“Until Miss Rowe confirms the story,” Miss Webb glanced at Helena, who vehemently shook her head, “I refuse to believe what I’ve read. As should you.”
“Even if the rumor was true…” Miss Sinclair finally raised her head to meet Helena’s gaze. “To run from a fiancé, Miss Rowe would have had an excellent reason.”
If ever there was the moment to reveal the truth to her companions, this was it, but Helena couldn’t bear the thought of watching disappointment spread across their faces, especially when they learned her name wasn’t Helena as she’d claimed over the past few months.
“You’re correct,” Helena said, climbing onto the sofa. “Only an inexcusable offense would justify my severing a promise to wed.”
She said nothing more, allowing her words to twist into suppositions and false beliefs about her character.
“Which is what,” Mrs. Hawkins said, adding a firm nod, “any sane woman would do when faced with a disparaging situation. If you would excuse me, I’d like to finish preparing the meal before the afternoon.”
As Mrs. Hawkins swept from the room, Miss Webb leaned forward, craning around Miss Sinclair until she caught Helena’s eye.
“Not every person will feel the same.” She offered Helena a sympathetic smile. “Many members of the ton will denounce you as Mrs. Sinclair has, even without evidence. However, I have an idea.”
“What do you suggest?” Miss Fernsby-Webb asked as she perched on a nearby armchair, staring at her sister.
“To combat a rumor, one must expose a greater scandal.”
Helena sighed. “I don’t know any.”
Except about herself.
“You don’t need to.” Miss Webb rose and strode to the fireplace. “What type of person would deign to write such a dreadful statement about Miss Rowe?”
“A jealous one,” Miss Fernsby-Webb muttered.
“Exactly,” Miss Webb said, spinning around. “And if a reputable source, such as Miss Sinclair, were to advise the printer that today’s gossip was fabricated by a malicious competitor…”
“Then a correction in tomorrow’s newspaper would dispel any negative effects from the lie!” Miss Fernsby-Webb jumped up and clapped her hands together. “An excellent plan.”
“Except,” Miss Sinclair said, her wispy voice barely reaching Helena, “whoever is responsible may resort to a worse revenge.”
“In addition to burglary?” Miss Fernsby-Webb asked, sinking onto the arm of the chair. “Miss Rowe’s guests were robbed last night in their sleep.”
Miss Sinclair’s mouth popped open. “Someone stole from a duke?”
“Three,” Helena replied, misery washing over her.
After all her lies, she deserved to be tortured by Humphrey in this life and the next.
“I’ll do it!” Her eyes shining, Miss Sinclair jumped up. “I’ll speak with the printer.”
“Are you certain?” Helena asked, rising as well. “We could send an anonymous missive with the information.”
“How will we know the printer read the letter?” Miss Sinclair asked, her eyes rounding to the size of teacup saucers. “If I go in person this afternoon, we’re certain he will run the article in tomorrow’s printing.”
“I agree,” Miss Webb said, disappearing from the parlor.
Her sister frowned at the doorway through which Miss Webb vanished.
“You’ll need a few coins to pay the printer,” Miss Fernsby-Webb said, returning her gaze to Helena. “Miss Rowe, do you have a few farthings in your reticule?”
How would she explain why her winnings vanished? She’d told Mr. Hughes none of her items disappeared.
Helena opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat.
“She doesn’t need money,” Miss Webb said as she glided into the room, holding a folded missive. “I included a pound with this statement regarding the false attack on Miss Rowe.”
