Page 16 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

With a resolute grimace, Miss Fernsby-Webb marched over to the fireplace, bent, and, with great ceremony, threw the flowers into the crackling fire. Standing, she brushed her hands together over the flames, removing any petal particles that may have stuck to her skin.

Helena’s gaze fell to the lavender. The delicate flowers shriveled and turned to ash, destroyed by the fire’s unforgiving intensity. Not unlike what would have happened to her had she followed through with the marriage to Humphrey.

Another knock sounded at the front door, but Miss Fernsby-Webb’s hand gently pushed Helena’s head back onto the cushion before Helena could sit up.

“Rest, Miss Rowe,” she said, skirting the edge of the sofa. “The guests shouldn’t be arriving this early.”

Nodding, Helena returned her attention to the flickering flames. Nothing remained of the lavender bundle except traces of fear, which refused to leave Helena’s body no matter how many times she told herself that no one knew where she was… or who she was.

“Who is Eveline Braddock?” Miss Fernsby-Webb said as she entered the parlor.

Helena’s heart stopped.

Pushing up, she peered at Miss Fernsby-Webb over the back of the sofa. “What did you say?”

“Eveline Braddock.” Holding up a letter, Miss Fernsby-Webb crossed the room. “This missive is addressed to her.”

Both ladies stared at Helena as though expecting an explanation.

“Perhaps the letter was delivered to the wrong house,” she replied with a shrug and winced at the unnaturally bright tone in her voice. “I shall return the missive to the postman the next time he visits.”

“The postman didn’t deliver it.” Miss Fernsby-Webb sat beside Helena. “The missive was left on the doorstep. There was no one visible when I opened the door.”

Terror bubbled into Helena’s throat, and she struggled to keep her face neutral despite the chaos compounding in her mind.

“May I see the letter?” she asked, hoping both ladies missed the nervous crack in her voice as she accepted the thick paper. “I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

Miss Webb leaned closer, inspecting the elegant script, and murmured, “I don’t either; however, you shouldn’t open the missive if it isn’t addressed to you.”

Helena agreed with Miss Webb, but not for the reason of privacy. Someone in Wiltshire knew her actual name.

“For safekeeping, I’ll place the missive in my chamber until after tonight’s festivities.” Rising from the sofa, Helena clutched the letter to her chest. “Then we can attempt to return the letter to its rightful owner.”

She didn’t wait for their accord. Instead, she darted from the room, raced up the staircase, and ripped open the seal the moment she burst into her chamber. One hand pressed to her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as her gaze slid over the neat scrawl.

Greetings, Miss Braddock,

While your new friends may not know your true identity, I do. However, I’m willing to keep your secret for a small amount of compensation.

One hundred pounds, left on your doorstep at midnight tonight, or the truth of Miss Helena Rowe will be published in the morning’s paper.

And then, you’ll have nowhere to hide.

CHAPTER FOUR

LEVI OVERTON, DUKE OF LENNOX

Grisham’s hand closed around Levi’s arm, preventing him from creeping closer to the specter-like shadow hovering on the gazebo stairs. “Tell me you see what I’m seeing.”

“I do,” Levi replied, his throat tightening.

Warwick limped past them, accompanied by Mansfield, who clucked his tongue and said, “Don’t surmise what that thing is until we are close enough to make the observation without question.”

Releasing Levi, Grisham took a step backward toward the exit. “I prefer to make the assumption from this distance.”

“Alone?” Twisting around, Mansfield raised both his eyebrows. “It’s quite courageous to eschew the protection of your companions. Unless you expect Lennox to remain with you…”

He and Grisham turned their expectant faces toward Levi.