He raised his eyebrows but went out into the hall. Clara stood there, her dark hair pinned up neatly, her Pomona green gown setting off her eyes to considerable advantage.
“Clara,” he said. “I did not expect to see you again so soon. What brings you here?”
“Our mutual friend. Lady Helena. I saw her yesterday and she told me everything about your adventure.”
He gestured to a chair. “I understand you are her dearest friend. Is that why you are here?”
“Indeed. I wish to ensure that no harm comes to her.”
“”“”“”“”“”
“I would never harm her. I was close to her father.”
“So I heard.” Her eyes drifted to the paper in his hand. “What is that?”
He turned the paper away so she could not continue to look at it.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? I thought I saw names on the list. Pray, is that the list of suitors or are you writing out your Christmas wish list early?
He rolled his eyes. “I compiled a list of suitors for Lady Helena.”
“Let me see.” She held out her hand, making it clear she would brook no argument.
He glanced down and handed it to her.
She pressed her lips together and her eyes moved swiftly over the page. “Do you have a pencil?” He retrieved one from the drawer and handed it over. She crossed out names with brisk, practiced confidence.
“Lord Alcott is far too high on the instep — he would never lower himself to court Helena seriously. Sir William Jackson has a roving eye. Lord Fillmore is quite out of the question.”
“He is a widower, as she is,” Gideon said. “And a baron?—”
“Even before he was a widower, he had a woman in every corner of England. He is loose in the haft and always has been. I will not have her married to another man of that sort.” She paused. “Again.”
“Again?” he said. “I knew nothing of Lord Vale’s character. I had assumed him an honourable man.”
“You know nothing of her husband at all, do you,” Clara said — not quite a question. She handed back the list. Seven names were gone. There was a question mark beside Lord Whitcombe, whom they were to meet that very day, with the notationdo not know this gentleman. A similar note appeared beside one other name.
“Is there something I should know?” he asked. It was clear to him already that Vale hadn’t been a good husband, but he was growing concerned over the possibility that there might have been more to this.
“Only that Huxley Graham, the previous Baron Vale, was a thoroughly bad husband, in every way,” Clara said. “”
““He mistreated her?”
Clara looked away. “I have already said too much. This is not my tale to tell. Sufficient to say they were ill matched. And his family is not much better, as they have not supported her in the least since her husband’s death.” “”’“”
“She receives no support from the family at all? The child is a legitimate Vale.”
“None..” Clara fixed him with a direct look. “Do not tell her I told you any of this. She specifically asked me not to.”
He nodded. “The present Lord Vale is shirking his moral obligations, then.”
“Entirely. I thought you ought to know what Helena is truly up against.” She rose. “I understand you have been making some progress on her behalf. And I am glad of it. But I shall also be watching.”
“I would expect nothing less,” he said. He glanced at the remaining names. “You do not know anything further about Whitcombe?”
“Only that he is top of the trees in terms of pedigree — comes from a long line of Earls, and will be the seventh holder of the title when the time comes. Not a bad match at all.”
