Page 25

"It is Lady Theodora, Your Grace," Mr. Gibbs replied smoothly, a faint glint of warmth appearing in his old eyes, knowing the high esteem in which his mistress held the lady.

A wide smile instantly broke across Helena's face, lighting up her pale features. The sudden arrival of her dearest, most trusted confidante felt like a miraculous gift from heaven; a desperately needed sanctuary from the heavy, brooding atmosphere of the manor.

"Fetch Mrs. Gable at once, Gibbs," Helena commanded joyfully, setting her embroidery hoop carefully aside on a small wicker table.

Mr. Gibbs left immediately, but once he was out of sight, Helena's impatience skyrocketed. She stood up, smoothing the front of her dress, and stepped toward the open doors that led into the house, calling out into the hallway. "Mrs. Gable! Please come to the porch this instant!"

The burly, kind-faced nursemaid hurried out onto the terrace within moments, wiping her hands on her clean white apron as she curtsied low before Helena. "Yes, Your Grace? Is the little master awake?"

"He is sleeping soundly, Mrs. Gable." "I am heading to the drawing room to receive a guest. You are to sit right beside this cradle and not leave his side for a single second. Keep the woolen blanket draped over him to shield from the afternoon breeze, and if he so much as stirs or whimpers, fetch me immediately. Do you understand?" Helena instructed firmly.

"I understand completely, Your Grace," Mrs. Gable assured her warmly, taking her seat beside the cradle with a dutiful nod. "I shall watch over Lord Oliver as if he were my own flesh and blood."

Satisfied, Helena turned and swept swiftly through the hallways, her velvet skirts rustling softly. She hurried toward the morning drawing room, pushing open the double doors to find Theodora standing near the windows, admiring a porcelain vase filled with late-blooming autumn roses. Theodora was dressed in an exquisite promenade dress of deep plum silk, a fashionable matching bonnet adorned with ribbons resting gracefully atop her blonde curls.

"Theodora!" Helena cried out, rushing forward with open arms.

Theodora turned instantly, a radiant laugh escaping her lips as she caught Helena in an affectionate embrace before stepping back to inspect her friend. "You miss another meeting and I might have to come here with a doctor to confirm you are well."

Helena laughed softly, the sound feeling strangely foreign in her own ears after days of heavy silence. "I do hope it never comes to that."

Theodora's perceptive ears instantly noticed something was amiss as she could hear the weariness within. She held Helena at arm's length, her smile fading as she subjected the Duchess to a rigorous examination. She noted the subtle hollows beneath Helena's eyes, the tight tension in her shoulders, and the absence of her usual vibrant luster.

Theodora's expression turned gravely serious, her brow furrowing with deep concern. "Helena, you are less full of smiles than the day you lost your family's fortune. Has another sore misfortune befallen you or are you unwell? Or... could it be that Oliver is smitten with the same illness that plagued his parents?!"

"No! Good heavens, no, Theodora!" Helena interrupted hastily, placing a reassuring hand over her friend's wrist to stem her rising panic. "Oliver is in perfect health. He is sleeping peacefully on the terrace this very moment under the nursemaid's watchful eye. Please, do not give yourself such terrible frights."

Theodora let out a sigh of relief, placing a hand over her chest as she shook her head. "Thank the Almighty for that," she murmured softly. "You gave me a frightful turn, Helena. But if the child is thriving, then pray tell me what dreadful shadow has settled over your heart? You look as though you have been carrying the weight of the entire ton upon your shoulders."

Helena looked into her friend's warm, honest face, feeling the burden of secrecy pressing painfully against her chest. She gestured toward the plush sofa. "Sit with me, Theodora. I fear... I fear I am in dire need of a friend's counsel."

Four young housemaids stepped inside carrying a silver tray loaded with an elaborate afternoon tea service. The maids placed the silver teapot, delicate china cups, a jug of sweet cream, and a bowl of sugar cubes upon the low table between the two ladies. Beside the tea service, they set down silver tiered stands filled with warm cucumber sandwiches, freshly baked almond biscuits, and delicate berry tarts dusted with powdered sugar.

Helena waited in silence while the servants poured the steaming tea into the porcelain cups, passing them to the ladies along with linen napkins.

"That will be all, Mary. We shall serve ourselves," Helena instructed gently, waiting until the maids bowed low and withdrew from the room, clicking the doors shut behind them.

Theodora picked up her cup, taking a sip before setting it back onto its saucer, her sharp gaze fixed on Helena. "Now, my dear Duchess, speak freely. We are entirely alone, and you know your words are as safe with me as if they were buried in the earth."

Helena stared down at the dark tea in her porcelain cup, her fingers trembling slightly as she finally let down her guard. "It is the whispers, Theodora."

"The servants... the Duke overheard two housemaids speaking the most vicious slander about my standing in this house. They claim that George looks upon me with indifference, that I avoid his touch like a plague, and that our marriage is nothing more than a hollow, temporary transaction. They believe I am holding the seat of Duchess only until George tires of me." Her breath hitched in her throat, but she forced herself onward. "They are not the only ones. I have heard the same from well-off matrons." And from my own heart. How much longer can I ignore them all?

Theodora gasped quietly, setting her teacup down with a sharp clatter. "How monstrous! Servants' tongues are notoriously wicked, Helena, but for respectable ladies to repeat such horrors is unheard-of! such insolence to be uttered beneath your own roof is utterly unforgivable! Surely His Grace put an immediate end to such appalling disrespect?"

"He dismissed them from the estate on the spot," Helena acknowledged, taking a sip of her tea before setting the saucer upon her lap. "He was consumed by a rage the likes of which I have never witnessed. But the damage was already done, Theodora. They think I am nothing but a convenience. The staff does. Society does. And I confess, the knowledge cuts me deeper than I care to admit."

"And how has George reacted since this dreadful incident?" Theodora asked gently, leaning forward to place her hand over Helena's knee. "Knowing His Grace, he must be deeply troubled by such an insult to his Duchess."

Helena let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in weary frustration. "He has transformed entirely, Theodora. He has become impossibly distant, retreating into his study every evening to take his suppers alone in the dark. He cancelled our nightly chess games; the hours when we actually spoke to one another with honesty. Sometimes even wit. I remember one evening when-" Her voice caught, and she broke off. "It does not matter. It was as false as all the rest. And after the maids' unpleasantness, he insists that we must now engage in public display of our union whenever we step outside these doors."

"A public display?" Theodora echoed, her eyebrows rising in keen interest as she reached for an almond biscuit from the silver stand. "Well, is that not precisely what a duke and duchess ought to do when facing the scrutiny of the ton? If you appear before high society as an unbroken front, the gossips will have no ammunition to wield against you."

"You do not understand, Theodora!" Helena exclaimed softly, her eyes filled with and rising dismay. "It is - implausible! If he fears the servants' tongues, why does he treat me more coldly now than he did before? And yet he expects a pretense of devotion from me in public, when if it were only real I would-" She looked down. "Well. It is not real and I should give up these foolish hopes of mine."

Helena paused, chest heaving as she remembered the searing heat of his gaze in her bedchamber and the breathless moment in the gallery when his lips had claimed hers. The memory of that kiss burned through her veins, threatening to overwhelm her entirely.

As Mary walked back into the drawing room with a tray of treats, Helena buried her face in her hands. After a moment, she looked back up at her friend, her voice dropping into a conflicted whisper. "But what bothers me most is the k... Well. I should not speak of that, as much as my husband refuses to acknowledge it."