On Friday, Mama arrived home with Toby. “Kinsey!” She rushed into Papa’s arms in the entry where Helen and Diana stood waiting to greet her.

Papa enveloped her in a hug. “How is Alexander?”

“Healing well. He prefers to remain with his grandfather, and I thought it wise not to make him endure a journey in the coach.” She leaned back to scrutinize him. “Have you been wearing your hat? You’re as brown as a nut.”

He laughed and swung her around in his arms. “And you are even more beautiful than I remember.”

Diana grinned at Helen, as their mother, ignoring Fiske, who was examining his shoes, ran her hand through their father’s copper locks, sprinkled with gray. “You have not forgotten how to charm a lady, I’m pleased to see.” She turned to Helen. “When the footman delivered your note, I was utterly horrified. I do hope you weren’t in danger?”

Helen kissed her mother’s cheek. “Not for a minute.” Helen continued to try, unsuccessfully, to banish all thoughts of Peyton. It was unlikely after the ball they would meet again.

“I am eternally grateful to Lord Peyton for dealing with this. Mrs. Chance! Just imagine. When she came to us a year ago after Mrs. Archer retired and went to live with her sister, she presented perfect references. Can we no longer trust anyone?” She studied Helen’s face then gave a quick nod. “We will talk later.”

“The staff expects me at eleven. I must go over the final details before the ball,” Helen said, relieved to have a reprieve before she came under her mother’s sagacious scrutiny. One word about Peyton and she feared she would dissolve into a puddle like one of Cook’s sculptured ices.

Mama smiled. “Thank you, Helen dear. You are a blessing. I am too exhausted and bewildered to be of much use until I have had a nap to refresh me.”

Papa eyed her speculatively for a minute before addressing Toby. “My boy, it is good to see you. I trust you are pleased to be home?”

“I am, Papa. Catching tadpoles for Zander and playing cribbage with Grandfather had begun to pall.”

Her father laughed and ushered them into the morning room. Papa sipped a glass of claret Fiske handed him and, prompted by Toby, related the fascinating highlights of his journey. Wishing she could remain to hear every detail, Helen reluctantly excused herself.

Diana followed Helen out and slipped an arm around her waist as they walked toward the servants’ stairs. “Thank you for taking over from Mrs. Chance. Even though Papa has requested the employment agency send someone, it is far too late.”

Helen smiled. “’Tis my pleasure.”

“You have a natural talent for it, I must say. It would bore me to distraction.” Diana paused, a hand on the newel post. “You’ll make an excellent wife and mother, running your own household.”

Pain clawed at Helen’s heart. “Please don’t, Diana. I beg you.”

“For a sensible person, you are being remarkably dull-witted,” Diana said fiercely. “I hope that Peyton will shake some sense into you!”

Helen watched her sister stalk away. Diana was young and had little understanding of how damning and cruel society could be. She prayed Diana would never experience it as she continued down the stairs. Might it be possible that Peyton would ask her again? She both feared and welcomed it. She could not deny that when he’d kissed her she’d responded with unrestrained passion, her normally practical mind deserting her. She hadn’t wanted his kisses to end, and it had taken all her strength to push him away. If he’d remained a minute longer, she might have weakened and thrown herself into his arms.

A sleepless night brought no solution, leaving her feeling as if she was floating, rudderless in a stormy sea. But to tell him of her past and see the respect he had for her fade from his green eyes would be the end of her.

In the servants’ hall, everyone waited, having responded to her summons. She looked around at the group of expectant faces. “Good morning.” She managed to sound proficient.

An hour later, confident that every last detail had been seen to, Helen reluctantly made her way upstairs. She met her father in the corridor leaving her mother’s boudoir. He winked. “Listen to your mother’s advice, daughter. She is never wrong.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Inside the bedroom, her mother sat alone at the dressing table in her wrap, coiling her hair into a chignon. Her face reflected in the glass bore a healthy flush.

“How is Alexander, Mama? And Grandfather? Did you leave them in good health?”

“Grandfather is well. Alexander’s leg was not broken. It’s merely a bad sprain. He is healing well, although it will take a month or so before he has completely recovered. We’ll talk more about that later.” She turned on the stool. “Your father tells me you have refused Lord Peyton.”

“Yes.” Helen groaned inwardly and sank onto the sofa.

Mama rose to join her. “But why, my dear? It’s an excellent match. And not because he’s an earl; he cares for you.”

“He believes I am something I’m not.”

“Nonsense. He knows exactly who you are. A dear sweet, caring person. I believe he needs a bit of mothering himself.”

“Peyton?” Helen was shocked. She never thought of him that way. He was so commanding, so confident. “He’s a hardened soldier.” The suggestion that he might need her was enticing, and she fought not to let it sway her decision.

“Peyton’s mother died giving birth to his brother. He has been away at war, and now that his father is gone, he is head of the family with all the responsibilities that entails. Who cares for Peyton? He may not be aware that he needs it. Men are inclined to be blind to such things. They feel they must be strong all the time. And find solutions for everything.” She smiled. “But even your intrepid father needs my support and comfort. While I need his strength.” Mama’s eyes grew misty. “And his love.”

Helen leaned close and breathed in her mother’s familiar flowery scent, which was usually reassuring, although not today. “But it wouldn’t be fair to him. He would feel that because he’s asked for my hand, and addressed Papa, he is committed to marrying me.”

“I think you underestimate Peyton.”

“I…I don’t believe I do.”

“He has a good deal of character. I like him very much, and so does your father.”

“Yes. I thought he did.”

“I know you feel you’re doing the honorable thing, my dear. But love, and I am sure Peyton does love you, can overcome most obstacles. Will you promise me that you’ll at least reconsider his offer?” Mama placed an arm around her. “I’ve been observing the two of you and believed…” She sighed. “I had such hopes for you, dear child.”

What good would it do, when the answer must always be the same? “I promise, Mama.” Helen rested her head on her mother’s shoulder and sadly resisted saying anything more.

 

***

Russell appeared at the breakfast room door. “Mr. Dalby from Bow Street is here to see you, my lord.”

Jason looked up from the newspaper he was reading, his kippers half eaten. “Send him in, Russell.” He motioned to the footman for more coffee and pushed his plate away, his appetite deserting him.

The runner hurried into the room still in his greatcoat, hat in hand. “Sorry to bother you so early, Lord Peyton, but the magistrate wanted to alert you to the fact that the man claiming to be Baron Bianchi has slipped the net.”

Jason pushed back his chair. “How did he manage to do that? He was here in London yesterday.” And tonight, Bianchi expected to be granted Lizzie’s hand. “What caused him to run?”

“We don’t know, milord. We went to his digs this morning and discovered he’d packed up and left some hours before.”

“Could he have known you were after him?”

“One of our men followed him last night, but he gave him the slip. Must have got wind of it.”

Jason tightened his jaw. “Your man must have stood out like a sore thumb.”

“It appears that Bianchi, so called, and another gentleman left in a carriage several hours ago, milord. Traveling north to Liverpool.”

“Where are they off to, Ireland or New York?” Jason mused. “They’re after fresh pickings, eh, Dalby.” Jason did not have the authority to arrest Bianchi. He’d need the runner to accompany him. “Care to pursue them?”

Dalby pulled back his greatcoat and indicated the gun that runners always carried with them. “Left my horse in your stables. I’m keen, milord.”

Jason turned to the footman. “Henry, send word to the groom. I want Icarus saddled. Dalby, there’s coffee in the pot. Help yourself. We shall leave in a few minutes.”

He ran up to Lizzie’s rooms.

“Lady Greywood has just left for Madam Bernard’s salon in Oxford Street,” Sally said. “She needs an alteration to her ball gown.”

Jason cursed under his breath. “Why didn’t you accompany her?”

“Milady wished me to finish some mending.” She flushed and eyed a corset on the table beside her workbasket.

Jason went to bang on Charlie’s door then remembered his brother had stayed with a friend the previous evening after attending a bachelor dinner.

His only chance to change Helen’s mind was the ball tonight. If he failed to appear, he feared he might not get another.

In Oxford Street, Jason left Dalby with the horses and strode into Madam Bernard’s salon, causing a lady to shriek and disappear behind a curtain.

Madam Bernard erupted from a dressing room, moving with surprising speed for one so well endowed. “Milord?”

“Madam. I believe my sister, Lady Greywood, is here?”

“Yes. Milord.” The modiste turned and addressed the stunned servant with her. “Annie, fetch Lady Greywood. “Would you care to take a seat in the salon, Lord Peyton? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

Relieved to find Lizzie safe, Jason tamped down his impatience, keen to continue his pursuit. “No, thank you.”

Madam Bernard twisted the tape measure around her neck with her fingers. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can assist Lady Greywood.”

“Thank you.”

As Jason stalked the now empty salon, Lizzie hurried from the dressing room in her wrap. “Jason! What has happened?”

He quickly explained and told her to go home as soon as she could and stay there. “I shall endeavor to return in time to escort you to the ball.”

She placed a hand on Jason’s arm, her eyes dark. “Oh, Jason. You must want to see Lady Helen tonight. This is all my fault. You will take care, won’t you?”

“None of this is your fault, Lizzie. There’s nothing to fear. I have an able-bodied runner with me.”

He joined Dalby, and they rode through the London streets. “It rained heavily during the night,” Jason said. “The muddy roads might slow the carriage up.”

Dalby nodded. “We’ll get ’em, yer lordship.”

“I want to bring them back alive, Dalby,” Jason called before taking advantage of the clear stretch ahead. He squeezed his horse’s flanks, urging Icarus into a gallop.

“Right you are,” Dalby replied as he rode alongside him. “Providing they come peaceable like.”