Page 6 of The Wolf of Mayfair
After this exchange, that could—and would—be the last she’d see of him. This residence was big enough to house all of London’s poor and, as such, certainly was big enough to avoid a hateful man like the Marquess of Wingrave.
That reminder should bring some solace.
It brought none.
Not until Helia found herself free of his company—and in that of the warm, kindly woman her mother had spoken of often—would she breathe easy.
After a full, threatening rotation, the marquess stopped so he stood face-to-face with Helia.
How was it possible for one man to ooze such malevolence, contempt, and indifference, all at the same time?
A derisive grin formed on lips as hard as this palace. “I most certainly donotremember you.”
He wouldn’t, because they’d never met before now. And thank the good Lord for it.
She was too relieved by his indifference to be insulted by his disparagement.
The sooner she could speak with the mistress of Horace House, the sooner she could be free of Lord Wingrave’s malevolent company.
Helia reached for the clasp of her cloak.
“Making yourself comfortable, are you?” he jeered.
She immediately dropped her arm to her side. “No doubt yer wondering my reason for being here.”
“You’re wrong,” he said flatly. “I would have to be curious or interested. I amneither.”
That brought her up short. She found her voice.
“I’m here to see the Duchess of Talbert,” she quietly explained.
“Are you?” he drawled, taunting, mocking, playing Helia as though she were the mouse to him, the cat.
“Aye, my lord. Ah ken ah’ve arrived at a late hour and Her Grace is surely abed, my lord.”
Which was why Helia found herself in the unfortunate position of explaining her presence here to a man who clearly did not wish to be having this exchange.
“The Duchess of Talbert retired to the country, more’s the fortunate for me.”
So emotionless in his reply, it was a moment before she registered what the marquess had said.
Helia blinked. Nay! She could not have escaped Cousin Damian, braved the long, arduous journey from Scotland—on her own—only to finally arrive and discover the duchess gone.
Her ears buzzed like a hornet’s nest had been knocked loose inside her head. Through the incessant hum, Lord Wingrave’s apathetic voice came—but from a distance.
“Now,Humphries, if you care to continue your employment, I’d suggest you work up the nerve of handling this person ...”
Helia came rushing back to the horrifying moment.
“The duke,” she rasped, pulling both men’s attention back to her. She’d heard the current duke was a monster, but desperation gave her no other choice.
Helia’s breath came in quick, noisy bursts. “Then ah’ll see His Grace.”
“I am even more pleased to share the duke worked himself into a small apoplexy—even more fortunate for me—and was encouraged to recuperate in the country.”
Ah’m going to throw up ...
“Your sister?” she whispered. Even as Helia asked, she knew she merely grasped at air, that dream as elusive as the help she desperately needed.
