Page 113 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

Helena lifted her brows. “Because I have gone to the press?”

“You’ve exposed yourself. Made yourself an object of ridicule. It was badly done.” He frowned at her. “You’d have done better to come to me.”

“You? Why on earth would I have done that?”

“You father was my oldest friend. Granted, I’ve not been a fixture in your life these many years, but you might have sought me out as a courtesy. I flatter myself that I still have some influence.”

Helena inclined her head. “A great deal of influence, my lord. But this was an issue of madness.”

He gave a disdainful grunt. “An issue of greed, more like. You forget, I knew your uncle when he was a lad. He was a conniving opportunist at the best of times. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Had you come to me, I might have intervened.”

Was it true? Would he have helped her? Helena tended to doubt it. “How was I to know you wouldn’t have adjudged me mad yourself? You advised my father to have my mother committed to a private asylum. There was every chance you would recommend the same fate for me.”

“Your mother?” Lord Wolverton scowled. “You were a child. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know my mother had a sadness in her,” Helena said quietly. “But she didn’t deserve to be put away because of it.”

“It was more than a sadness, madam. It was melancholia of the blackest kind. She wouldn’t rise from her bed. She refused to eat or to drink. Neglected to tend to her most basic needs. Your father consulted the best physicians. They advised a warmer climate, but when he took her to the continent, she worsened. The asylum was his last resort.”

Helena sat back in her seat, stunned. She’d never heard any of this before. She had no recollection of how her mother had behaved when still living at home. She’d been far too young. Her only memories were of her mother in the asylum, listless and unresponsive, with lank hair and skin the color of parchment. “How do you know I don’t suffer the same symptoms?”

“Your mother’s condition was evident in her eyes—in the pallor of her skin. Had you the same illness, you couldn’t disguise it. Not when you’re out every evening at the theatre or a ball. It would be plain for all to see.”

“It wasn’t evident to Lord Flood or Sir Bernard or to any other of the gentleman I went to for help when my uncle first began to torment me. I told them he was trying to get me to sign over my inheritance—that he was making threats. Not a one of them wished to advocate on my behalf.”

“Why would they? Your uncle is in debt to each of them—and God knows how many others. Their only hope of repayment is if he takes control of your fortune. They’d hardly have worked to prevent him doing so.”

An embarrassed flush heated her cheeks. She’d approached those men so earnestly. So desperately. They must have thought her an absolute fool. “How was I to know to whom he’s in debt?”

“Such information is common knowledge.”

“Among gentlemen, perhaps.”

“Which is why you should have consulted with me.” Lord Wolverton looked at Justin. “You’re her husband. Couldn’t you have advised her against this course?”

“I encouraged her.”

“Did you, by God!” Lord Wolverton’s expression turned thunderous. “To what end, sir? Do you seek to isolate her from her friends? To strengthen your hold on her fortune?”

Justin’s jaw hardened. “What friends? When she came to me, she was alone and frightened. She had no one to protect her.”

“Not from you, certainly. How long before you wed her? A month? A week?”

“My husband didn’t know of my fortune when we married,” Helena objected.

“He’s accounted for it now, I’ll wager. Down to the last penny. I’d expect nothing less from a man of his origins.” Lord Wolverton’s lip curled. “Oh yes, I’ve investigated that taradiddle about your having served with Lady Helena’s brother. A load of rubbish, all of it. I don’t know what you’re playing at, sir, but I warn you—”

“You warn me?” Justin repeated. “You, a man who hasn’t lifted a finger on her behalf?”

“Should I have followed your example and embroiled her in the scandal of the season? Of the decade?”

“At least I’ve made an effort to free her from this tangle. What have you done, Wolverton? Besides coming here to lecture her after the fact.”

“Had I known—”

“You know now,” Justin said sharply. “What do you intend to do about it?”

The atmosphere in the small parlor fairly crackled with tension as the two men glared at each other. Helena held her breath.