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Chapter Thirty
Nicholas helped Helen tighten the laces at the back of her gown, then pressed a kiss to her nape and smoothed his hands around her front. Shivering, she melted back against him. “At this rate, we’re going to miss breakfast for the second day in a row,” she said breathlessly.
“You’re welcome.”
She laughed. “Before I know it, I’ll be back in bed, against the pillows—”
“Wearing nothing but your pearl necklace.”
Turning in his arms, she kissed him, unsurprised when his fingers found the laces at the back of her gown once more. In the two days since she’d found him in his office, they’d barely left the bedchamber.
“He-len! Ni-cho-las!”
They both froze at the voice bellowing from downstairs.
“Was that…your father?”
“It was,” he said grimly. “That man and his timing!”
“It’s supper at their housetonight, is it not? Or did we spend more time up here than we realize?” She giggled.
“HELEN! NICHOLAS!” Pen yelled.
Helen’s eyes widened with a new realization. “They know you’re here! That you’re uphere!”
Lips flattened, he nodded. “Shall we see what has merited this morning's call to scream our names?”
Pen was halfway up the stairs when they exited the bedchamber, and not only was Vassilis at the bottom of the stairway, craning his neck to find them, Sirena stood next to him. If not for their jubilant expressions, Helen would be terrified rather than confused.
“Good morning, madam,” Farnworth called out from behind the Sideris elders. “I apologize for—”
“We’re family!” Vassilis exclaimed. “There’s no reason to apologize for letting us barge in!”
“Whyhaveyou barged in?” Nicholas asked.
Pen continued up the stairs, waving a newspaper above her head. “Alacrity!She’s been sighted!”
Helen shook her head, doubting her hearing. Pen repeated her exclamation and would have pressedThe Timesinto Helen’s hands, but she backed away as if the paper were on fire. With all her heart, she wished to believe the words, but they simply sounded too good to be true.
While Nicholas scanned the article, his parents made their way up the stairs, and soon, they all crowded the landing.
“Thank God!” Sirena said tearfully, clasping Helen’s hand. “Thank God!”
Believe nothing yet!Helen reminded herself, waiting for Nicholas’s head to rise.
When he met her eyes, he spoke quietly, appearing to choose his words carefully. “According to this, yesterday, the Admiralty in London received a message by telegraph from the Port Admiral in Portsmouth. Earlier in the day,Alacritywas spotted off the coast. Intact and under full sail.”
Staring without blinking, Helen saw spots populate before her eyes. She felt hands on her, steadying her, but she ignored everything and sent all her energy into fighting the hope that was blossoming uncontrollably.
“I’m too frightened to believe it,” she whispered. “If it’s not true…”
“It would be cruel!” Pen exclaimed.
Stay skeptical, she urged herself.
Once she felt steady, they removed downstairs, where she sat next to Nicholas while Vassilis paced behind the settee. Pen and Sirena held hands and stared at Helen, as she, in turn, stared at the painting of Elijah.
She hadn’tfelthis death in April. After receiving the news in August, she had explained it to herself by imagining the great distance between London and the Cape of Good Hope. By telling herself she was mad for believing she would ever be able to divine such a thing across the continents and oceans.
