Her gaze floated to the table beside them just as her sister slammed down her cards, a triumphant smile on her face.
“My sister’s fiancé, the Duke of Roxburghe, and his friend assisted with my case.” Eyes misting, Miss Fernsby-Webb smiled. “If they hadn’t intervened, I might have died in prison.”
“Who was his friend?” Miss Drummond asked, gesturing for another card.
“The Duke of Lennox.”
Setting down her cards, Miss Drummond turned her full attention to Miss Fernsby-Webb. “I’m not one to meddle, but had you considered thanking him for his aid by becoming his wife?”
Miss Fernsby-Webb burst out laughing. “I don’t have designs on any duke. However, I intend to act as a matchmaker for him to express my gratitude.”
“If you succeed, I may request your services.” Miss Drummond added two more coins to the pile. “I lost three fiancés to the same family.”
“The same family?” Miss Sinclair lifted her eyes from her cards and stared at Miss Drummond as though seeing her for the first time. “It must have been sisters.”
“It was.” Miss Drummond shifted her attention to Helena. “The Braddock sisters.”
The blood drained from Helena’s face.
She doesn’t know who you are. She doesn’t know those marriages were arranged by your brother. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t?—
A hand grabbed Helena’s right arm, startling her from the torturous thoughts running round and round in her mind, and squeezed. As she glanced to her right, Miss Sinclair sent a subtle wink.
“Take a breath,” she mouthed before turning to Miss Drummond and saying, “that name isn’t known in Wiltshire.”
“Braddock…” A slight wrinkle furrowed Miss Fernsby-Webb’s forehead as she lifted her glass of negus.
“I’ve not heard it either,” Helena said quickly, hoping Miss Fernsby-Webb wouldn’t recall the surname on the misdelivered letter.
“Then perhaps,” Miss Drummond said, her pink lips curving into a smile, “I have a chance with the Duke of Lennox.”
Miss Fernsby-Webb shook her head. “There is a whisper that his affections are currently engaged.”
“By whom?” Miss Drummond and Miss Sinclair asked at the same time.
Tapping her finger to her lips, Miss Fernsby-Webb indicated Helena with her chin.
“No,” Helena spoke firmly, hoping to tamp out the strange light glowing in Miss Drummond’s green eyes. “That is a false rumor. There is nothing between the Duke of Lennox and me.”
“Good to know,” Miss Drummond replied, flipping over her cards and frowning when she realized Helena’s hand had beaten hers.
A hushed silence fell over the room as Miss Webb pushed back her chair and rose.
“Ladies, thank you all for coming this evening; we understand that some of you must return home due to the late hour. For those who wish to continue playing?—”
“And still have money,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, earning several giggles.
Inclining her head toward her sister, Miss Webb continued, “We will resume playing again in twenty minutes.”
Miss Sinclair leaned over and whispered, “I would like to stay longer.”
“Of course.” Helena placed her hand on top of Miss Sinclair’s. “If you need a place to sleep, I can have a chamber prepared for you.”
“That would be lovely.” Miss Sinclair leaped to her feet. “After what occurred earlier in the kitchen, I’m certain your housekeeper doesn’t like me, and I want to apologize for meddling in her domain.”
As Miss Sinclair scampered away, Helena smiled. Standing, she gathered her coins into a mound and brushed the pile of coins into a small, beaded reticule. The weight wasn’t enough to equal one hundred pounds, but after the next round of cards, she was certain she’d have enough to pay the unknown author of that letter for their silence.
Hopefully, they only wanted one payment. Helena couldn’t imagine what she’d do if they returned and demanded more money.
