LITMIR.BIZ

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staying—Mrs Henderson and her daughter Helene.’

      ‘Really? I must call tomorrow,’ Toby said. He looked round as they entered the sporting club together. ‘Are you going to box or fence today?’

      ‘I thought to see who was here,’ Max said. ‘Do you fancy yourself with the foils, Sinclair?’

      ‘Well, I’m not sure I’m up to your mark, Coleridge,’ Toby said and grinned. ‘But I’m game if you are?’

      ‘Delighted,’ Max said and clapped him on the back. ‘Tell you the truth, I’ve been missing Harry and Gerard. Harry invited me down to Pendleton, and I may go in a few weeks, but I have not heard a word from Ravenshead since he went to France. I am not certain he intends to return.’

      ‘Oh, I think he may,’ Toby said. ‘Susannah told me that he had written to Harry. He has been delayed, but he has engaged an English nanny for his daughter and I think he will open the house at Ravenshead in another month or so.’

      ‘Ah, that is good news. I dare say he may visit with Harry and Susannah for a while, and I shall certainly go down at the end of the Season.’ Unless he found a lady to propose to in the meantime, Max thought. He said nothing of his plans to take a wife, which had been forming slowly for a while.

      He did not know why he had not married sooner—he wished to have children, and not simply because he needed an heir for his estate. Max had been an only child after his younger brother died in childhood. He had joined the army more out of a desire for companionship than a wish to be a soldier and had formed some strong friendships. However, Harry Pendleton’s marriage to a spirited young girl, and Gerard’s absence in France, had made him aware that his life was empty.

      If he could find a girl who would put up with him—one he could feel comfortable with on a daily basis—he might decide to settle down quite soon. Max was not sure whether or not he needed to love the girl. Perhaps that was not necessary for a marriage of convenience. Affection and compatibility was possibly more important? He did not think that he could put up with a simpering miss who was interested only in her new gown or some fresh trinket, though he could afford to indulge his wife with all the trinkets she required. A little smile touched his mouth as he recalled the girl and the donkey. Now Helene certainly had spirit and her indignant look had made him smile…

      Helene glanced at herself in the cheval mirror. Her gown was not as stylish as some Amelia wore, but, caught high under the bust with a band of embroidery, it became her well. She had added a new spangled stole and some long white gloves and white slippers. Her dark brown hair was dressed simply in a knot at the back of her head, fastened with pearl pins, and she wore a string of pearls about her throat. They had belonged to her father’s grandmother, so she had been told, and were the only jewellery she possessed, apart from a matching pair of earbobs.

      A knock at the door announced a visitor. Helene had dismissed her maid once she was ready, and called out that whoever it was might enter. She smiled as the door opened and Emily entered. She was wearing a dark blue gown, very simple in design, but of quality silk and cut most elegantly.

      ‘You look lovely,’ Helene exclaimed. ‘I like you in blue, Emily. I do not know why you do not wear it more often.’

      ‘Amelia has been trying to wean me from grey for a long time,’ Emily said. ‘I am particularly fond of blue, but I used to think it was not a suitable colour for a companion.’

      ‘Amelia does not think of you in that way,’ Helene assured her. Her face was thoughtful as she studied the other woman. Emily looked much younger now that she had abandoned her habitual grey. ‘I believe she values you as a friend.’

      ‘Yes, she has told me so many times,’ Emily agreed. For a moment she looked sad, but it passed and she was smiling again. ‘You are beautiful, Helene. That dress becomes you.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Helene glanced at her reflection once more. ‘It is not as stylish as your gown, or those we have ordered, I dare say—but I do not think I shall disgrace Amelia this evening.’

      ‘I am very certain you will not,’ Emily said and laughed softly. ‘You look everything you ought, Helene. I was sent to see if you were ready—shall we go down?’

      ‘Yes, of course,’ Helene said. ‘I am a little nervous about this evening. It is my first outing into London society and I am not sure what to expect.’

      ‘That is why Amelia chose carefully for you,’ Emily said. ‘I am sure everyone will approve of you, Helene, for your manners are good and you think before you speak—and I think you will like Lady Marsh, who is your hostess this evening, for she is very kind. She is Lord Coleridge’s great-aunt on his father’s side. She has been kind to me even though I am just a companion.’

      ‘You are a lady, anyone can see that,’ Helene said. ‘Being a companion does not make you any the less respectable, Emily.’

      Emily laughed. ‘That is not always the opinion of everyone, Helene—but I am very fortunate to have Amelia as my employer. She is respected everywhere. Because of her kindness I have been accepted by most—and you will be, too, Helene.’

      ‘Thank you, I feel a little better now. Shall we go?’

      Helene’s nerves returned when they alighted from the carriage and walked along the carpet that had been laid on the ground outside the large house to protect the ladies from getting their gowns soiled. Lanterns were being held for them by linkboys, and the carriage had been obliged to queue when they first arrived—and this was supposed to be a modest affair! Helene was glad of Emily’s company as they walked into the house together. They were greeted first by their hostess. Lady Marsh was a small plump lady of perhaps sixty years, dressed in a purple gown and a gold turban, and she kept them talking for a moment before allowing them to pass on to the reception rooms.

      The first elegant salon was half-empty, a mere half a dozen couples standing around, talking and greeting each other. Amelia smiled and greeted two ladies, who lifted their hands in welcome as they entered. She introduced Mrs Henderson and Helene.

      ‘Lady Renton, Lady Jamieson,’ she said, ‘may I make you known to some good friends who have come to stay with me for a while—Mrs Henderson, and Miss Helene Henderson…and, of course, you know my dearest Emily.’

      Helene felt herself being scrutinised. She dipped a respectful curtsy, wondering if she were being approved. Lady Renton seemed a little aloof in her manner, as if reserving judgement, though Lady Jamieson was friendly enough. Helene was relieved as they passed on to the next group of two ladies and a gentleman.

      ‘Miss Royston, I am pleased to see you here,’ the gentleman said and then looked at Helene, one eyebrow raised in expectation.

      ‘Mr Bradwell,’ Amelia said. ‘Mrs Bradwell, Miss Bradwell…may I present my friends—Mrs Henderson and Miss Helene Henderson…Mr Nicholas Bradwell and his mama and sister.’

      ‘Charming, quite charming,’ Nicholas Bradwell said and inclined his head. ‘I am happy to make your acquaintance, ma’am—Miss Henderson.’ His eyes had fixed on Helene’s face. ‘Tell me, do you enjoy music, Miss Henderson?’

      ‘Yes, sir, I like it very well.’

      ‘And do you play an instrument yourself perhaps?’

      ‘Yes, sir. I play the pianoforte, though I cannot profess to be accomplished.’

      ‘Helene, you are too modest,’ Mrs Henderson said and gave her a reproving look. ‘My daughter plays very well, sir. I have heard her spoken of as talented, but she does not like to say so herself.’

      ‘A truly modest young lady.’ Nicholas Bradwell looked at her and nodded. He was a gentleman of perhaps forty years or so. Of medium height and slim build, he was dressed fashionably, his hair cut short and brushed back from his forehead, the wings sprinkled with grey. ‘Perhaps you would let me take you in, Miss Henderson? I shall make you known to your fellow guests.’

      Helene glanced at her mother, who

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