Page 7 of The Scandalous Deal of the Scarred Lady
She was being unreasonable, but Lucy nodded, accepting this. Taking a deep breath, she began. “I have already told you that I serve the Duke of Durham. What you need to understand is that I have tended him since he was a child. I was his nurse, and so am privy to information that the rest of the household is not.”
Helena nodded. Her own aunt had taken that role with her, and she understood well that nature of the position.
“What is not widely known, is that the Duke’s entire fleet was lost in a hurricane in the West Indies little more than a fortnight ago. In this disaster, it was found that his business partner had been…less than forthright with him regarding his holdings. He has stolen from him, great amounts of money. As of this moment, the Duke is…without means, save his own houses.”
There was much unsaid in the story, but Helena also appreciated the raw honesty. She stared at the brooch still clutched in her hand. Each brilliant petal worth so terribly much. As a whole, a priceless beauty. “You thought to help him,” she said softly.
Lucy nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I thought that such an exquisite piece would perhaps fund another voyage, one that would enable him to build his fortunes again. That done quietly…no one need ever know. I thought…well, I thought that once the fortune was made, you could have been repaid…with interest even.”
For a moment it was hard to breathe. An entire ship and a fortune built upon a single pin? It seemed incredible…but also entirely possible.
The Duke of Durham was a good man. Had not Aunt Phoebe sung his virtues often enough when she had come in from an outing where he had been sighted? Not that he and Aunt Phoebe moved in the same circles. But she had an uncanny knack for attending the various musicales that he loved. She had only good things to say about the man.
What if she were in a position to help him?
She felt the edges of the pin with her fingers. She had never known her mother. Anne Barrington had died giving birth to her only child. What would she say in this situation?
Helena found herself rising to face her guest. It would be such a simple matter to give the pin to the woman. A small piece of jewelry could stand between a man and complete and utter ruination. It was not too late — her Aunt thrived on gossip. She’d know if the Duke’s change in fortune had been broadcast about. If it were still a secret, would not the noble thing to do, be to help? To think of it, as Lucy had said, as a loan?
No. A gift. She did not want the Duke to be beholden to her. She opened her mouth to say as much when a thought occurred to her. “Is the Duke a proud man?” she asked, drawing her hand back, and feeling the edge of the pin cut into her palm. The pain was at once sharp and a relief.
“How do you mean?” Lucy asked, looking up at her with troubled eyes. “If you are asking whether he would be unhappy to hear of my actions, I assure you he would be. I have done a thing which has reflected badly upon his household.”
Helena waved that away as inconsequential. “Pray do not start crying again. It only occurs to me that he would not be one to accept a gift of such magnitude, would he? From what I have heard of his nature, he would be shamed by such.”
For a moment bright hope flared in Lucy’s eyes only to fade. “You have the right of it. Even had I brought him the means he would have been most unhappy with me and refused the gift outright. I was not thinking.”
“What if it were not a gift?” Helena drew Lucille to her feet and pressed the rose into the other woman’s hands. “I am using it to purchase a service from him. A thing that only he can do.”
“He is hardly a common laborer…” Lucy said uncertainly, glancing around the room. “And I fail to see what you could possibly need.”
“A suitor,” Helena said all in a rush, hardly daring at her audacity. “I wish to be courted. What say you? Will he agree?”
Lucy’s eyes opened wide. “A suitor?”
“A suitor. I would purchase the company of a Duke. Look at the petals of the rose. Five of them. Five priceless rubies. One visit for each.”
“You wish him to marry you?” Lucy asked, drawing back in horror.
“Oh la, no!” Helena laughed and stood back. “LOOK at me! I would never be so bold as to even imagine such a thing. I am a veritable beast! No…I only…” her expression grew thoughtful. “I only wish to know what it’s like to have a gentleman come to call. To…to do the things that a gentleman caller would.”
Helena blushed a little and laughed. “Oh, please do not look at me like that. But…perhaps…he would not mind taking me for a turn around the garden? To share tea. To…talk. I so would like to have someone just…talk to me.”
Her voice had become wistful, and she busied herself with her cloak, retrieving it from the chair. “‘Tis a ridiculous idea, I know. I likely am asking too much…” she said past the sudden lump in her throat.
Helena laughed. “I get rather caught up in my ideas, do I not? I see only how perfect it would be. Being the daughter of a Duke myself, there are limitations as to whom would be considered proper company for me, were I not so afflicted. But then…I am not exactly one suited to the world of courtships and marriages, am I?” She reached to put on her cloak.
“No…” Lucy’s voice behind her stayed her hand. “No, you are wrong. And ’tis not too much to ask at all.”
“You think not?” Helena took a shaky breath, the sudden surge of hope making her chest burn with a strange tightness. “It is not too strange a thing for me to demand your Master return to this house for your transgressions?” she asked, shaking her head and thinking what an absolute fool she was acting to even question it.
Lucy faced her, having drawn herself up straight and sure, her eyes burning with intensity. She looked at the rose in her hand, before curling her fingers around it. “I will see to it,” she said with quiet determination.
She meant it. Dear God in heaven, she meant it. “Five visits?” Helena asked, breathless.
“Five,” Lucy said with a firm nod. “In exchange for this rose, I will myself see to it that James Campbell returns to this house five times.”
“Not out of pity though. Please. Don’t tell him…” she gestured toward her face, “As payment. A business transaction. His company for the space of five afternoons. No expectations of a genuine courtship. Nothing…untoward. Just…just enough…”
