Chapter 8 At Home, Grosvenor Square

Helena's partner, who only moments before had been leading her with consummate skill through the waltz, began for some unaccountable reason to add a bounce to his step so that she found herself no longer gliding across the floor but being jogged up and down in a most disconcerting fashion. His face averted from hers, he seemed supremely unaware of her distress and she couldn't draw sufficient breath to alert him. The spring in his step grew ever stronger and more insistent until she was bounding helplessly…

"Stop it!"

For all they were hissed, the sharp words penetrated Helena's dream, and she opened her eyes to see Penny at the foot of her bed scowling blackly at Cassandra who sat perched on the end trying, and failing, to look innocent. "You're awake!" she said brightly, quite as if she'd had no hand — or derrière — in rousing her.

Helena groaned. "What time is it?"

"Gone eleven, Sleeping Beauty. We've been up and about for hours."

"Yes, well, you weren't out dancing until three in the morning!"

"No," Cassie agreed. "And that's why you must tell us all about it!"

"I'll ring for tea, shall I?" Penny volunteered, moving toward the bell pull. "Or would you rather chocolate?"

Helena dragged herself up into a sitting position, and, leaning back against the headboard, smiled her thanks. "Tea, please."

"Did you dance every dance?" Cassie said, returning immediately to the attack. "What were your partners like? Was there anyone you particularly liked? Who took you in to supper?"

"Honestly, Cassie!" Penny objected. "You might give Lena a chance to answer!"

Chastened, Cassie subsided, and Helena, to take some of the sting from Penny's scold, treated her to a smile. "Did I dance every dance? No. I had a partner for every dance but I chose to sit two of them out, the first, because it was a gallopade, a dance I heartily dislike, and the other, because my toes were sore from having been stepped on. Luckily, that didn't happen til the next-to-last set." She gave the offended digits an experimental wiggle and flinched.

Penny winced in sympathy. "Still painful?"

"Just a bit. Now, as for partners, let me see… There was Cousin Will, whom you know, and his friend, Walter Flavell." Helena burst into a little laugh. "Oh, how I wish you could have seen him! He's a dear and all enthusiasm but so hopelessly clumsy! We nearly came to grief a dozen times."

She smiled ruefully, remembering, and Cassie, impatient, prompted, "Did you dance with any lords?"

Helena raised her eyebrows. "Why, yes, little Miss Toplofty! I had the honor of being led out by Lord Norton, a baron, Lord Maxwell, a viscount, and Lord Hartshorne, a marquess. Lord Percy Claiborne partnered me in sitting out the gallopade."

At this name, Penny shot Helena a keen look, which Helena returned with the barest nod of her head. Cassie, oblivious, went on, "And what's his title?"

"He doesn't have one, actually. He's a lord by courtesy, as his father is a duke."

"He must not stand to inherit, then, or he'd be a marquess."

"That's right. He has two elder brothers, I believe."

This sufficed to rob Percy of any further interest, and Cassie moved on to inquire, "Was it one of the lords who took you into supper?"

"Lord Hartshorne, yes. And, before you ask, marquess is his courtesy title. He'll be the Duke of Litchfield one day."

Cassie squirmed into a more comfortable position on the bed and sat forward eagerly. "What's he like?"

A knock sounded at the door: the housemaid presenting herself for instructions. Helena was glad of the interruption as, while Penny directed the girl to fetch tea, she had time to consider her reply. The maid having curtsied and gone, her sisters turned back to her, Penny's expression mildly curious and Cassie's, expectant. "Lord Hartshorne is… distinguished. Very self-possessed and… civil. He has impeccable manners and treated me with every courtesy."

Cassie pulled a face. "He sounds a cold fish. Is he old?"

Helena hesitated. "Not really. He's in his thirties. Maybe thirty-four or -five?"

Cassie's eyes rounded with incipient horror. "He's never pot-bellied? Or bald?"

"No," Helena laughed. "Far from it. He's tall and lean, broad across the shoulders and very fit. It comes from his being a sportsman, I gather: hunting, of course, but also fencing and amateur boxing. As for looks, he's not handsome, exactly, but his features are pleasing. He has a full head of wavy chestnut-brown hair, and, you'll be glad to know, all his teeth!" Or so Helena supposed for the sake of the joke, for, in truth, she had yet to see Hartshorne smile.

It was not until Cassie was called away to join Iris, Daphne and their governess on on outing to the park that Helena and Penny could at last speak privately. They were no sooner settled together on the narrow window seat in Helena's room than Penny burst out, "So, you've seen him again! How was he? As you remembered?"

"Oh, Pen!" Helena cupped her hands over her mouth but above her fingertips her eyes were merry. "I was never so embarrassed!"

"Why? Whatever did you do?"

Helena dropped her hands to her lap, and confessed,"I gave myself away! I'd kept a dance free for him, you see, just on the off-chance he might turn up. Not that I had any reason to expect he would, but, you know, 'hope springs eternal.'"

"And was rewarded this time."

"Yes, I had the dance to give him when he asked, but I shouldn't've had one, Pen, that's the rub. My dance card should have been full, and he knew it."

"No! How could he have?"

Helena shook her head. "All I can think is he must have seen me turn two other gentlemen away with that very excuse. They had just withdrawn when he and Lady Callista came up. In any case, when I told him yes, he was, first, so taken aback and then so delighted, I saw he'd worked out — somehow! — that he'd been afforded special treatment. To make matters worse, I promptly confirmed his deduction by blushing to the roots of my hair."

"Oh, Lena! You did not!"

"Well, no, but that's how it felt. I was mortified!"

Penny regarded her anxiously. "He didn't tease you?"

"No," Helena assured her with a smile. "He was the consummate gentleman and didn't remark on my confusion. Later, when he returned for his dance, it was the same: he never once referred to my discomfiture or having caught me out in a fib. It was quite as if my gaffe had never happened, or he'd forgotten all about it."

"That was gallant!"

"Yes, wasn't it? I was so relieved and grateful! We didn't sit, but strolled about the room for the duration of our dance, and all the while he kept the conversation light and easy, asking me how I'd spent my time since arriving in town, whether I were enjoying the Season, my impressions of the palace and the Queen — that sort of thing. If I'd let him, we'd've talked of nothing but me, but I managed to slip in how sorry I'd been to hear of his misfortune at Harebell, and he told me something of the damage to the manor and the challenges he's been facing in getting it rebuilt. He's been horribly unlucky — that inheritance has been more of a bane than a boon! — but he's keeping a positive outlook and is determined to persevere. I admire him for it."

Penny allowed herself a small smile. "So, he didn't disappoint."

"He did not," Helena agreed. "He was just as I remembered: charming, attentive, good-natured. And not just with me. He was very gracious to Mrs. Chatterton, and lent himself to being presented to any young lady left needing a partner."

"But, surely, that's just good manners!"

"So it is, but not everyone was so obliging. Lord Hartshorne, for example: he danced with me, Miss Chatterton, and one other, a Miss Stanhope. In between those dances, he stood talking to acquaintances, or disappeared into the card room."

"How rude!"

Just then, a maid rapped at the door. "Beg pardon, miss, but milady wants you in the drawing room. Miss Penelope, too, if she's inclined."

Penny, at sixteen, was not "out," but, as second eldest, she was allowed to sit in on morning calls provided she did not put herself forward and remained largely mute and inconspicuous. This stricture, which might have proved a trial for other girls, suited Penny to perfection for, without being shy, she was reserved and self-contained, more given to observing people than engaging with them. Nothing pleased her more than to be able to watch and listen while she herself faded into the background, present but unnoticed.

The sisters entered the drawing room to find it perfumed with the sweet scent of flowers and abloom with half a dozen nosegays. The posies varied in size and color, ranging from a dainty bunch of violets courtesy of Lord Norton to a large bouquet of fragrant peonies from Mr. Rutherford, the gentleman who'd had the mischance to tread on Helena's toes, and was, according to the accompanying card, still tormented with remorse. Walter Flavell had sent a gaudy arrangement of mums, and Lord Hartshorne, an elegant one of gardenias. Helena quickly checked the cards of the two remaining nosegays, and was delighted to discover that the one propped up against a bouquet of lily of the valley bore Lord Percy's name.

"Your favorite flower," Penny murmured, as Helena bent her head to the blossoms and breathed in their delicate scent. "A lucky guess on his part. Unless you dropped a hint?"

Helena straightened and smiled. "No, the choice was all his. A good omen, don't you think?"

The first caller of the morning was shown in some moments later, and proved to be Mr. Rutherford, desperate to reassure himself he'd inflicted no serious injury and to apologize again and profusely for his clumsiness. He was succeeded by Lord Maxwell who arrived with an armful of lilacs, and by Mr. Anstruther, who, in lieu of flowers, presented Helena with the volume of his verse she'd expressed polite interest in perusing. Several other of her previous night's partners stopped in, most notably Lord Hartshorne who stayed only long enough to observe the social niceties and to inquire if, weather permitting, he might have the pleasure of driving Helena in Hyde Park the following afternoon. Helena's first impulse was to decline, but one did not refuse a marquess, and, besides, it being always possible Hartshorne might improve upon acquaintance, she felt it incumbent on her not to rush to judgement.

Will Hendred and Walter Flavell were among the last of the day's visitors, and, to Helena's happy surprise, they brought Georgie Harcourt with them. "I had to come!" Georgie said, as, having greeted Venetia, she stood looking about the drawing room. "I knew just how it would be! I said to Will, 'You mark my words: Helena will have been showered with so many posies, she won't know where to put them all!'"

Will stepped forward, a modest nosegay in his hand and a wry smile on his lips. "And here's another for you to find room for."

"Thank you, Will," Helena said, taking the flowers from him. "What a pretty arrangement! And thank you, too, Mr. Flavell." She nodded to where his vibrant mums stood out amongst the pastel-hued bouquets. "Your flowers are out of the common way."

Mr. Flavell, whose spirits had flagged upon noting the quality and abundance of blooms in the room, perked up and beamed. "You like them?"

"How could I not?"

Georgie, who'd been flitting happily from one tribute to another, admiring, inhaling, consulting the cards, stopped short before Lord Percy's offering. "Oh!" she exclaimed in delight, "Lilies of the valley! And my bouquet's identical to yours! Imagine that!"

Helena went still. "You received the same bouquet? From who?"

"Why, from Lord Percy, like you! I confess I was amazed — and greatly flattered — that he thought of me."

"You underrate your charms, George," Will said, half-teasing, half-reproving. "Claiborne wasn't alone in sending you flowers, after all."

"Did I imply he was? I didn't mean to. I had beautiful posies from Walter and Alan but, as they're friends of the family and have always been kind, it was not unexpected. That's all I meant." She dropped onto a chair next to Helena's, and, leaning toward her, confided, "I do like Lord Percy! Don't you? He's ever so amiable and polished. And such a good dancer! He was quite the best partner I had all night!"

"Oh, I say!" Mr. Flavell protested. "I don't deny Claiborne knows his way through the figures, but the man has no flair!"

"Not to your degree, no," Georgie said diplomatically. "But what he lacks in style he makes up for in skill. It's a shame you didn't dance with him, Helena! I'm sure you would have enjoyed it."

"You seem to be assuming," Will said, "that Helena hasn't yet had the pleasure. If you remember, Lady Callista mentioned they were already acquainted."

"I do remember, and, what's more, I asked Lord Percy about it. He said they'd met at a ball in York last winter, and that Helena had been in such great demand, by the time he arrived — and to his keen disappointment — all her dances had been promised. So," she concluded in triumph, "who's the one making assumptions, hmm?"

Will was spared the necessity of a reply by the arrival of none other than the subject of this discussion and his St. Cyr cousins. Lady Callista preceded Lord Devlin and Lord Percy into the room, and, making straight for Venetia, begged pardon for presuming to call so late. "We won't impose for long," she promised, "but we heard such frightful rumors of Helena's being injured — everything from broken toes to a twisted ankle! — we had to satisfy ourselves the reports were overblown." She turned then to Helena, and, seeing her rise, burst out, "Please don't get up! There's no need!"

"I am perfectly well," Helena said, with a reassuring smile. "It's all a to-do over nothing, believe me."

Callie closed the distance between them, and, fixing Helena with a searching look, pressed, "Your foot isn't horribly painful?"

"It's fine!" Helena repeated. "Not even slightly bruised."

Callie's shoulders slumped in relief. "Well, that is welcome news! I was afraid you'd be prevented from visiting the Royal Academy art exhibition with us as planned." Throughout this exchange, Georgie had been standing silently by Helena's side, and now, her anxiety relieved, Callie acknowledged her with a smile. "Miss Harcourt, we meet again! It's my understanding you and Mr. Hendred…" She greeted Will with a nod. "…will be joining our party as well. I am so looking forward to it! Mr. Flavell, good day. We should be glad of your company, too, if you're free."

She moved off to discuss details of time and place with the gentlemen, and, Lord Devlin having stopped to converse with Venetia, Lord Percy took advantage to cross the room to Helena and Georgie. "Miss Damerel," he said, smiling into her eyes, and inclining his head in hello. "Are you, as I hope, really and truly recovered? You're not putting on a brave face for the world and suffering in silence?"

His playful tone invited Helena to laugh with him, but she found herself replying stiffly, "I appreciate your concern, my lord, but, as I said, I am not at all hurt."

His smile faltered at this chilly reception, and a question flashed in his eyes before he recovered his aplomb and turned to Georgie. "Miss Harcourt. It's a pleasure to see you again. Did you enjoy the rest of last evening's ball? It's being hailed as one of the Season's best so far."

"Oh, yes!" Georgie gushed. "I had the most marvelous time! And, as I was just telling Helena, one of the highlights for me was the quadrille we danced together. I enjoyed it very much."

Percy smiled and executed a mock-formal bow. "As did I."

"And I'm so glad to have this chance," she rushed on, "to thank you for the beautiful flowers you sent me. You can've had no idea, but I have always been partial to lily of the valley, and so that made receiving them a double delight."

"I must echo Georgie's thanks," Helena put in, again in a voice so cool, she cringed inwardly to hear it. She knew she was being ill-mannered and upbraided herself for it, but even so she felt powerless to stop. "The flowers are, indeed, very lovely," she continued, in a tone so flat, she sounded anything but appreciative.

Percy regarded her intently a long moment, a frown of light bewilderment creasing his brow. He cast a look about to his right and left as if seeking a clue to her conduct and, his gaze landing on Rutherford's peonies and Hartshorne's gardenias, he turned back to Helena, a glint of understanding in his eyes. "I'm gratified you like them," he said, affecting an easy manner. "They're humble flowers, not showy or exotic like hothouse blooms, and a good many people disdain them on that account. I'm glad you and Miss Harcourt are not of their number, and appreciate their simple beauty."

Helena felt her cheeks prickle with heat and was so vexed with Percy for judging her a snob and with herself for giving him grounds, she could have stamped her foot in frustration. She couldn't immediately hit on how to defend, excuse or explain herself, and, while she floundered, Devlin came over to join them. He launched directly into a handsome apology for having failed to accompany his sister and cousin on their previous calls, explaining an investigation into a series of thefts, now satisfactorily concluded, had consumed much of his time. Helena introduced Devlin to Georgina, and her cousin goggled so plainly on seeing his strange yellow eyes, she might, under happier circumstances, have found it almost comical. They chatted politely for a time of the opera and the theatre, of the Queen's upcoming birthday and the celebrations set to mark it, and then, Callie remarking on the advancing hour, the threesome made their farewells and departed. Georgina, Will and Walter Flavell took their own leave soon after.

"Well!" Venetia said with evident satisfaction. "That went very well, indeed! You handled yourself beautifully, my love," she said, enfolding Helena in a warm embrace. "I couldn't be more proud."

The praise, being undeserved, smote Helena's conscience but, not wanting to spoil her mother's pleasure, she said nothing of her lapse in civility. With Penny, however, she had no such option; her sister was far too observant to have missed her indefensible behavior, and Penny confirmed as much once she and Helena were closeted again behind closed doors. "You were curt with Lord Percy, Lena," she said, not in censure but more as a sad statement of fact.

"I know!" Helena moaned, dropping her face in her hands. "I can't think what possessed me!"

Penny didn't answer until, the silence lengthening, Helena looked up and met her sister's gaze. "Can't you?" Penny prodded. "Really?"

Helena let out a gusty sigh. "All right! It was wounded vanity. I thought — well, you know! — that I was special to him, and then to learn that he not only sent Georgie flowers, but the very same posey! It was a blow to my pride."

"And you punished him for it."

"Yes," she said, glumly. "I was unreasonable and childish." She sighed again. "I shall have to apologize, somehow." She turned her head and sat staring blankly into the middle distance. Penny could be forgiven for assuming that Helena was thinking how best to make her excuses, but when she spoke again, it was to ask in a small voice, "Do you think he really likes Georgie?"

Caught off-guard, Penny answered without thinking,"He can't help but do so. She has such a sweet nature."

"No! That is, yes, she does," Helena amended quickly, "but what I meant was… does he like her better than me?"

"Oh, Lena!" Penny crossed to her sister, and, climbing onto the bed beside her, wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "Georgie's a wonderful girl, and I love her dearly, but she doesn't hold a candle to you! Shall I tell you what I observed today? Lord Percy had eyes only for you. You are special to him, dearest, the flowers he sent to Georgie — and, for all I know, every other girl he danced with — notwithstanding."

Helena regarded her hopefully. "Do you really think so?"

"I'm as certain as can be, and, as you know, when it comes to reading people, I am rarely ever wrong, so you may trust me. You have nothing to worry about."

A/N: Comments and feedback would be very welcome. Thanks in advance.