Cold-Hearted Rake
“They were probably discussing the wedding,” Kathleen said, “since that was when Mr. Winterborne told her he wanted to plan it.”
“No, I don’t think that was why they were at odds. I wish I could have heard more.”
“You should have used my drinking glass trick,” Pandora said impatiently. “If I’d been there, I would be able to tell you every word that was said.”
“I went upstairs,” Cassandra continued, “and just as I reached the top, I saw Mr. Winterborne leave. Helen came upstairs a few minutes afterward, and her face was very red, as if she’d been crying.”
“Did she say anything about what happened?” Kathleen asked.
Cassandra shook her head.
Pandora frowned, reaching up to her hair. Gingerly touching the pinned section Cassandra had been working on, she said, “These don’t feel like puffs. They feel like giant caterpillars.”
A swift smile was wrenched from Kathleen’s lips as she regarded the pair. Heaven help her, she loved the two of them. Although she was not wise or old enough to be their mother, she was all they had in the way of maternal guidance.
“I’ll look in on Helen,” she said, standing. She reached for Pandora’s hair and separated one of the caterpillars into two puffs, using a pin from Cassandra to anchor it.
“What are you going to say if she tells you that she had a row with Winterborne?” Cassandra asked.
“I’ll tell her to have more of them,” Kathleen said. “One can’t allow a man to have his way all the time.” She paused reflectively. “Once Lord Berwick told me that when a horse pulls at the reins, one should never pull back. Instead, loosen them. But never more than an inch.”
As Kathleen let herself into Helen’s room, she heard the muffled sounds of weeping. “Dear, what is it?” she asked, moving swiftly to the bedside. “Are you in pain? What can I do?”
Helen shook her head and blotted her eyes with the sleeve of her nightgown.
Kathleen went to pour a glass of water from the jug on the nightstand and brought it to her. She propped a pillow beneath Helen’s head, gave her a dry handkerchief, and straightened the covers. “Is the migraine still bad?”
“Dreadful,” Helen whispered. “Even my skin hurts.”
Pulling a chair to the bedside, Kathleen sat and regarded her with aching concern. “What brought this on?” she dared to ask. “Did something happen during Mr. Winterborne’s visit? Something besides discussing the wedding?”
Helen responded with a minuscule nod, her jaw trembling.
Kathleen’s thoughts whirled as she wondered how to help Helen, who seemed on the verge of falling apart. She hadn’t seen her this undone since Theo’s death.
“I wish you would tell me,” she said. “My imagination is running amok. What did Winterborne do to make you so unhappy?”
“I can’t say,” Helen whispered.
Kathleen tried to keep her voice calm. “Did he force himself on you?”
A long silence followed. “I don’t know,” Helen said in a sodden voice. “He wanted… I don’t know what he wanted. I’ve never —” She stopped and blew her nose into the handkerchief.
“Did he hurt you?” Kathleen forced herself to ask.
“No. But he kept kissing me and wouldn’t stop, and… I didn’t like it. It wasn’t at all what I thought kissing would be. And he put his hand… somewhere he shouldn’t. When I pushed him away, he looked angry and said something sharp that sounded like… I thought I was too good for him. He said other things as well, but there was too much Welsh mixed in. I didn’t know what to do. I started to cry, and he left without another word.” She gave a few hiccupping sobs. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“But I did, I must have.” Helen lifted her thin fingers to her temples, pressing lightly over the cloth that covered them.
Winterborne, you ham-handed sod, Kathleen thought furiously. Is it really so difficult for you to be gentle with a shy young woman, the first time you kiss her? “Obviously he has no idea how to behave with an innocent girl,” she said quietly.
“Please don’t tell anyone. I would die. Please promise.”
“I promise.”
“I must make Mr. Winterborne understand that I didn’t mean to make him angry —”
“Of course you didn’t. He should know that.” Kathleen hesitated. “Before you proceed with the wedding plans, perhaps we should take some time to reconsider the engagement.”
“I don’t know.” Helen winced and gasped. “My head is throbbing. Right now I feel as if I never want to see him again. Please, would you give me some more Godfrey’s Cordial?”
“Yes, but first you must eat something. Cook is making broth and blancmange. It will be ready soon. Shall I leave the room? I think my talking has made your migraine worse.”
“No, I want company.”
“I’ll stay, then. Rest your poor head.”
Helen obeyed, subsiding. In a moment, there was a quiet sniffle. “I’m so disappointed,” she whispered. “About kissing.”
“Darling, no,” Kathleen said, her heart breaking a little. “You haven’t really been kissed. It’s different with the right man.”
“I don’t see how it could be. I thought… I thought it would be like listening to beautiful music, or… or watching the sunrise on a clear morning. And instead…”