana to explore.”

Stella’s eyes widened at hearing this last. “Oh, I do hope it works out that you can stay in the capital,” Stella breathed.

“Well, you’re friends with his aunt. Perhaps you can mention it to Lady Bellingham, and she can pass along the thought to Lady Gisborn when we return to England,” Helen suggested.

“You know I will.” She glanced down at Bradley again to discover he was sound asleep. “When will you marry, do you suppose?”

Helen shook her head. “It will be months before we’re back in Europe, and the boys are planning time in Rome as their final stop on their Grand Tour,” she explained.

Stella’s eyes widened in delight. “Rome,” she said on a sigh. “You should marry in Rome,” she whispered.

Lifting a shoulder, Helen grinned but didn’t mention that she didn’t think she could wait that long. She was about to put voice to a query about how she might marry in Egypt when her Father appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, Father,” she said brightly.

“Morning, darling,” Stella said in a quiet voice as Harry made his way to her to place a kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“Morning to you two. Three,” he amended when his attention went to his son. “I’ve actually been up for a while. There is a young man in the hotel lobby who would like a moment of our daughter’s time—or rather the rest of her entire lifetime,” he said softly.

“Oh!” Helen said, quickly rising from her chair.

“Don’t rush, Helen. Make him wait for you,” Stella admonished her.

“Yes, Mother. Thank you, Father.” She curtsied and slowly walked out the door, her measured steps exaggerating her slow pace.

Stella exchanged a knowing glance with her husband when they heard the footsteps increase in frequency and fade on the carpeted corridor floor.

“I told you so,” Harry whispered before he joined his wife on the settee.

Glad she agreed with him this one time, Stella said, “Yes, you did.” She paused. “Did he happen to mention their desire for children?”

Harry glanced over at her. “He did.”

“Are you going to make him wait?”

Knowing exactly what she meant, he shook his head. “Even if I told him to, it wouldn’t matter,” he murmured.

“Why do you say that?” she asked in alarm.

“Because if I know my daughter, she won’t let him wait,” he replied. “She is his now.”

Stella grinned even as a blush suffused her face. “Like mother, like daughter,” she said in a whisper.

“Minx,” he accused.

But he didn’t argue.