Page 246 of Desires of a Duke Collection

An hour later, at Weston Hall

Helena entered the dining room on the arm of her son, Amelia following behind.

“I didn’t see much of you last night,” she said, directing her attention on Alfred. “I do appreciate you sending the coach back for us.”

He chuckled. “I spent most of the evening admiring tropical fish,” he replied, holding her chair for her. Once she was seated, he moved to hold Amelia’s chair for her.

Stunned by his act of courtesy, Amelia didn’t immediately sit down. “Thank you,” she said, almost making it a question.

“Did you two enjoy playing cards last night?” he asked.

Both Helena and Amelia regarded him with looks of shock. “Yes,” they said in unison.

“Your sister more than me, I imagine,” Helena added, nodding to a footman who was waiting with a bottle of wine.

Alfred directed his gaze on his sister. “Why is that?”

Turning her attention to her mother, Amelia frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean. I only played a few hands,” she argued. “Until Violet had to leave with the Duchess of Pendleton, and I certainly didn’t win any hands.”

Helena displayed an odd expression. “I hardly noticed. I always seem to end up playing with the same old biddies,” she complained. “Although I enjoy a bit of gossip as much as anyone, I find it tiring after a time. There’s never anything new.”

“Actually, there is,” Alfred countered. “My new man of business will start work on the morrow,” he announced, lifting his glass of wine as if in a toast.

Helena regarded him with an expression of surprise, now realizing why he was in a much better mood than usual. “Why, that’s wonderful.”

“Did you choose the one who used to work for the Earl of Montaine?” Amelia asked.

“Indeed. Name’s Nelson. Seems competent and eager to see to the business,” he replied. “I’ll keep the ledgers and pay the bills while he sees to the correspondence. With my input, of course.” This last was said with a hint of arrogance.

“That’s to be expected,” Helena said. “What of the last of your father’s affairs?” When she noticed how he stiffened, she immediately regretted the query.

“I’m paying a call on the solicitor in the morning to finalize the matters of estate,” he replied. “As long as there are no surprises in father’s will, I expect that will be the end of it.”

Helena dared a glance at Amelia. Although the solicitor had informed her of the arrangements Harcourt had made on their behalf, Mr. Barton had warned her the last will and testament was signed before their daughter had been born. Why Harcourt had thought he was immortal, she could never say, but his refusal to see to an updated will greatly bothered her. “I do hope he has a dowry set aside for Amelia is all,” she murmured, hoping to convince him she wasn’t concerned on her own behalf.

Having just taken a sip of her wine, Amelia nearly choked on it. “He said he was going to see to it. Last year. Before the Season started,” she said.

“If he didn’t, I’ll see to it,” Alfred said between spoonfuls of soup, returning to his usual sullen manner.

“Another morning or two, and I shall have all the social correspondence caught up,” Helena said brightly. “It seems as if we’ve been invited to everything.”

Alfred’s momentary funk seemed to clear. “Perhaps I’ll be able to attend a few events. Enjoy playing a card game or two.”

“Did you dance last night?” Amelia asked.

Glancing up from her soup, Helena shook her head. “No one asked me,” she said, darting a glance at her son. “But then most of those who were dancing were much younger.”

“I danced once,” Alfred remarked proudly. “I feared I’d forgotten how, but the steps came easily enough.”

When he didn’t offer more on the matter, Helena asked, “Who had the honor of being your partner?”

Alfred visibly reddened. “Amelia’s friend. Lady Violet,” he replied. “Thought it best I make her acquaintance since she was apparently introduced to me at another event,” he added, a quelling glance directed in his sister’s direction.

Helena furrowed a brow. “She’s rather new to Town, is she not?”

“She’s from Shropshire,” Amelia replied. “Hasn’t even been in Town for a month.”

“She must come from a good family if her aunt is the Duchess of Pendleton,” Helena remarked.

“Indeed,” Amelia replied. Determined not to mention Violet’s relationship to Philip, she was about to change the subject when the footmen appeared with the next course. “Oh, Mother, you’ve outdone yourself with tonight’s dinner,” she said.

Helena regarded her daughter as if she’d grown another head. “Thank you?” she replied, directing a glance in Alfred’s direction.

He wasn’t paying attention to either of them, though, his gaze apparently on his mind’s eye. Deciding it best she let him continue his reverie—from his expression, it seemed he was enjoying himself—Helena merely concentrated on her dinner.

There was something different about Alfred on this night, and she hoped it was a sign he was changing.

For the better.

If he hadn’t—or didn’t very soon—she had already begun devising a scheme whereby she could leave London to go on a holiday. With Katherine, Duchess of Pendleton, already seeing to sponsoring a young lady for the Season, Helena was sure she could convince the woman to take on another in her stead.

Helena suppressed the stab of guilt she felt at the thought of leaving her children. Perhaps she could make it through the rest of the Season without a change of venue. Perhaps she could endure a few more months of entertainments, but after that, she would leave London.

Now that she was out of mourning, she was determined to live the rest of her life free of a man’s control.