Page 69 of From Rakes to Riches

Helena remained in the kitchen, her teacup between her hands, and thought about Ryan, Etienne and Adrian, and heartbreak, and the grief that had nearly torn the three of them apart.

By the time her tea had cooled, she’d made up her mind.

Now it was simply a matter of seeing the thing done.

“I’mafraid this won’t do, Miss Templeton.” Lady Codswaddle poked at one of the kissing balls, her lip curled with disdain.

Adrian had been as good as his word and had secured a few girls from the village to help her with the kissing balls, but Helena had still spent the better part of the afternoon in the stillroom with a lapful of greenery and ribbons, struggling over the last of them. The bandages that Adrian had so carefully wrapped around her fingers were in shreds, her arms were aching, and she’d nearly gone cross-eyed from tying ribbons.

In short, she’d had quite enough of Lady Codswaddle’s endless complaints, and she was perhaps far less cordial than she might have been when she asked, “What’s the matterthistime?”

“Why, there aren’t enough of them, of course. I imagined six dozen would do, but we must have one for each of the sconces. They’ll look very well beside the pier glasses.”

There were two sconces fixed into each of the panels that lined the ballroom, each pair with a pier glass between them, and at least…Helena did a rough count.

A dozen panels. To accommodate Lady Codswaddle’s demands, she’d need anothertwodozen kissing balls, not a dozen.

“These are rather small, aren’t they?” Lady Codswaddle took up a kissing ball and held it up to one of the sconces. “Well, you see for yourself what I mean, Miss Templeton.”

Helenadidn’tsee, but before she could unclench her teeth and say so Adrian, who’d been helping Lady Anne drape greenery around the mantelpiece descended on them, his lips tight. “Is there a problem, Lady Codswaddle?”

“Lord Hawke, thank goodness you’re here. I’m afraid we do have rather a problem, yes. There are simply not enough kissing balls, you see. I’m of the mind we need another dozen, at least, but Miss Templeton doesn’t appear to agree with me.”

“Neither do I, madam.” Adrian waved a hand around the ballroom. “We’re overrun with kissing balls as it is. I can’t stir a step without one of them slapping me in the forehead, for God’s sake.”

Lady Codswaddle drew herself up with a sniff. “As the head of the decorations committee, my lord, I must insist?—”

“No more kissing balls, Lady Codswaddle. We’re already choking on them as it is.”

Lady Codswaddle sucked in an outraged breath, but Helena interrupted her before she could unleash another tirade. She was simply too dispirited to argue over something as silly as kissing balls. The fete would be over after tomorrow night, and none of this would matter anymore. “It’s alright, my lord. I don’t mind making another dozen.” Shedidmind, and she suspected Adrian knew it, but?—

Lord Hawke, that is. He wasLord Hawke, not Adrian, for pity’s sake.

Surely that wasn’t so difficult to remember? Just because he’d kissed her with his impossibly soft lips, and stroked his fingers up her spine and loosened the buttons of her gown and nuzzled her neck and whispered her name…

Wait, what point had she been making?

Oh, yes. Nothing had changed between them. He was still the earl and she was still his sons’ governess, at least for another few days, and governesses didn’t call their employers by their Christian names. “Abby and I can assemble them this evening, but I’ll have to climb the alder tree to get more mistletoe. We’ve run out.”

“Climb the alder tree! Are you mad?”

Adrian—dash it, Lord Hawke—was glaring at her. “It’s no bother?—”

“You’re not going up that tree, Hel…that is, Miss Templeton. It’ll be dark soon, and it looks as if it’s going to snow.”

Lady Codswaddle sniffed. “I confess I don’t see what all the fuss is, my lord. Miss Templeton looks spry enough. I’m certain she can scamper right up there and be back down again in a trice. It can’t be terribly difficult, after all.”

Adrian turned on Lady Codswaddle, his hands clenched as if it was taking all his restraint not to throttle her. “If it’s so simple, then why don’t you go up yourself?”

“Me? Oh no, Lord Hawke. I’m afraid that’s impossible. I must be off now. I don’t like to ride in my carriage in the snow. It’s not safe, you know. Goodbye!” Lady Codswaddle waved her fingertips at Lady Anne, and then swept out in a bustle of silk skirts.

“Helena,” Adrian began, his voice low. “This is madness. You’re not going up that tree.”

She avoided his gaze. “I’ve done it dozens of times, my lord. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Safe! Last time you climbed up there I had to come up and get you!”

“I’ll take better care with my hair this time.”

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