Helena grew solemn. “Just promise me that you know what you are doing,” she said, holding his gaze.
“I can’t promise that. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I am doing.”
“You are playing a risky game right now, especially spending time with Lady Enid,” Helena advised. “I have no doubt that when Father hears you are spending time with Lady Enid that he will grow irate.”
Greydon nodded his acknowledgement. “I can handle Father.”
“I hope that is true.”
Rising, Helena smoothed down her black gown and asked, “If I may be so bold, why Lady Enid?”
“Pardon?”
“I don’t think I can make my question any simpler,” Helena said. “Why are you showing attentions to Lady Enid?”
Greydon pursed his lips together. “If you must know, I am not pursuing Lady Enid,” he replied. “She was the one who asked me to investigate Phineas’ murder. She is adamant that Lady Eugenie is innocent.”
“Yet you indulged her request.”
“Not at first, but I have since come around,” Greydon said.
Helena considered him for a moment, and he was afraid of what she might be seeing. In an inquisitive tone, she asked, “Am I to assume you hold no affection towards Lady Enid?”
“None,” he lied.
“But you are doing her bidding?” Helena pressed.
Greydon shook his head. “I daresay you are reading too much into this.”
“Am I?”
Before he could reply, Helena continued. “As riveting as this conversation is, I must depart before Father wakes up.”
“You will be seeing him at the funeral,” Greydon reminded her.
Helena grimaced. “Do not remind me. I have no doubt he will say as few words as possible to me.”
“Most likely.”
Walking over to him, Helena leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Just be careful, Brother. Even you aren’t invincible.”
“I never claimed to be.”
“But your actions say otherwise.” Helena spun on her heel and departed from the room.
Greydon walked back over to the desk and sat down. He glanced up at the long clock in the corner and wondered how much longer he should wait before calling upon Lady Enid. He wanted to keep her informed of the ongoing investigation. At least that is what he was telling himself. He wanted to see her again. And that was the problem. It was always the problem.
Enid held Marigold in her arms as they strolled through the gardens. It was a bright, sunny day and there was not a cloud in sight. The flowers were in full bloom this time of year and the fragrant smell of roses wafted through the wind.
She lifted her head to the sky and took a deep breath. She was happy being back home. This is where she belonged, even if her father went out of his way to make her feel unwelcome. Most importantly, this is where Marigold deserved to be. She was an innocent in all of this, and Enid would fight for her daughter. She had to. That was her job as Marigold’s mother.
Enid watched her mother approach from the townhouse with a purposeful stride. It wasn’t long before her mother stopped next to her and said, “Lord Rushcliffe has arrived and has been shown into the drawing room.”
A familiar twinge of excitement flowed through her at those words. “Oh, I hadn’t expected him so early,” she said, hoping her words didn’t reveal her excitement at seeing him again.
Her mother, always the dignified one, clasped her hands in front of her. “You two have been spending a lot of time together as of late.” Her words weren’t accusatory, but they merely stated a fact.
“Have we?” Enid asked innocently. “I’m afraid I haven’t noticed.”
