Page 11 of The Duchess Debt

Helena had been devastated. She’d wanted to crawl into bed and never come out. But her sisters insisted that she couldn’t let the gossips win. That she deserved to find another husband as wonderful—or more so—than Gabe. That she needed to return to society as soon as possible and encourage a slew of new suitors.

Reluctantly, she’d done as they’d advised and ventured out to Vauxhall, to picture galleries, to operas and the theatre—to all the places that didn’t require an invitation, as if her heart hadn’t been destroyed…as if she hadn’t heard that Clarissa was alreadyenceinteand remaining in the countryside for her confinement with a dedicated Gabe at her side.

None of Helena’s efforts had worked. Few of her previous acquaintances rekindled their friendships, and of the half-dozen men who had attempted to court her, none of them let her forget that they were doing her a favor by daring to dance attention on her, even as they were shamelessly forward to the point that shelet them call only when at least two of her sisters were present. The last bits of her pride—and her heart—were irreparably shredded when she learned that her would-be suitors had come calling only to win a bet in the book at White’s. The first man to provide irrefutable proof that he had bedded the Sinful Sinfell would win a shilling.

“No matter that the rumors weren’t true,” Helena whispered. No matter that not one shred of evidence existed to confirm what the sniping old harpies claimed about her in their drawing rooms and the gossipy men in their clubs…I’d become a social outcast. A pariah.“I’d become completely unmarriable in the eyes of society.”

“I am so sorry, my dear.” Verity’s voice emerged as a sorrowful murmur. “It…could not be helped.”

Helena gaped at her.Could not be…“Why not?” she demanded breathlessly.

Verity hesitated, then shook her head. “It isn’t my place to say.”

“And Gabriel?” She blinked furiously now to keep traitorous tears from falling. “Why won’t he tell me? I thought he loved me.”

“Very much.”

She managed to choke out past the knot in her throat, “Not enough.”

“He did love you, I promise.”

Past tense.The humiliation of her situation ripped through her with the force of an arctic wind. Helena sank into the bed and squeezed her eyes shut.

“But now, none of that matters.” Verity sat beside her and wrapped her arm around Helena’s shoulders. “Fate has given you a second chance.” She placed a motherly kiss to Helena’s temple. “If you could only find it in your heart to accept him as the man he is now, then…”

Helena finished quietly, “Then perhaps my marriage won’t be a completely miserable one?” She gazed at Verity through tear-blurred eyes and admitted the heart-wrenching truth, “He’s only marrying me out of pity.”

“That isnottrue.”

She shook her head. “All those rules and stipulations today at the solicitor’s… He still thinks I’m not good enough to be a duchess. All the gossips said so. So did his best friend and his own brother.”Right to my face.All the years that followed had given her no reason to believe anything different.

“Gabriel paid no attention to any of them, andespeciallynot to Adam.” Verity muttered his brother’s name beneath her breath and reached to squeeze Helena’s hands. “He wants everything in writing between you simply because he does not want to repeat the same mistakes that happened with Clarissa.” Verity’s mouth pressed into an aggravated line. “But the foolish manisgoing about it all wrong, I’ll grant you.”

“What mistakes?”

Shaking her head, Verity rose from the bed and crossed the room to the mahogany dressing table with its large triptych of mirrors and mother-of-pearl inlay meant to resemble a continuation of the wisteria vine from the fireplace. “You will have to speak to Gabriel yourself about that.” She focused her attention on straightening Helena’s toiletry set. “I cannot share anything more.”

Anything more?She’d shared practically nothing at all. “Please.” Helena followed after her. “I need to know—”

A movement in the doorway caught her attention.Alice.

A little girl stood in the hallway and peered into the room with all the lack of subtlety that only a snooping four-year-old could possess. She stood half-hidden behind the door with one eye staring out from behind the frame, reminding Helena of anostrich who thought its head in the sand meant no one could see the rest of it.

Despite her frustrations with Gabe, a laugh bubbled on Helena’s lips, and she smiled at the little girl.

“Hello, there,” she called out to her. “Please come in.”

The little girl hesitated, as if contemplating bolting at being caught, then stepped slowly into the room. Her eyes went immediately to her aunt, to judge if she truly had permission to interrupt, then darted back to Helena. She was too curious about her not to stare.

“I’m Helena,” she introduced, breaching all propriety with such informality. But what was the point of being formal? She was going to be the girl’s new mother soon enough. “And you must be…” When Alice said nothing, Helena playfully guessed, “Mrs. Brimley, the housekeeper!”

Alice’s eyes widened, uncertain how to take this strange woman in the midst of her home.

“No? Then you’re my new maid Simmons.” She gave an exaggerated clucking of her tongue as she cast a glance over the girl from head to toe. “I must admit I expected you to be taller. I’m not certain how you’ll be able to reach to fix my hair.”

A smile tugged at her lips as she realized Helena was bamming her.

“Not Simmons either, hmm?” Helena snapped her fingers as if the answer were obvious. “You’re Mr. Larkin, the butler!”