They haven’t found me.
Helena repeated the phrase over and over in her head, pressing her body flush against the front door as though her physical strength was enough to prevent the nightmare from reoccurring. Chest heaving, she slid down the wood, collapsed on the floor, and dragged her trembling knees to her chest.
After weeks of crafting a new identity and reinserting herself into society, everything dashed to smithereens with the—potential—appearance of Selina Drummond, who would most certainly inform her brother she’d discovered his wayward fiancée hiding in Wiltshire.
If it even was Humphrey’s sister…
Peeking through one of the beveled diamonds accenting an elaborately carved window beside the door, Helena held her breath, her gaze sliding over the fluffy white grounds.
There was no one outside.
She swallowed, unable to shake the foreboding sensation coating her stomach. By the time she’d reached the street, shoving aside the Duke of Lennox in her haste to confirm whether the apparition was Selina or merely a fabrication of imagination, the woman had vanished, leaving Helena questioning her sanity… and the Duke of Lennox questioning her upbringing.
Not that she considered herself worthy of his attention, having discounted herself upon learning his rank, but he was a kind man, and that alone elevated him in her esteem. He appeared genuinely concerned for her this afternoon, and while she appreciated his agreeable nature, she was quite certain he didn’t harbor the same attachment she felt toward him.
“You didn’t come here to become a duchess.” Her stern voice echoed softly in the foyer.
“Why did you?” Miss Webb asked, drawing a scream from Helena.
Helena’s head whipped around, her gaze landing on Miss Webb, who, hovering between the hallway and the parlor, clutched a chair and stared at her.
“To gain new acquaintances,” Helena said, rising from the floor with as much dignity as she could muster.
“And if you happen to marry a duke…” Miss Webb winked and disappeared into the parlor.
Helena scrambled after her. “I have no intention of marrying.”
“Neither did the Duke of Roxburghe,” Miss Webb replied, setting the final chair down and shoving it into position.
“How did you sway his mind?” Helena asked, hoping her question sounded indifferent.
It didn’t.
Miss Webb glanced over her shoulders as though ensuring they were alone and gestured for Helena to step closer. “What I’m about to share, you cannot divulge to anyone else.”
“A secret?” Miss Fernsby-Webb, her eyes glowing, glided through the doorway, holding a silver tray laden with assorted sweet pies. “Involving who?”
“The Duke of Roxburghe,” Helena replied, keeping her voice low.
After setting the tray on a table near the large window facing the street, Miss Fernsby-Webb spun with a grin. “What scandalous act has the Duke of Roxburghe recently committed?”
“It wasn’t recent,” Miss Webb said and flicked her wrist, indicating for both ladies to join her on the far side of the room.
Once they were huddled in the corner, Miss Webb, her voice barely louder than a whisper, added, “And it involves four more dukes.”
Gasping, Helena pressed her hands to her mouth. “Whatever did they do?”
“They made a wager to avoid marriage for the season.”
“I don’t understand.” Miss Fernsby-Webb frowned, her visible confusion matching that of Helena’s. “The Duke of Roxburghe is engaged to you.”
Miss Webb’s eyes flicked to the doorway when the housekeeper entered the parlor, and she shook her head.
She didn’t speak again until Mrs. Hawkins deposited a tray of cold meats and departed. “He purposefully lost the wager with his friends to win his bet with me.”
“You bet a duke?” Pride punctuated Miss Fernsby-Webb’s question.
“I only made the wager to rescue you.” Miss Webb crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin into a defiant pose. “Had Mother not accused you of theft, the desperate choice wouldn’t have been necessary.”
