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Chapter Fifteen
Helen’s first visit to the Lilac Room in Miss Smith’s Tearoom had been as comfortable as being immersed in boiling oil. Dressed in one of her new day gowns from Madame Robillard, pinstriped in lavender, navy, and cream, she arrived feeling fashionable, if not overdressed. Her mother’s lily of the valley brooch was pinned to her bodice; her new bonnet featured twice the ribbon and trimmings she had ever worn. The instant she felt everyone’s eyes on her from under their own heavily decorated bonnets, however, Helen realized just how plain her appearance was.
Were Helen to see the Lilac Room before it opened for the day, the airiness and loveliness of the decor would be calming and pleasant. Late winter sun filtered through the gossamer white draperies over the large windows. Ubiquitous marble pedestals supported thriving potted ferns, and sweet pastel lilacs adorned the wallpaper and all the china.
By the time Helen and Penelope arrived, however, the in-demand venue was occupied with ladies sipping tea and daintily consuming cakes and pastries. Penelope’s descriptions of the wildly popular locale had not exaggerated the finery worn or the intense and controlled decorum that permeated the immense room.
A painting of a moment in time at Miss Smith’s would show the tables, their linen crisp and set with porcelain and silver. The tea would steam; it was the highest quality available—untilAlacritywould return with superior. Servants pushed carts, teeming with delights ranging from classic cream-and-fruit-filled sponge cakes to ornately layered French pastries.
An artist as adept as Sirena in conveying emotion could capture the atmosphere as Helen experienced it. The ladies sought to project elegance and pulchritude through their practiced movements and the restrained volume of their conversations. Behind their efforts, however, Helen sensed a great deal more—some were desperate, others nervous, still others were judging everyone else.
Armor shielded warriors. In London, ladies protected themselves with fine gowns and used words as weapons.
After surviving the first visit, she enjoyed the next ones. She felt no less an imposter, but had greater confidence that, aside from the thinly veiled inspections from the other patronesses, no one would voice scorn aloud or cast her out—so long as she followed their rules.
Moreover, Penelope issued enthusiastic invitations, reassuring her that whatever the ladies at the other tables made of her, this young woman sought her company.
“I don’t know which to try first,” said Helen at the beginning of the second visit, gazing down at a tea cake and pastry on her plate. “They’re more works of art than food!”
Pen giggled, but when she stared down at the selections on her own bone china plate, she did so with fresh eyes. “I suppose theyarerather prettily made.”
Helen took a careful bite of a layered sponge cake. Only cream had been visible around the layers, and the sweetness and tartness of apricot jam took her by surprise.Just when I had sworn off apricots!
Since Elijah’s departure, day by day, she was rebuilding her defenses against Nicholas. At first, Nicholas’s behavior had helped. For all his fervent statements the night of the first dinner party and his gallantry at the docks, he had then been…
Controlled.
They had both visited his parents for dinner a few times, and though Nicholas was solicitous and polite enough, he hadn’t lingered. Only once had he stayed long enough for her to ride home in his carriage. Their nearly silent ride in the dark confines and privacy of the vehicle had been rife with intensity and awareness…or so she had thought. Afterwards, she wondered it was her longing alone that had filled that carriage.
Until the opera.
Pen observed her carefully. “It did not escape your notice at the first dinner party just how enamored Nicholas is of apricots, did it?”
“Of course not,” Helen replied as matter-of-factly as she could.
“He seems equally captivated by a certain American variety of apricot.”
“Oh, Pen. He must view me as a business obligation. That’s all.”
“What?” The young woman shook her head, her expression earnest. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“Like this?”
“Whatever…attachments he’s had in the past, he kept them private. He’s spending more time than ever with the family, and I’m certain it’s to seeyou.”
Her brow furrowed before she smiled. “Your family seems to enjoy spending time together. The heated debates, too.”
“We do, yes. Nicholas…he loves us. But he’s been set apart for a long time. It’s better than it was. Oh, I was just a girl when he left Sideris & Co. Papa had great difficulty accepting it. You’ve met my dear father. He’s his own worst enemy at times! I’m afraid he spoke out of turn, threatening to disown Nicholas if he left the company.”
Sighing inwardly, Helen realized hers was not the only family wrecked, at least at times, by pride. “Is that why Nicholas changed his name?”
“Yes. He took pains to stay close to me even when he and Papa weren’t speaking. I was only eight, andhowI adored him. I still do!” She smiled naughtily. “That doesn’t mean it isn’t satisfying to see him so torn now.”
She knew what it was to be eight and idolize a brother—and what it was to see a brother troubled. “Torn?”
“He’s trying to behave properly around you—but he doesn’twantto be so proper. It’s plain to see.”
When it had come to the tea investment, Nicholas had acted not just decisively, but boldly. If he was as interested inher, she couldn’t imagine why he would hesitate.“Tornsounds rather unpleasant. In any case, if he’s so unsure of…well, I don’t wish to be trifled with.”
