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“Yes,” Aunt Sarah said, nodding. Straightening their skirts, she ensured Helen was presentable before they returned to the men.
* * *
Although she had not arrived home until three in the morning, sleep evaded Helen. She tossed and turned, and finally, shortly after dawn, gave up the premise completely. Wrapping herself in a silk robe, she perched herself atop the window seat.
Any woman in her position would be celebrating their ability to climb and establish themselves at the top of the social ladder, but that was one of the last things she’d ever consider. What women wanted to have all the freedoms they held dear taken away from them?
As a duchess, every word she spoke would be scrutinized. The small family of servants she’d known her entire life would be replaced by those who treated her in a manner befitting a duchess rather than as a friend.
She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead upon them. She pictured Mr. Marcellus and his glowing smile. His thoughtfulness in gifting her a rare book. She could see his full lips and almost smell the roses from the garden where they had very nearly kissed.
I suppose the trouble would be worth it IF I were to have a man who loved and cherished me.
Steadily, the sun’s morning rays emerged from the horizon. Higher and higher it rose, until all traces of the night had disappeared. Aware that her maid Patsy had waited late for her mistress to return the night prior, Helen opted to dress herself. When the task was complete, she tiptoed out her bedroom door.
“Miss Davenport, you are up early this morning.” She jumped. Watson stood erect, with his hands behind his back.
She splayed a hand on her chest. “Good morning, Watson. You’ve given me a fright.”
“My sincerest apologies, miss.” He inclined his head. “Mr. Davenport and Lord and Lady Greenly are not expected to be up for several hours yet. Shall I have a tray sent to your room?”
Helen glanced to the staircase. “Actually, I had wondered if you might be privy to whether John is awake or not.”
“Indeed, he is, Miss Davenport.”
“I shall like to visit with him. Can you have a tray prepared for the two of us?”
The base of Watson’s neck colored the lightest shade of pale pink. Helen blinked twice.
Do my eyes deceive me, or is Watson embarrassed?
“Master John has already broken his fast. However, I shall personally see that a tray is prepared and sent up for you.” From behind his back, Watson revealed a small book. “If you would be so inclined to read to him, Master John would welcome hearing selections from this.”
Helen accepted the book from his hands. Her fingers brushed over the worn cover of a 1760 copy ofA Description ofThree Hundred Beasts.
Watson, you old softy. Your secret is safe with me.
“Certainly.” She tucked the book under her arm. “I shall leave it with John for you to collect when I finish the visit.”
“Very good, Miss Davenport.” Watson disappeared from Helen’s sight through a side door, down the servant’s staircase.
Turning tail, she picked up the hem of her skirt and ascended the stairs to the first bedroom on the right. She rapped softly on the door, and John’s voice called for her to enter. She pushed the door fully open and entered the room.
“Miss Davenport! I’ve been hoping that you might stop by. Watson mentioned that you attended a ball last evening and that I should expect Lord Greenly and Mr. Davenport to sit with me much later than normal.” John wiggled his way up out from the cocoon of blankets. “Which book do you have with you?”
Helen was thrilled to see John looking almost normal. His hair was disheveled and his face coated in a thin, uneven layer of facial hair. His eyes shone bright and clear, full of curiosity.
Helen’s lips turned up. “Watson recommended this.” She held up the book.
John’s face lit up at seeing the scarlet cover. “Brilliant. We were just reading about the panthers and lions. Watson makes the best animal sounds.”
She filed the information away and lowered herself into the chair next to his bedside. A vase of yellow lilies brightened the room, matching the color of her day dress.
The spine of the book cracked as she opened it. Propping the book against the side of the bed, she began to read. “Of all the beasts of Africa, the giraffe boasts a neck that extends to the tips of the tallest trees?.?.?.”
* * *
Helen slammed her book shut.
