Page 88 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“Or touch.”

“That, too.” An ironic smile flickered in Finchley’s eyes. “No doubt I should follow your example and find a proper wife.”

Justin regarded his friend with reluctant amusement. “And if you did…would Miss Holloway be a candidate for the position?”

“What?” Finchley’s ears reddened. “No.” He shook his head. “No. She’s far beyond my reach.”

“She’s a lady’s companion.”

“Who happens to be a distant cousin of the Earl of Castleton.”

“I beg your pardon,” Justin said. “My hearing must be defective. For a moment, it sounded as if you said you couldn’t court a woman because she’s distantly related to a member of the peerage. You. The man who facilitated my marriage to an actual earl’s daughter.”

“It’s not the same.”

“The hell it isn’t.”

“Your father was a baronet,” Finchley retorted in irritation. “Mine may well have been the village drunk. Or worse.”

Justin was ready with a sharp reply, but he had no opportunity to utter it. The door to the parlor pushed open before he could speak and Helena stepped in. She’d changed into a fashionable black silk walking dress trimmed in embossed velvet. A plumed velvet bonnet was clutched in her gloved hand.

Both he and Finchley immediately rose to their feet.

“Forgive the interruption,” she said.

Justin’s gaze swept over her. She was still pale, but she was no longer trembling. Indeed, she looked rather determined. “You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Were you unable to rest?” Finchley asked.

“I’ve had enough of rest.” Helena lifted her chin a fraction. “I would like to go for a walk.”

Justin went to her, his voice low. “Now?”

“If you please.”

He gave her a long, assessing look. “Very well. I’ll fetch my hat.”

Helena took Justin’s arm as they exited the house and proceeded to walk along Half Moon Street in the direction of Green Park. They kept a sedate, comfortable pace, as if they often strolled along together in the heart of fashionable London.

“I’ve resolved not to cling to you anymore,” she said.

He glanced down at her. “Any particular reason?”

“Aside from sparing your poor arm?” She stared straight ahead. “I’m sick to death of being such a frightened, poor-spirited creature.”

“There is nothing poor-spirited about being afraid. You’ve had ample cause.”

“Perhaps. But such fears have touched every aspect of my life. I’ve been so frightened, and so angry about the injustice of it all. It’s changed me. I scarcely know who I am anymore.”

Justin made no reply. His eyes had grown distant, as if he were contemplating some troublesome dilemma of his own.

She walked at his side in silence, her silk and velvet skirts swaying gently with every step. Half Moon Street was a small and rather quiet street, lined with narrow, elegant houses. Two young gentlemen in plaid trousers were walking together toward Piccadilly and a severe-looking nurse was pushing a perambulator toward Curzon Street. Other than that, the street was deserted.

At least, it appeared to be so.

If there were suspicious characters lurking about, she certainly didn’t see them. Not that Mr. Glyde was likely to be hiding behind a lamppost in the broad light of day.

“Do you truly believe such feelings can change a person?” Justin asked abruptly.