When she reached the corner, she leaned against her neighbor’s—the horrible mother of Miss Webb and Miss Fernsby-Webb—fence, praying that Mrs. Webb had slept in late that morning, and pulled off her shoe. Tipping it over, Helena tapped the gold fob into her palm, then slid the shoe back on with a sigh.
She yanked off the second shoe and upended it as well. One gold chain fell into her hand, and the other slipped past her fingers, dropping onto the pavement with a soft clink.
“Bollocks!” She said the curse word under her breath and immediately cringed, recalling Humphrey’s violent displeasure upon hearing her swear.
She jerked on the shoe, then shoved her hand into the thin coating of snow covering the sidewalk and dragged her fingers along the ground, searching for the third fob. Her pinkie touched something cold, and, praying it was the missing gold chain, she curled the tip of her finger around the item and dragged it toward her.
It was the fob!
Relief washed over her as she rose. She raced down the street, a strange feeling of buoyancy carrying her the half-mile to Mr. Venning’s lavish residence.
When Helena reached the doorstep, she paused, exhaled, then lifted her hand and rapped sharply on the front door. A butler opened the door a moment later, his bushy eyebrows raised in silent comment regarding the early hour.
“Good morning. Miss Drummond is expecting me,” Helena said, adding a curtsey.
The eyebrows floated higher. “She’s still abed.”
“I’m to wake her,” Helena said, flashing a debonair smile. “She made the request to me last evening before leaving my home. I have the remainder of her winnings.”
That sounded plausible.
“Ah.” The butler nodded, his stone façade melting. “I heard Miss Drummond was quite fortunate.”
“She was,” Helena bit off, then widened her smile when the butler frowned. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to deliver this and be on my way.”
“Of course, Miss…”
“Rowe.”
“Please follow me,” said the butler, ushering her into the house.
However, instead of leading her to the upstairs chambers, he indicated she should wait in an informal sitting room to their right.
“I’ll return shortly,” he said, his face pinching into a resolute scowl.
Helena wandered toward the center of the room, trailing her fingertips along the back of a pale periwinkle sofa. Her gaze slid over a pair of exquisite, matching armchairs, imported most likely from France. Before she could convince herself to sit on one of the lavish pieces, the door opened.
“You surprise me, Miss Rowe,” Miss Drummond said as she swept into the room. “I expected to hear you’d departed suddenly… again.”
“I like Wiltshire,” said Helena, striding forward and holding out her hand.
She opened her fist, revealing the three gold fobs. Miss Drummond issued a low whistle and bent forward, poking at the chains.
“I’m impressed.” Lifting her gaze, Miss Drummond smiled, but the sentiment didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you a suspect in the thefts?”
Shaking her head, Helena flipped over her hand and dropped the fobs into Miss Drummond’s outstretched palm. “I consider my obligation fulfilled.”
Miss Drummond fingered the chains, rubbing them between her thumb and pointer.
“I don’t,” she said after a long moment. “However, if you include that necklace, I’ll agree that your debt is paid.”
Fingers brushing over the stones, Helena nodded, swallowing her protest. As she unclasped the necklace, a heavy weight settled in her chest. She held out her hand and, before she could change her mind, released the jewelry into Miss Drummond’s possession.
“Excellent.” Miss Drummond fastened the necklace around her throat. “That only leaves restitution for two more fiancés.”
“Pardon?” Helena’s mouth popped open.
“Two more,” Miss Drummond repeated, her eyes narrowing to slits. “I lost three suitors to your sisters, and I expect compensation for those losses.”
