“And about Cassandra.”
He rolled his eyes. “He may say what he wishes about Cassandra. But I will not have him dragging Helena into any of it. It is beneath contempt.”
James smiled. “You know, I do not fully understand why you are so invested in finding Lady Helena a husband. But I wonder whether your motivations are selfless.”
“And what, pray, do you mean by that?”
“Only that by investing yourself in her future and her matrimonial happiness, you do not have to think about your own.”
“I am not seeking matrimonial happiness. I have been down that road.”
“You have been down that road,” James said, “but with the wrong woman. Your relationship with Cassandra was never easy. I think perhaps you were simply so determined to leave your old ways behind that you did it in rather too much of a hurry and with the wrong person. I blame myself somewhat — if I had not been so occupied with my own affairs at the time, I might have seen from the beginning that she was not right for you. By the time I got to know her, you were already too far in.”
Gideon shrugged. It was true enough. James had been caught up in his own complicated courtship with Miss Frances Langley — now his wife and the happiest thing that had ever happened to him, though nobody would have predicted it from the beginning. One would never know it now, seeing them together, but the early days had been difficult, and James had had precious little attention to spare for his friend’s affairs. And so Gideon had met Cassandra in the thick of it all, and being with her had, for a time, felt like something being restored to him.
Looking back, he could see it plainly enough. He had fallen for her first because of her beauty — the way her laugh sounded, the way she moved through a room. Then he had fallen harder because she seemed to share every one of his interests. She enjoyed the same books, the same music, the same pastimes. She had even claimed an interest in fencing, which he had thought extraordinary.
Of course, once it was all over, he had understood the truth. Every shared interest had been a performance. She had pretended to be exactly the woman he wanted, and he had been fool enough to believe it. He had not told anyone that — not even James — because the humiliation of it was more than he could stomach putting into words. He still remembered finding her diary after she had gone. Reading, in her own hand, what a fool she thought him. How easy he had been to deceive.
“How long are you going to carry the weight of that marriage?” James asked.
“I am not carrying it,” he said. “If anything, I am grateful to her. She opened my eyes. Love and marriage are not for me. When I eventually do marry, and I suppose I must, for the sake of an heir. it will be a matter of convenience and nothing more. Both parties will understand that from the outset. No misconceptions.”
“So you intend to marry purely for an heir and meanwhile continue in your usual ways.”
“They are not usual ways. Everyone who knows me understands what I am. I have no wish to discuss it further.”
“I see.” James was quiet for a moment. “You still have not answered my question, though. About Helena. Whether all of this is simply a distraction.”
“It is not,” he said. “I made a promise to her father.”
“To protect her.”
“Yes. To look after her.”
“To protect her from men who would use her ill.”
“Of course,” he said. He turned to look out of the window, because James was precisely the type of man who could see through him at twenty paces, and he had already told enough lies in this conversation to be going on with.
“I cannot shake the feeling,” James said mildly, “that there is considerably more to this story than you are telling.”
“I cannot help you if you insist upon finding conspiracies where there are none,” Gideon replied.
Silence fell between them as the carriage rolled on toward James’s townhouse, where they would take dinner with Frances. Where, once again, Gideon would have to manage the familiarsensation of being a man standing slightly outside a happiness he did not quite belong to. He had allowed himself that illusion once — that he might have something like what James had. A home with warmth in it. A woman who was glad to see him at the end of the day. Children they could both adore.
He understood now that this was not for him. But he could believe in it for others. He could believe in it for Helena — who was gentle and clever and had been very ill used by life. For her sake, he would make certain that something better found her.
* * *
The following morning, Gideon finished his correspondence with something approaching satisfaction. He had found another suitor. One he thought considerably more promising, and more importantly, one who had not come off Nathaniel’s list. After the business with Sir Franklin, he was not entirely confident that Nathaniel’s intelligence was still reliable.
He sat back. He had an hour before he needed to set off to see Helena. The prospect sat somewhat heavily. The encounter at the club had occupied his thoughts all evening, and what James had said in the carriage had occupied them further still. He had barely slept. Thoughts of Cassandra and Helena had chased each other around his head for most of the night — anger at the one and something less easily named at the thought of the other.
He had risen early and made a list. He had gone through every eligible gentleman he knew, checked it against Nathaniel’s list, then created something resembling a ranking. Men who wereclose in age to Helena went to the top. Those who were eager to marry went to the top. Those who were not particular about rank or fortune went to the top. Those who required a large dowry went firmly to the bottom.
When he was done he had ten names he felt confident about and five that were more of a reach.
He was just preparing himself to leave when Jenkins appeared in the doorway. “Your Grace, you have a caller. Lady Clara Hampshire.”
