Page 56 of To Dance with a Devil

“I wonder what he said to her,” Minerva said, biting her lip.

“I don’t,” Helena replied, taking a sip of her lemonade and wishing she could drink champagne like the married ladies. “It’s obvious enough.”

Minerva sighed. “I know. I worry for her.”

“Not as much as she worries for herself, I’ll wager. The air fairly crackles when the two of them are in the same room.”

“Is Mr Burton here?” Minerva asked, looking around.

“I’ve not seen him.” Helena watched a waiter go by, a silver tray filled with glasses of champagne held aloft. “Curse it, I hate being a lady. I wish I’d been born a man.”

Minerva looked at her with amusement. “I think it’s too late to change your mind,” she said, her lips quirking as she took in Helena’s costume.

Helena had come as Eve. Her gown was perfectly respectable, though so well fitted it highlighted her assets in a manner that had pleased her and brought her many compliments this evening. It was a heavy white satin dress, trimmed all over with silken fig leaves, most especially in the appropriate areas. A faux red apple, studded with glittering red jewels hung from a ribbon at her wrist and a silken snake coiled about her waist and up over her shoulder, its red forked tongue arrowing out in the direction of her décolletage. Her brother, Robert, had almost had an apoplexy when he’d seen her. It was always the mark of a successful outfit.

Helena huffed out a laugh. “Doesn’t it make you wild, though? All the things nice young ladies do and don’t do? Sometimes I feel so… so constricted I want to scream.”

“Is your corset too tight?” Minerva asked, her expression the picture of innocent enquiry. “Or is that snake squeezing you to death?”

“Wretch,” Helena replied, knowing she was being teased. “Don’t you know what I mean?”

“Of course I do!” Minerva exclaimed, giving Helena a look of pure exasperation. “Honestly, Helena. You have a deal more freedom than the rest of us. The daughter and sister of a duke can get away with things that would cause us lesser mortals to fall off the edge of polite society into an abyss. My position is far more tenuous that yours, and look at poor Jemima. She’s so close to the edge I fear she’ll slip any day now.”

Helena nodded, a wash of shame rolling over her. “That’s true. Did you see that dress she was wearing the other day? It was clear she’d turned the cuffs, and it was so far out of style. Oh, you’re right, of course you are. I’m spoiled and headstrong, and yet I’m so… so bored! Poor, poor me. Rich and popular and spoiled, how tragic.”

Minerva gave her a sympathetic smile and linked their arms together. “You need an interest,” she said firmly. “Something to occupy your mind, to challenge you. Take me, for example. I’ve discovered I’m not quite as hen-witted as I supposed. In fact, I have the most fascinating book on chemistry if you care to borrow it. I’m even going to a lecture. You can come if you want….”

Helena was aware that Minerva had stopped talking and was watching her intently but could do nothing to redirect the focus of her gaze nor to curb the smile that she felt tug at her lips.

“What?” Minerva asked, following her line of vision to look across the ballroom. “What is it that’s so captured your attention?”

“That thing you said about having something to challenge me, to occupy my mind,” Helena murmured, her eyes fixed on the far side of the ballroom.

“Oh dear,” Minerva said, her voice faint. “That’s Gabriel Knight.”

“Yes,” Helena replied, grinning. “I know.”

“Oh, but, Helena, no. Your brother… if he had the slightest idea….”

Helena tore her gaze away and glared at Minerva.

“Oh, no!” Minerva squeaked, alarmed. “I wouldn’t dare, but it’ll get about if you so much as dance with him. He wants to gain a foothold in the ton, everyone knows it. His only option is to marry well, but he’s too proud to make himself agreeable, so he puts everyone’s backs up.”

Helena felt her curiosity, already piqued, flare to life. “How fascinating,” she murmured.

“Oh, Helena, no,” Minerva pleaded. “Robert will be furious. They don’t like each other. How do you not know this?”

The more Minerva spoke, the more determined Helena became to get better acquainted with Mr Knight. He was proud, ruthless, and her brother didn’t like him. What an irresistible combination. She looked him over, considering all the other reasons that would make him a fascinating conquest. He was tall and lean, ruggedly handsome, with a strong jaw, a cleft in his chin, a firm set to his mouth that hinted at a stubborn streak a mile wide, and dark, dark eyes. Helena suppressed a shiver.

She had plenty of beaus fawning over her, writing her poetry morning, noon, and night and comparing her to Helen of Troy or waxing lyrical about her green eyes, likening them to emeralds or spring leaves or some such nonsense. Pretty saps, the lot of them. Oh there were one or two who were nice enough, possible husband material if she were desperate, but not one of them stirred her interest, and not one of them offered her a challenge. Now, to have a man like Gabriel Knight fall at her feet… that would be a conquest.

“Come along,” Helena said, taking Minerva’s arm and strolling in a leisurely fashion around the perimeter of the ballroom.

Minerva sighed. “I do understand the fascination, the desire for something you know you ought not want,” she said to Helena, her voice low, and there was a note to it that made Helena look at her a little more closely. She did understand, all too well, if Helena was any judge. Well, well. “All the same, do have a care, Helena. He’s not… well, they say he’s not an indoor cat.”

Helena paused and then burst out laughing, causing everyone around them to stop and stare at her. Minerva flushed scarlet, though Helena couldn’t care less; she was a duke’s daughter, after all.

“Whatever do you mean, not an indoor cat?” she asked in an undertone.