Page 9 of A Suitable New Year’s Revenge (Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society #42)

Helena nearly dropped her teacup. She quickly put it back onto its saucer and shoved aside her breakfast to read the letter again.

Yes. There it was and in the London Times of all places—only the most read newspaper in the entire country! How… Who… Well, it certainly couldn’t have been Lord Hazelton who’d had any hand in this. And yet… he had allowed his name to be mentioned. And in consultation with Lord Cumnor ? Did her father know of this?

Helena jumped to her feet and went up to her father’s bedchamber.

He was awake and sipping from a teacup with the aid of the maid. Upon seeing Helena, he pushed the cup aside. “Helena.” His voice was as breathless and raspy as ever. Helena had hoped he might continue to recover some since she’d been home, but he didn’t seem to be doing so. On the other hand, he hadn’t become any worse either.

Helena marched over to the bed and showed her father the newspaper. “Did you have a hand in this?” she demanded.

He squinted at the paper. “I… I cannot read it.”

“It is a letter from Lord Hazelton—although, I highly doubt that—and Mr. Pine Teviot in—and I quote— consultation from Lord Cumnor .”

“Ah! They printed it. Good.” The last word was barely vocalized. He took in a wheezing breath.

“You knew about this?” she asked, astounded.

Her father’s lips quirked up into a little smile, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

“But.. but how?”

“Colburne assisted,” he said, keeping his words to a minimum.

Helena dropped her hands to her sides, stunned. “Dr. Colburne?”

“Lord Dr. Colburne,” her father corrected her.

“He knows Pine?”

Her father raised his eyebrows.

“Er, Mr. Teviot, I mean,” Helena quickly corrected herself. It was too late, of course.

Her fathers lips twitched. “And now Hazelton, I believe.”

“I cannot believe Lord Hazelton has anything to do with this,” she argued. “He is the most insufferable man! He told me—to my face—that he thought I was lying about my studies! Can you believe it?”

Her father just closed his eyes.

“I don’t know why, but Lord Hazelton is… is mean. Thoughtless. Careless with his words as well,” she told him.

Lord Cumnor’s eyes opened once again. This time he looked concerned.

“He told me that the moment you died he was going to take over Cumnor and said he was probably going to have a time of it making the estate profitable—as if you hadn’t been caring for it all these years!”

Her father let out a breath from between pursed lips.

“He practically told me that he couldn’t wait until you were gone so he could get to work on it,” she admitted.

Her father looked up at her. “He doesn’t like us much.”

“He doesn’t! I don’t know why.”

“After I learned… it was he who would inherit… I couldn’t remember why his name was… familiar,” her father said slowly. “Then, I remembered the quarrel. My grandfather… and his. Cousins. Hated each other.”

“Really? Why?”

He shook his head slightly. “Something to do with money. Always does.”

Helena sat at the edge of his bed. The maid had left soon after Helena had come in, but she’d left his teacup on the table next to his bed. Helena now picked it up and put it to her father’s lips. “Drink.”

He did so obediently. “Sick… of broth,” he said after she’d wiped his chin.

Helena looked into the teacup. She’d thought it was tea, but he was right. It was beef broth. “I suppose you need the nutrients. You aren’t eating anything else.”

Her father just sighed. “Not hungry.”

“Would you like some tea?”

He looked up at her with pleading eyes. She just laughed and went downstairs to fix him a pot of real tea, sweetened with plenty of sugar just as he liked it.

That evening, even as she dressed, Helena had second thoughts about going to this ball. If it hadn’t been for her father’s most emphatic insistence, she wouldn’t being doing so.

Was he beginning to worry about what would happen to her after he died? Perhaps between speaking with Dr. Colburne and Lady Hazelton, he finally was, although it was hard to believe it. Helena clearly loved her father, but he was like most other men of his age and status—completely self-centered.

He’d left Helena’s upbringing entirely to her mother while he worked on his studies. He’d rarely even joined them at dinner when he was deep into his work. And he’d never, not once, inquired about her state of matrimony—or lack thereof.

Perhaps these past few weeks of lying in his bed without even the strength to read had given him time to think and, perhaps, realize that Helena needed a husband or else some way of supporting herself after he was gone.

The problem was that Pine would be at the ball. It was the reason he and his parents had come all the way to Town—or so Lady Hazelton had said.

Helena and Pine’s last meeting had been so awkward. They didn’t know what to say to one another. And the time before that, well.... Helena sighed. Words had been said that perhaps shouldn’t have. There’d been misunderstandings on both sides.

She picked up the newspaper, folded to the letter Pine had published. She still couldn’t believe he’d written such a thing—and that he got his father to allow his name to be associated with it.

Just looking at it warmed her heart. It shoved aside all her fears and worries. It gave her hope that she might, in fact, have a future with Pine.

Knowing her father was asleep, and with one last look at herself in the mirror, she decided that it would have to do. Her gown was two years old, and she didn’t have the knack—nor the maid—to do anything fancy with her hair. She’d done her best. Taking her spark of hope and her shawl, she headed out for the short walk to Lady Wickford’s home, just a few streets away. Lord Colburne had suggested she come closer to ten or even ten-thirty, saying that it was unlikely that many would show before then. She hadn’t been to a society ball for so long that she could hardly remember what time people arrived, so she took his advice.

“Oh my, don’t you look lovely and with such a healthy glow to your cheeks,” Lady Wickford said as she greeted Helena.

Helena laughed and put a hand to her cold cheek. “It’s the cold, I’m afraid. I didn’t see the point in taking a carriage to go such a short distance.”

“Well, it makes you look beautiful. But please, don’t let us keep you, go right in,” Lord Wickford said.

Helena gave another quick curtsy and did as they suggested.

She was surprised the room was so crowded, and it made her wonder how many others had come just for this party. She wandered among the other guests but didn’t know very many since she had never been very much a part of society. Still, people were polite and nodded their greeting as she passed.

She caught sight of Lord and Lady Hazelton speaking with one of the ladies of the Wagering Whist Society but didn’t see Pine—until she looked toward the dance floor.

There he was skipping and turning with the most brilliant smile on his face. He positively glowed. Helena didn’t know the young lady he was dancing with, but as they turned about together in the center of their circle, she said something that made him laugh out loud. He responded in kind, and as the two other couples retreated to their opposite sides of the circle, they were still giggling and sharing a look as if they couldn’t bear to take their eyes from each other.

Helena shook out her hands even as a weight settled over her chest. Was it her imagination or had the room just become colder?

No, she must still be feeling the cold from her walk.

Much to her relief, the dance ended. Pine bowed gallantly to his partner who gave him a very pretty curtsy. He then took her hand and led her back to an older lady who had to be her mother. He said a few words to her and then turned away and headed to another part of the room opposite to where Helena was standing.

She realized with a start that she had simply been staring at him for five minutes or more. That would not do. She turned and immediately bumped into Lady Welles.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, my lady,” Helena said immediately.

The young woman laughed. “I was just coming to greet you.”

“Of course,” Helena curtsied properly. “Good evening, Lady Welles.”

“Good evening.” The lady’s smile hadn’t left her face. She was absolutely stunning in a deep-pink gown with Belgian lace falling elegantly from the high waist. The color brought out the pink of her cheeks and the green of her eyes. Her hair was adorned with small, pink silk roses nestled among the complicated twists of her coiffure. Her beauty made Helena all the more aware of her own old dress and simple hair style.

“Please, tell me how Lord Cumnor is doing. Colburne mentioned that he seemed to be a bit better since your return.”

“He is, thankfully. Thank you for asking,” Helena said.

“Of course. We have all been concerned,” the lady said, but Helena’s attention was caught by Pine, who was leading another young lady out to dance.

She was vaguely aware that her companion had asked her something. With difficulty, she pulled her gaze away and returned her attention to Lady Welles. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said.”

The lady waved it away and pointed with her chin to the dance floor. “Nothing important. She is very pretty, the young lady dancing with Mr. Teviot.”

“Yes,” Helena agreed, turning back to watch.

“I hear she’s quite an heiress.”

“Really?”

“Some were even calling her the diamond of last Season, although Miss Fitzherbert might have protested that—such a sweet and demure girl.”

Helena had no idea who Lady Welles was talking about. All she knew was that the young lady Pine was dancing with was looking up at him as if he were the one causing the world to turn.

“Oh my, they do look smitten, don’t they?”

Helena shifted her gaze from the girl to Pine. He wasn’t looking bright with joy as he had during the previous dance, but had a hungrier, more serious look in his face. The weight on Helena’s chest grew heavier, and the air was so cold she was practically shivering. Oddly, she was also having trouble breathing.

She didn’t think things could get any worse, and then the young lady dancing with Pine tripped. He immediately grabbed her around her waist to keep her from toppling to the floor. As he set her back on her feet, she looked up at him. Helena couldn’t see the girl’s expression as her back was to her, but Pine was facing her. He looked concerned and... reluctant? Probably reluctant to let her go. In fact, he seemed to pull her even closer to himself before finally removing his hands.

Helena couldn’t take it. She couldn’t watch the man she loved with another woman. She couldn’t breathe. She needed some air, some space.

With a brief “Excuse me,” she practically ran toward the glass doors that led out into the garden.

Pine was practically certain Miss Fitzherbert had tripped into his arms on purpose. She had pulled him almost indecently close before she’d allowed him to release her, then gave him the sultriest look. He didn’t want such looks from this girl. He wanted them from—

“Helena?” The word shot from his mouth. He hadn’t known she was there. If he had, he most certainly wouldn’t have been dancing, no matter how much Lady Blakemore had practically insisted he ask so many girls to dance. He hadn’t been able to escape, and good manners dictated he did as she suggested—the girls in question were standing right in front of him, looking so hopeful.

But Helena was here. And she had been nearly running for the garden. With a gasp, he realized that she must have seen him catch Miss Fitzherbert and taken it the wrong way.

Without a word to the girl, he left the dance and chased after Helena. He had already done so much wrong; he would not allow her to think any worse of him than she already did.

He found her standing in the freezing cold, her arms wrapped around herself as she stood, shivering, and staring up at the sky.

He shrugged out of his coat and approached her.

“There are a million stars up there, but not one of them is as beautiful as you,” he said, putting his coat around her shoulders.

She started and turned so fast, he didn’t have a chance to back away to a polite distance… and then he found that he couldn’t. He could feel the heat of her breath, smell her lovely floral scent. It took all of his self-control not to kiss her right there. But he knew they could be seen by anyone within the ballroom who happened to look outside.

“Pine!” she whispered.

He smiled at her and reluctantly took a small step back.

“Did you…” She turned and looked into the ballroom, where people were still dancing and talking as if the world hadn’t just stopped. She frowned at him. “You were dancing.”

“I was forced by Lady Blakemore to ask some girls to dance,” he said with a small nod.

“Forced?”

He lifted one side of his lips. “She insisted on introducing me and then arranged it, so I had no choice but to ask them to dance. I didn’t want to. I wanted to wait and see if you would come. But then… it got late, so I thought perhaps you’d decided not to.”

“Lord Colburne told me that no one showed up until ten or later,” she told him.

He started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“The Ladies’ Wagering Whist Society. This is all their handiwork. They’re known for this sort of thing,” he told her.

She frowned. “Making people jealous?”

That wiped the smile from his face. “Were you? Jealous?”

She looked down at the slate below their feet. “I… I was.”

He reached out and put a finger under her chin, lifting it so that she was forced to look at him. “It’s wonderful that you were jealous.”

“It is?”

“It means you care.”

“Of course I care! I…” She stopped.

“You what?”

She shook her head, clearly deciding not to continue with what she was about to say. When she raised her eyes to his once more, she said, “I saw the letter. In the paper. I can’t believe you got your father to add his name to it.”

He smiled again. “You would not believe how insistent my mother can be.”

She gave a little laugh. “Actually, I think I might.”

“But I meant it. Every word in that letter. I think you should be able to publish under your own name. I hope you never feel you need to stop your studies just because you cannot publish your findings.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You are an incredible woman, Helena Lawson. I am in awe of how intelligent, beautiful, and kind you are.”

She shook her head to deny his words, but he placed his hand on her cheek.

“It’s true. I am so sorry, Helena. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you! I never thought marriage to you would be distasteful. Please, believe me, Pine. I thought… I thought you might, and I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“I’m not. I’m right where I want to be and with whom I want to be.” He looked deeply into her lovely, expressive eyes. “Helena, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Of being engaged to me with no pretense involved?”

A smile grew on her face. “I love you, Pine, and I would be delighted to make our engagement real.”

He gave a little laugh of joy. “I love you too.” He bent down and kissed her—and the world exploded. Fireworks shot up into the sky, and everyone in the ballroom was shouting and laughing and toasting each other with glasses of champagne. Someone started singing Auld Lang Syne and soon everyone had joined in.

“What?” Pine whispered, looking up.

Helena just laughed. “Happy New Year, Pine.”

“Oh!” He laughed. “Happy New Year.”