Page 4 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

“Elizabeth,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, yanking her chair even with Helena’s.

“No.” Helena lifted her head and crooked the corner of her mouth, returning Miss Fernsby-Webb’s infectious smile. “But that is a popular name.”

“Elenore?” Miss Webb said as they entered the parlor.

Helena flicked her eyes to Miss Webb. “Also, no.”

The Duke of Lennox appeared before them and took Helena’s chair, his finger brushing against hers as his hands curved around the wood.

“Elenore?” he asked, a slight frown on his face.

“Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb are attempting to guess my sisters’ names,” Helena replied, regretting her decision to agree to the game.

“Have they succeeded?” He plunked the chair down on the empty side of a square table, one of four scattered across the parlor.

“They have not.” She walked to a mahogany linen press hidden in the far corner of the parlor, pulled out the middle drawer, and selected several white tablecloths.

“What is the prize if they win?”

The Duke of Lennox’s nearness startled Helena, and she emitted a tiny squeak, her head whipping to the right. He stood beside her—almost at an unacceptable distance—and extended his hand to collect the stack of linens.

“Merely the amusement of guessing correctly.” Relinquishing the tablecloths, she returned her attention to the drawer, firmly instructing her heart to slow its rapid rhythm.

“Did you provide any hints?” He separated the stack and gave Miss Fernsby-Webb half of the coverings.

“Miss Rowe revealed that all three names begin with the letter ‘E’.” Miss Fernsby-Webb shook out the first cloth, spreading the material over the nearest table.

“Intriguing.” The Duke of Lennox passed Miss Webb the other half of the linens. “Is there a reason you’ve kept the names secret, Miss Rowe?”

“No, Your Grace.” Helena yanked a pile of napkins from the linen press, then shoved the drawer closed with her leg. “It merely saddens me to think of them. They live so far away.”

“Perhaps they will visit someday.” He offered her a kind smile.

“Perhaps,” Helena replied, shuffling toward the first table. “However, as they are all newly wedded, their focus is on their husbands.”

Shaking out the second table covering, Miss Fernsby-Webb glanced over at Helena. “Were they all love matches?”

“They were.” Helena smiled, warmed by the memory of her sisters’ euphoric faces. “I hope I’ll find the same happiness as them and your sister one day.”

“You’ve never been in love?” Miss Fernsby-Webb’s question stopped the Duke of Lennox from exiting the room.

He paused in the doorway, hovering between the parlor and the hallway, and waited for Helena’s response.

She forced her gaze to remain locked on Miss Fernsby-Webb.

“I would like to say yes, as I believe that is an emotion everyone should experience. Regrettably, I wasn’t as fortunate as my sisters.”

Unlucky was a far better description for the arranged marriage her brother secured with Mr. Humphrey Drummond, who had never had a chance to place his claim on Helena despite several attempts to brutally force himself upon her.

Even though she had shared her concern regarding the match, her brother refused to end the engagement. Therefore, Miss Eveline Braddock rescued herself, changing her name and leaving no trace of her destination. While she regretted the worry her disappearance caused her brother and sisters, she knew the decision had saved her life.

“Do not despair,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, adjusting the tablecloth. “Cupid’s arrow may yet discover you in Wiltshire.”

Miss Webb cleared her throat, then tilted her head toward the now-vacant door frame. “Once we’re alone, and before our guests arrive, I have a matter of grave importance to discuss with you both.”

Miss Fernsby-Webb’s eyes bulged.

“Are you with child?” She darted across the room, collided with her sister, and grabbed hold of Miss Webb’s shoulders.