Page 100 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“It’s the truth, my lord.”

Lord Wolverton’s bushy silver brows beetled into a disbelieving frown. “Don’t know how Castleton could keep anything from you. You’re of age, aren’t you? Unless the will was found to be invalid.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then I don’t see what the man’s argument is. The law’s the law.”

Yes, it was, Helena thought bitterly, but only for men, and even then, only for the most powerful. For women, and for the poor, the infirm, and the friendless, the law rarely provided any comfort or protection.

“The law is only as good as the men who enforce it,” she said.

Lord Wolverton missed a step, nearly treading on her foot. He muttered an apology. “One doesn’t anticipate a legal discussion when waltzing with a handsome young lady.”

“No, indeed. Forgive me, my lord.” Helena had no idea how she managed to keep her voice so steady. “There will be ample time to discuss these matters in the days to come.”

Lord Wolverton’s gaze was sharp as a freshly honed razor. “Just what are you up to, madam?”

“Nothing untoward, sir, I assure you.” Helena looked him straight in the eye as he turned her again.

Somehow, she managed to keep her countenance through the remainder of the dance, but when Lord Wolverton handed her back to Justin, she could feel herself beginning to tremble.

“Will you take me outside please?” she asked him.

Justin did so without question, only stopping to fetch her evening cloak. He draped it round her shoulders as he escorted her through the doors that led out onto the marble terrace.

It was cold outside, but after the oppressive heat of the ballroom, Helena welcomed it.

“What happened?” Justin asked.

She shook her head. “Nothing, nothing.” And then, “Perhaps it’s all too much for me. Seeing all of these people. Having to pretend.”

He leaned against the marble railing of the terrace, regarding her with the same unreadable expression he’d worn since their arrival. “It’s not all pretending, is it?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. “When will Mr. Pelham publish his editorial? He said it would be in a week, but it’s been ten days since he came to Half Moon Street. Is there something you’re not telling me? Has something gone wrong?”

“If it had, I wouldn’t keep it from you.” He folded his arms. “Pelham is just being thorough. Finchley says he’s even tracked down the antecedents of Mr. Glyde, if you can believe it. Though Glyde himself continues to prove somewhat elusive.”

Helena’s gaze drifted over the garden below. Oil-burning torches placed along the perimeter illuminated small sections of the fashionable landscaping. The remainder of the garden was cast in shifting shadows and darkness. “He could be here right now.”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“Have you been looking?”

“Naturally,” Justin said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

She sighed. “How much like a duty you make it sound. I wish—” She broke off, listening as the orchestra began the music for the next dance. It was the lancers. She couldn’t recall to whom she’d promised it.

Justin stepped forward and took her hand. He flicked open the dance card at her wrist, reading the entry in the light of a nearby torch. “Lord Wexford.”

“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten.” She looked through the terrace doors. Inside, the ballroom glittered with gaslight and candles. The guests glittered as well, the ladies dripping with jeweled necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. “We’d better go back before he misses me.”

Justin kept hold of her hand. He was looking at the signatures in her dance card and frowning. “I thought you’d promised every dance.”

“I did.”

“Then what are all of these blank spots?”

An embarrassed blush warmed her cheeks. “They’re your dances. I saved them for you. Unless you’d rather—”