Mrs. Hawkins grunted an obligatory response and turned away, dismissing them.
As they entered the corridor, Miss Sinclair leaned in and whispered, “I don’t think your housekeeper likes me.”
“Your motivation was concern. She cannot fault you for expressing compassion,” Helena said, dragging her feet as they neared the parlor.
Her heart raced, beating a furious rhythm of terror.
How was she going to survive the next hour?
“Ladies,” Miss Webb said as they entered the room, “if you all would take your seats, we will begin in five minutes.”
Miss Sinclair grasped Helena’s elbow, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know you’re terrified, and I appreciate you honoring my request not to drink that vile concoction. However, don’t be intimidated by these other ladies. You are the most beautiful one in the room.”
“You are too kind,” Helena said, her eyes finding Miss Drummond. “But you’re mistaken. I am not extraordinary.”
“You cannot convince me otherwise,” Miss Sinclair replied as they approached their table. “There’s nothing I could hear that would alter my opinion of your good nature.”
Helena was willing to wager that there was one thing: learning that Helena had lied to her since their first introduction.
“Miss Sinclair,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, joining them at the table, “I’m so delighted you could join us this evening.”
“I was honored to receive an invitation. I haven’t attended many functions since the Duke of Lennox’s Christmas party.”
“I understand your hesitation,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, placing her hand on her chest. “However, I swear that no one is going to die this evening.”
Miss Drummond gasped from behind them. “Someone died at a Christmas party? Are we in danger?”
“The culprit was captured,” Miss Sinclair said, then clucked her tongue. “Unfortunately, the horrific act sowed a large amount of fear in the residents.”
Her face paling, Miss Drummond sank into the empty chair. “Though the prospects in my town are quite small, I’m certain my mother would have kept me there instead of sending me to stay with my cousin had she known.”
“Nonsense.” Miss Fernsby-Webb snatched up the deck of cards and shuffled them. “Wiltshire is an excellent place to find a husband, and as Miss Sinclair stated, the killer was arrested and placed in prison.”
“I thought you were unmarried,” Miss Drummond said, a tiny line wrinkling her forehead.
“I am,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied. “However, my sister has just become engaged to a duke.”
“A duke?” Miss Drummond’s eyebrows shot up. “How fortunate for her.”
“And for us.” Miss Fernsby-Webb dealt the cards. “He has friends in need of wives.”
“Which duke would you recommend?” Miss Drummond selected a coin and dropped it in the middle of the table.
Leaning forward to toss in her coin, Miss Sinclair said, “The Duke of Lennox is most kind.”
“Indeed,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, her traitorous gaze sliding to Helena. “He, quite generously, donated his time this afternoon to assist Miss Rowe with planning this event.”
“Such charity,” Miss Drummond said, her eyes returning to Helena, “is expected from great men. Do you not agree, Miss Rowe?”
Dropping her head to hide the bright red flush spreading across her face, Helena replied, “His motive was solely to free the Duke of Roxburghe from his obligation to Miss Webb. However, I suppose one could consider the action charitable.”
Though Miss Drummond didn’t recognize Helena as the woman who’d run out on her brother and whose younger sisters had stolen three fiancés from her, she didn’t want her feelings regarding the Duke of Lennox revealed.
To hide her discomfort, Helena flung a coin toward the center of the table and said, “Miss Sinclair, if you were to capture the attention of a duke, whom would you prefer?”
“None of them,” she replied, setting down her cards. “I have no interest in finding a husband.”
“You, my dear friend, are fibbing.”
