Page 22 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
“I stained the other. I was trying a lotion…that one that smells so faintly like strawberries…but then I dropped it…” No, truly nothing Helena said tonight could possibly please her aunt, and she winced at her own words, waiting for a lecture then on being the ruination of not one but two dresses.
Her aunt surprised her though. In fact, she softened considerably. “You do have a fondness for strawberries. And the lotion shows you were trying to do the right thing. Oh, child, what am I do with you?” She helped Helena into her nightdress and sat her at the dressing table, to extricate the many ribbons from her hair.
“You’re not angry?” Helena asked, feeling very small, and suddenly very tired.
“You worried me. To think that I could have lost you…” Phoebe put a hand to her mouth, covering a…sob?
Helena’s own eyes filled with tears. “Aunt Phoebe, you must believe me. It was an accident…I never…I would never…not like Tess’s father…”
Phoebe stood a moment, her hand on her niece’s shoulder as if to protect her from things unknown. “I have not been a good mother to you. I have kept you too isolated and alone…maybe if you could have gone out into society…”
Helena bit her lip. “Maybe I do not have to be so isolated. The Duke…”
Phoebe removed the last of the ribbons and hairpins, pausing now with a hairbrush in hand to study Helena through narrowed eyes. “What nonsense are you prattling on about? You said before that he is here because of you? Explain yourself.”
Helena sighed, her eyes growing distant. “Itwasmy doing that brought him here. I saw him once before and wanted so much to meet him.”
Phoebe paused in the brushing of Helena’s hair. “Where did you see him? Have you left the house without my knowing?”
“Hardly!” Helena could not help but laugh at such an idea. It was absurd; she had not left the house at all in at least two years now. “I saw him once in a dream.”
She thought to tell her about the rose but hesitated. She had thus far kept that entire evening a secret from her aunt and could only imagine her ire now, should she find out that she’d approached a stranger and talked to her in such a familiar way. Especially given that same stranger was nothing more than a servant in the Duke’s household. She’d acted shamefully, and she knew.
No, it is best I not tell that part.
“Father invited him here for me,” she said finally, for she suspected that he had had more of an active hand in this dinner invitation than her forged letter would have wrought.
Phoebe sniffed, attacking Helena’s hair almost savagely with the brush. “Nonsense. You entertain ridiculous fantasies. A guest seated next to you at dinner does not imply a courtship. Your father placed him in that seat to balance the table, nothing more.”
Helena put her hands up to cover her scalp as Phoebe pulled particularly hard on her hair. Her wrist disliked the sudden movement, and she winced painfully, finally dropping her hands to her lap as Phoebe gave her a stern look in the mirror that let Helena know she would sit still and allow her hair to be brushed.
“He will come four more times,” she insisted, stung a little at the tone her aunt was taking with her. Why must Aunt Phoebe be so terribly sensible all the time?
“Four? I highly doubt that you would see him if he came to a dozen. After tonight’s performance…”
Helena grasped her wrist protectively with her other hand. “But I must…he is to be…”
Phoebe laughed. “What? Your suitor? My darling girl, this has not been your best night, has it?” She hugged her suddenly. “Pay it no mind. Such as he does not matter.”
Helena lifted her eyes to the mirror studying the raw patches of skin, the lank lifeless hair that even with vigorous brushing stood around her head in snarls. The bandaged wrist in her lap stood in mute testimony to her lack of self-control.
“I truly am a monster…” she whispered, feeling something within her crack and break, setting up a dull ache within her breast. “I never should have…”
Phoebe helped her to her feet, leading her carefully around the rug where the bottles had fallen. “You are a poor afflicted child who has had too big a day. Come, let me tuck you in. Mind the glass. I shall send in that girl to clean the mess that remains, but you must promise me you will stay put, do you hear me? I would not have you injured again through your carelessness.”
It was not as bad as she made it out to be, for Tess had been busy while Bridget had bandaged her arm and had already cleared away most of the debris. But Phoebe was overly protective at times. Could Helena blame her given the ridiculous nature of her accident?
But she sighed a little as she climbed into the high bed and allowed the coverlet to be drawn up to her neck. Outside the wind howled, but the room was warm and cozy. Helena’s eyelids felt heavy as she settled against the pillows. “I will stay put.” Impulsively she put her arms around her aunt’s neck, drawing the older woman down for a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Auntie, for not telling anyone…” She raised her injured wrist a little and looked at it. “I think father would have been upset.”
“Your father would likely not allow you down to dinner again, if you’re going to allow yourself to become so overwrought from the affair that you hurt yourself,” Phoebe snapped, escaping her niece’s embrace with long practice.
“It was an accident,” Helena reminded her, hating that she felt defensive about this when it was obvious her aunt loved her very much and was genuinely worried about her.
Phoebe moved toward the door. “It was an accident,” she agreed, though her tone was dubious. “Be a good girl now and get some rest.”
Helena sighed inwardly. A good girl indeed, when she was well past childhood and should have been married by now. She lay back against the pillow, closing her eyes, and pretending not to hear when Tess slipped back into the room with a broom and a dustpan.
To my aunt I will never grow up, she thought miserably. But as she lay, ignoring the itch in her hands and face, ignoring the throb in her wrist, she thought about the things her aunt had said about the Duke of Durham. And remembered her conversation with him.
