Page 81 of The Wolf of Mayfair
She shrunk from the new scenes of misery and oppression, that might await her in the castle of Udolpho.
—Ann Radcliffe, The Mysteries of Udolpho
Later that night, long after the entire household had taken to their beds, Helia sat on the leather button sofa in the ducal library. Everyone but the occasional squeaking mouse, and the mouser in pursuit, now slept.
Nay. Not all human beings residing here had found rest this day.
Unbidden, her gaze went to the office door. On her meandering through the household, she’d passed a parlor. From under the beautifully carved door, bright light had spilled in an indication that someone remained awake.
Anthony.
From where she sat, Helia drew her knees tight to her chest and rested her chin atop the fabric of her white cotton chemise.
After Anthony had pulverized the earl, he’d escorted Helia from the Frost Fair to the warm comfort of his household, where they’d parted ways. They’d spoken not a word.
She climbed the stairs to her guest rooms, and he stalked off in the opposite direction.
That’d been the last she’d seen of him.
Anthony had nearly killed her cousin.
Or maybe he did,a voice whispered.
Helia shivered.
Given the new earl’s cold, unfeeling ruthlessness, he deserved a dark fate, but ... Anthony had almost ended the other man, and worse, he’d done so because of her.
As a man who so prided himself on his self-control, he’d resent that she’d gone out and he’d had to not only collect her but also fight a man on her behalf.
The fact he’d stayed away from Helia and only sent Mrs. Trowbridge to ask after her was proof of the marquess’s irateness.
Helia stared absently at the flames that gracefully swayed and danced in the hearth.Why would he want to see you?He believed she’d lied about her reasons for having come to Horace House.
No doubt all out of patience with her, Wingrave would, in the eventual meeting, turn her out for having gone off.
Being honest with herself, she acknowledged that cowardice had sent her into hiding.
Despise her all he might, Helia owed it to Humphries, John Thomas, and all the staff who’d shown her kindness to speak on their behalf and ensure their continued employment.
That didn’t make her dread this exchange any less.
Helia climbed to her feet, and her cotton skirts fluttered about her ankles. On stockinged feet, she padded across the room, making her way to its front.
She drew the panel open and dipped her head out into the hall, empty but for the shadows dancing on the satin wallpaper.
Helia made herself take the unwanted walk to the door she’d cowardly rushed past earlier that night.
Maybe the marquess was no longer there.
Why, it’d beenhours.
Perhaps he’d since sought his chambers and retired for the night.
That would grant her a brief reprieve before she had to face him.
Too soon, Helia reached that pretty pink-and-white-painted panel. She hovered there. Angling her head, she leaned in and strained her ears for any hint of sound from within.
The thick hum of silence proved her only companion this night.
