“Why would someone pay to print such horrible things about you?”
“I don’t know,” Helena whispered, her lower lip trembling.
Except she did know.
Only one person in Wiltshire knew Helena ran from Humphrey, the same person who demanded an additional four hundred pounds to keep that secret quiet.
Today was a warning. If Helena didn’t pay Miss Drummond, the next article wouldn’t just reveal Helena’s true name; it would place her in unimaginable danger. She wouldn’t survive Humphrey’s fury at having to travel to Wiltshire to collect her.
No one could protect her—not her brother Ernest, not the Duke of Lennox, not even the sturdy Miss Fernsby-Webb, whose brown eyes blazed with an intensity Helena had not previously witnessed.
Miss Fernsby-Webb slapped the newspaper against her open palm. “This is a vicious attack by someone who realized the Duke of Lennox developed an affinity for you yesterday evening.”
“No.” Helena shook her head. “The Duke of Lennox isn’t interested in anything more than friendship. He told me after our card game.”
“He’s obstinate.” Miss Webb waved off Helena’s revelation. “He doesn’t know his own mind. This inane wager is making them all irrational.”
“Love isn’t rational either.” Miss Fernsby-Webb strode over to the fireplace and tossed the paper into the flames.
“Those words,” Helena indicated the burning page with a tilt of her head, “will sway any man’s mind from nurturing affection for me.”
And as long as Humphrey didn’t appear, she would consider the sacrifice of the Duke of Lennox worth her freedom… even if it broke her heart.
Mrs. Hawkins hurried into the parlor, moving as quickly as possible without slopping water over the edge of the porcelain bowl she carried. She knelt beside Miss Sinclair, set the bowl on the floor, and, after wringing the excess water from the cloth, draped the material across Miss Sinclair’s forehead.
“How long has she been unconscious?” Mrs. Hawkins dug in her apron, pulling out a vinaigrette of salts.
“A few minutes,” Helena replied, her gaze locked on Miss Sinclair.
Waving the perforated lid beneath Miss Sinclair’s nose, Mrs. Hawkins waited until Miss Sinclair coughed and opened her eyes before removing the metal container.
“Where am I?” Miss Sinclair murmured, rubbing her hand across her face.
Upon realizing her location, she sat up with a gasp, her head whipping between Mrs. Hawkins and Helena.
“How did I get here?” Miss Sinclair’s voice pitched, cracking on the last word.
“We carried you,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, walking into Miss Sinclair’s eyeline. “Miss Rowe, Nora, and I brought you in from the street.”
The color draining from her face, Miss Sinclair grabbed the sofa, steadying herself. “Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t believe so,” Miss Fernsby-Webb replied, the edge in her tone sharpening. “However, if you’re concerned someone witnessed your visit to the home of such a scandalous lady…”
“That’s not…” Miss Sinclair choked back a sob. “If Mother discovers I ignored her wishes and called upon Miss Rowe, the punishment will be severe. The last time I disobeyed her, I couldn’t walk for days.”
Mrs. Hawkins retrieved the damp cloth, which dropped to the rug when Miss Sinclair jerked into a sitting position.
“A woman on laudanum isn’t violent,” Mrs. Hawkins said, placing the material into the bowl and rising from the floor.
“True.” Miss Sinclair daubed her fingertips beneath her eyes and shuddered. “But a woman without her medication is.”
Striding around Mrs. Hawkins, Miss Webb collected her skirt, sat beside Miss Rowe, and laid a comforting hand on the young girl’s arm. “Your mother won’t learn of this clandestine visit.”
Miss Sinclair’s lower lip trembled. “Are you not concerned?”
“About your mother?” Miss Webb tilted her head, adding a soft chuckle.
“About what was printed in today’s newspaper regarding Miss Rowe’s past?” Miss Sinclair lowered her gaze, avoiding Helena’s eyes.
