Lavinia’s giggle, carrying from somewhere nearby, directed him toward the sculpture garden, where he found her sitting astride a marble horse while Helena held her firmly upright. Helena was laughing, her face bright and open, and the morning sun lit up her auburn hair until it looked almost entirely red.
“Helena,” he called.
“Giddy!” Lavinia exclaimed, waving with such enthusiasm that she wobbled dangerously until Helena caught her and lifted her off the horse.
“Gideon. There you are.” Helena settled Lavinia on her hip. “Have you taken breakfast?”
The porridge sat in his stomach like ballast, but he was not going to tell her that. “Yes. Very good. And you — in your chambers?”
“We did. Lavinia at eleven months is a very messy eater. One of these days I shall have to begin teaching her table manners.”
“You know,” he said, “you do not need to manage all of that on your own anymore. Now that you are Duchess, you have access to a governess if you wish. And piano teachers, tutors — whatever she may need in time.”
She nodded. “Her father had suggested a governess. We were in the process of trying to find someone suitable when—” she waved a hand. He knew what she meant. “In any case — it would be good to have someone who can help with her, particularly as I shall need to get to know the village and the estate properly.”
“I can advertise inThe Ladyif that would help.”
“I would like that very much. Although—” she considered “— Mrs. Strom might know someone already.”
“An excellent thought.” He smiled. “Did you find your meeting with her useful?”
“Very. She is a remarkable woman. I am to meet with her again later so she can walk me through the running of the estate.” She paused. “I have some experience of household management, though nothing on this scale.”
“You will do wonderfully,” he said. “Truly. I am certain of it.” He hesitated, then pressed on. “I know that our arrangement is peculiar, and a great deal to adjust to. But I mean to be a good husband and a good father figure to Lavinia, as much as she will allow me.”
She smiled, but looked away, and he could not quite read what lay behind it.
“There is something else I wanted to mention,” he said, moving on before the silence could settle between them. “The house. I was walking this morning and was reminded how thoroughly I dislike much of the furnishings.”
Her shoulders dropped with what appeared to be profound relief. “I am so glad you said that. There are several pieces I noticed yesterday that I found quite appalling — but I did not want to presume.”
“I think we have established that you and I agree on a great many things,” he said. “And it seems the interior design of Blackthorne is simply one more of them.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Perhaps this afternoon we could walk the halls together — after I meet with Mrs. Strom.”
“I would like that very much. I have a meeting with the steward this morning, but afterward I am at your disposal.”
They parted ways, and as he walked toward the study he was not certain how he felt. He was glad they had found something to work on together. But her reaction to his declaration about being a good husband had been cooler than he had hoped.
He resolved, as he walked, not to be a fool again. He was not going to fall for a woman who was not going to love him back. Not that he was comparing Helena to Cassandra — there were miles between the two of them, in every possible respect. But Helena had made her position very clear, and she was a woman who meant what she said. He would do well to remember it.
Even if, with every passing day, that resolution was becoming considerably harder to keep.
CHAPTER 22
HELENA
Helena left her meeting with Mrs. Strom feeling considerably more confident than she had expected to.
The estate was large, but its management was not, in its essential shape, so very different from what she had done at Vale. The main distinction was one of scale, and of expectation — as they were new to the area and new to the house, there was no pressure to host dinners or balls for some months yet, which simplified matters considerably.
Mary had taken Lavinia upstairs for her nap, and Helena went in search of Gideon.
She found him in the portrait gallery, standing quite still in front of one of the paintings. The afternoon light came through the tall windows and caught him at an angle that made him look not unlike one of the statues in the sculpture garden, though rather less pale, and with considerably more evidence of life about him.
“There you are,” he said, turning at once. “Are you ready?”
“I am — but first, will you introduce me to this gentleman?” She nodded toward the portrait. “He seems to have captured your attention rather thoroughly.”
