Marrying Winterborne

“It occurs to me,” West said, ducking his head to keep from colliding with a hanging basket filled with mixed plants, “that this is the first time you and the twins will have stayed in London for more than a night with no family to look after you.”

“There’s Lady Berwick,” Helen pointed out.

“She’s not family.”

“Kathleen thinks well of her.”

“Only because Lady Berwick took her in after her parents tried to set her out on a street corner with a sign saying FREE CHILD hung around her neck. Oh, I know Kathleen regards her as the fount of all wisdom and benevolence, but you and I are both aware that this isn’t going to be easy. The countess and Pandora will go at it beak-and-claw the entire time.”

Helen smiled up at him, seeing the concern in his dark blue eyes. “It’s only for a month. We’ll learn how to get on with her. And Mr. Winterborne will be nearby.”

West’s frown deepened. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Perplexed, Helen asked, “What are you concerned about?”

“That you’ll be manipulated and taken advantage of until you feel like you’ve been flattened in a washing mangle.”

“Mr. Winterborne won’t take advantage of me.”

West snorted. “You only say that because he already has.” Taking Helen by the shoulders, he looked into her upturned face. “Little friend, I want you to be cautious, and remember that London is not a magical land of happiness and cake-shops, and every stranger is not a hero in disguise.”

Helen gave him a reproachful glance. “I’m not that unworldly.”

One of his brows arched. “Are we sure about that? Because the last time you were there, you decided to gallivant off to Winterborne’s unaccompanied, and—oddly enough—returned home thoroughly deflowered.”

Her color heightened. “He and I made a bargain.”

“There was no need for a bargain. He would have married you anyway.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Darling, everyone knew it, except apparently you. No, don’t bother arguing, we haven’t time. Just bear in mind that if you have any trouble at all, if anything goes wrong for you or the twins, I want you to send for me. Have a footman run a note to the nearest telegraph office, and I’ll be there like a shot. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“I promise.” Helen stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, and told him, “I think you’re a hero in disguise.”

“Do you?” West shook his head ruefully. “Then it’s a good thing you don’t know more about me.” He offered her his arm. “Come, it’s time to join the others in the entrance hall. Do you happen to have a pocket-mirror?”

“I’m afraid not. Why?”

“I’ve made you late, which means by now Lady Berwick has sprouted serpents from her head, and I can’t look at her directly.”

TO NO ONE’S surprise, Lady Berwick insisted that Rhys occupy the seat next to hers on the journey up to London. He obliged her, of course, but every now and then he twisted to glance longingly at Helen, who sat in the row behind them with her embroidery hoop.

As Helen worked on an appliqué flower, attaching the edges of a leaf with a delicate featherstitch, she listened unobtrusively to their conversation. Rhys treated Lady Berwick with respectful interest but didn’t seem awed by her in the least. He asked about her favorite subject, horses and their training, saying frankly that he knew little about it and was an adequate rider at best. The admission produced an enthusiastic response from the countess, who loved nothing better than to dispense information and advice.

Helen’s attention was diverted by the twins, who were talking in the seats behind her.

“. . . that word from Othello that we’re not supposed to know,” Pandora was saying.

“Fustilarian?” Cassandra guessed.

“No, silly. And that’s not from Othello, that’s from one of the Henrys. I’m referring to the thing that Othello calls Bianca when he thinks she loves another man.” At her twin’s perplexed expression, Pandora whispered the forbidden word.

“I don’t know that one,” Cassandra said.

“That’s because you read the abridged version. But I read the original, and I looked up the word in the dictionary. It means ‘a woman who lies with a man for money.’”

“Why would a man pay a woman to sleep with him?” Cassandra asked, sounding puzzled. “Unless it’s very cold, and there aren’t enough blankets. But it would be simpler to buy more blankets, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d rather sleep with dogs. They’re much warmer than people.”

Perturbed, Helen reflected that it wasn’t right to keep the twins so sheltered. Years ago, she had taken it upon herself to tell them in advance about their monthly courses, so that when it happened, neither of them would be shocked and terrified, as she had been. Why should they be kept in ignorance of the rest of it? After all, forewarned was forearmed. She decided to explain the basic facts to the twins at the first available opportunity, rather than let them come to the wrong conclusions on their own.

The train arrived at Waterloo Station, the sheds crowded and milling, the air thick with the usual cacophony of noise. As soon as the Ravenels and their retinue descended to the platform, they were met by four blue-uniformed employees from Winterborne’s, who collected their luggage, placed it on wheeled carts, and cleared a path with magical efficiency. Helen was privately amused by Lady Berwick’s struggle not to appear impressed as they were escorted out to a pair of private carriages—one for family, one for the servants—and a wagon for surplus luggage.