Up until their interview earlier that day, he would have sworn she would have been outraged. Now, he was no longer so sure. What he did know, however, was that his actions had been inexcusable. And wrong.
Before he could muster a response, Helena swept past him, leaving him alone in the lady’s withdrawing room, wallowing in equal parts shame and lust. What the hell had he done?
More importantly, how was he going to make amends this time?
Chapter Seven
There are those who would argue that women should be denied Parliamentary franchise because involving us in politics will prove damaging to our constitutions and characters. One cannot help but to wonder what people of such an opinion think of the characters and constitutions of men…
—From Lady’s Suffrage Society Times
“You look utterly miserable, darling.”
The words took Helena by surprise, and for a moment, she feared they had been directed at her. But much to her relief, Callie, Lady Sinclair, had issued her pronouncement to Lady Jo Decker instead.
The women were both newly married, and they were leading members of the Lady’s Suffrage Society. She had become fast friends with them through their shared work, and Helena was keen to introduce Julianna to them now that she had returned to London. But first things first—they had gathered over tea.
And Helena was relieved for the much-needed distraction her friends brought her. Because those stolen moments in the lady’s withdrawing room with Huntingdon had been…
Thrilling.
Wonderful.
Terrible.
Yes, all those words would be quite apt descriptors. Her unexpected kisses with him had left her once more in a hopeless state of inner turmoil. She wanted him, but he was betrothed to another. He seemed to want her, and yet he hated himself for doing so. Either way, she was not any closer to ridding herself of her impending marriage to Lord Hamish. As it was, she had all but fled the dinner at Lord and Lady Hartstock’s, and she had not seen him since.
She forced herself to study Lady Jo now, who did seem rather Friday-faced for a new bride.
“You do look as if you just watched a carriage run over a puppy,” Helena added.
Jo frowned at both Callie and Helena. “Et tu, Brute? The two of you are supposed to be my friends.”
“It is because we are your friends that we are telling you that you look as if you are about to attend a funeral,” Callie said.
“Or as if someone has just drowned your favorite kitten,” Helena chimed in, fearing she looked little better herself.
Her future loomed before her, a forbidding pastoral of misery.
“What a grim lot you are,” Jo grumbled. “Cease with your bleak similes, if you please.”
“You ought to be on your honeymoon,” Callie observed. “And yet, you are here in London. Is that the reason?”
“Of course that is not the reason,” Jo said.
“Then what is the reason?” Callie frowned. “Is anyone else famished? I am going to ring for a tray of cakes and biscuits. Is it wrong to suddenly be beset by the urge to eat quail eggs at this time of day? Do not answer that. Tell us what has you so distressed, dearest.”
Callie was expecting her first child, though one could not tell to look at her. She was a petite, dark-haired beauty with a slender frame and an inimitable sense of fashion.
“I could eat quail eggs at any time of day,” Helena offered as Callie went to the bell pull, not as much because it was true as because she had no wish for her friend to feel uncomfortable.
“I am in love with my husband,” Jo blurted, surprising Helena, for Jo’s marriage had been rushed and, as she claimed, not a love match. It had instead been another case of an overbearing lord browbeating a lady into doing her familial duty. If only someone would browbeat Helena into doing her familial duty with Huntingdon. She would more than happily accept.
But alas, that was not meant to be.
Unless…
No. Helena dared not contemplate such a manipulation.
Callie turned back to them all, looking pleased. “I knew you were in love with him!”
Helena blinked, thinking for a moment the words were meant for her again. They were not, however. She had been too preoccupied with the unsettling idea which had erupted in her mind, much like a volcano.
Dangerous and destructive.
She banished the thoughts, knowing them unworthy.
“How did you know?” Jo asked.
“You made it quite apparent the day I suggested Helena use Decker to cause a scandal,” Callie said gently, returning to her seat. “That is wonderful, dearest! I know this marriage was a bit rushed, but I am relieved to hear the two of you are in love.”
“Not the two of us,” Jo said. “I fear I am alone in my feelings.”
A hated state Helena knew all too well. Still, she had seen the manner in which Mr. Elijah Decker, the handsome businessman Jo had so recently wed, looked at his wife. If only Huntingdon would gaze at her with such longing in his eyes, rather than with disgust over his lack of gentlemanly decorum.
“But the way he looks at you,” Helena argued, shaking herself from the unworthy thought, “I would be willing to wager you are wrong.”
“I fear not.” Jo sighed heavily. “He has never hinted at the slightest bit of feelings, and for a man of his reputation…”
That, too, sounded familiar. Huntingdon had never admitted to caring for her or for possessing any tender emotions toward her in the slightest. Of course he did not love her. Could not love her.
And yet, the idea was still there. The unwanted notion. Tempting. Taunting.
Did she dare? All this time, she had been attempting to ruin herself with other gentlemen, and the only one she had managed to behave scandalously with was the man she loved. And if she was faced with having no choice other than to marry Lord Hamish, could she truly be desperate enough to use Huntingdon’s actions in the lady’s withdrawing room against him?
She looked inside herself and the answer was undeniable: yes. She was.
They discussed Decker’s past for a few minutes, and Helena was grateful for the diversion. Until the conversation turned back to her.
“Enough about me, if you please,” Lady Jo said. “I am certain it shall all untangle itself as it ought. How is your campaign against the odious Lord Hamish going, my dear?”
Compromising herself to avoid marrying Lord Hamish had been an idea she and her friends had developed together. Heat crept over Helena’s cheeks.
Here was her opportunity to consult her friends and see what opinions they held on the matter. “I do believe I may have convinced someone to aid me in my quest to be ruined.”
“Tell us everything,” Callie demanded.
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of a maid.
“After I arrange for my biscuits, cakes, and quail eggs, of course,” she amended, grinning.
Helena waited for her friend to make her unusual request to the kitchens before explaining everything that had happened to her thus far, detailing Huntingdon’s successful attempts to keep her from other gentlemen, up until the kiss they had shared.
“He seems dreadfully invested for a man who has recently celebrated his betrothal to another lady,” Callie pointed out shrewdly.
The reminder of Lady Beatrice nettled.