Gwen cleared her throat, obviously trying to gain his attention. From the sound of it, she’d been trying for some time. Finally he gathered his wits, ripped his gaze from Helaine’s, and turned on his sister.
“Are you quite well, Gwen? It sounds as if you are coming down with an illness.”
“I think,” she said slowly, her words carefully enunciated, “I believe you need to visit your hideout.”
“Whatever are you talking about?”
“The Chandler, you idiot. I think you need to take an afternoon to recover your wits.”
Robert felt his jaw go slack in astonishment, his mind working furiously. However had she learned about that place? It was absolutely certain that no one of his acquaintance would speak of it. Certainly not to her. Meanwhile Gwen was prattling on, directing her words toward her in-laws and Helaine.
“He has this place. I heard the coachman tell Dribbs about it. A ramshackle building where he goes to think and be by himself. As if we are such a bother to him that he needs to escape us. It’s quite the other way around, you know. We need the rest from him. And so I am telling you, brother dear, go away. Return when you are thinking more clearly.”
Robert released a slow breath. Clearly his sister didn’t know the Chandler’s sordid history. She was babbling on as if it were nothing more than a dreary gentlemen’s club. That was a relief, of course, until he chanced to look at Helaine.
She knew. He could see it in her tightened lips and downcast eyes. She knew exactly what the Chandler used to be. And she naturally came to the wrong conclusion about what he did when he went there.
“Let me explain—” He didn’t get a chance to continue.
“By all means, my lord,” Helaine said stiffly. “You have been most generous in sharing your time with us. Pray do not let us detain you.”
“It’s not what you think,” he said firmly. Then he was stuck, because all the women were looking at him, waiting for him to explain. But he couldn’t. Not in front of Gwen, who was completely ignorant of the whole of it. Certainly not in front of his future in-laws. As for Helaine, he wanted to be alone with her when he told her about that part of his life. He wanted her to know the real him, the man who did indeed love every minute he spent at the Chandler the way it was now.
But he couldn’t say it now. “Very well,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I can see that you ladies wish to be rid of me. But I beg of you, Mrs. Mortimer, please spare me some time this evening after I return. I should like a word with you.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary—”
“On the contrary, I insist. Directly after dinner, if you would.” Then he belatedly realized that he sounded as if he were giving her an order. “It is a request, you know, not a demand, but I would be exceedingly grateful for your time.”
He waited for her to dip her chin in acknowledgment. It took awhile, but she finally did, so he took his leave. He had plans for tonight. Big plans. And precious little time to prepare.
It was with true dismay that Helaine realized she was an illogical, contrary creature. Not so long ago, she had walked out of an inn room intending never to speak again to Lord Redhill. And yet, not more than two days later, she had gone to stay at his house. And now, one week later, she had not only spent a very late night in conversation with him, but then proceeded to spend a lovely day shopping with him as well. And when he left them—to go to a brothel, no less—she found herself missing him quite dreadfully. He had a keen mind and actually listened to what she said. He could be quite funny when he put his mind to it and, all in all, was a delightful companion even for such a female thing as shopping.
So when he left after tea, she told herself she was glad of his absence. After all, any man who had to go to a brothel to restore his good humor was not an ideal companion. And yet, no matter how stern she was with herself, she could not keep her mind from wandering back to him. If she saw a fabric, she wondered what it would look like on him. If someone said something particularly witty, she listened for his low chuckle. And worst of all, she kept turning around to share this or that with him, only to realize he wasn’t there.
Illogical and foolish! And yet she couldn’t stop herself. Nor could she keep herself from speculating on what he could possibly want to discuss with her after dinner. But she had a job to do now, and so she continued to shop with the women until they were all dropping with fatigue.
Then a miracle happened that solved all her immediate problems: Gwen asked about dancing slippers. Helaine suggested they all retire to her shop, where she was trying out a new shoemaker. It was Penny, of course, who was still staying with Helaine’s mother. The girl had made a couple pairs of delightfully feminine shoes for Francine and so Helaine had decided to promote her work more extensively. Plus, the ladies wanted to see Irene’s shipment of Brussels lace. Irene had apparently been able to use their new lines of credit with the cloth merchants as leverage against the ship captains. What that meant was beyond Helaine’s understanding, except to know that Irene had brought the lace plus a few more bolts of silk to the shop just yesterday. And now that Francine’s father had paid her bill—the girl was apparently enjoying her new wardrobe to the fullest—Helaine could afford to buy the bolts from Irene and send the woman out for more purchases.
Success was within sight—or at least disaster was stepping farther and farther away—and that was a miracle all in itself. Now she just had to build on everything she’d put in place and make sure nothing untoward happened to disrupt it. Something unsettling and unexpected—like an evening’s discussion with a frustrating viscount. But that was tonight’s problem. For right now, everyone was in good spirits as they tromped the short distance to her shop. And while all the ladies were fitted, Helaine wrote a note to Lord Redhill delaying their after-dinner meeting. She would be staying the night at her home here, she wrote, and so would be pleased to speak with him on the morrow.
She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but she hoped with a good night’s sleep she would have better control over her emotional state. Then she waved the ladies good-bye, spoke a few brief words with Penny, who was departing for her father’s workshop so that she could get started on the work, and then kissed her mother before disappearing into her bedroom for a well-deserved nap. Sweet heaven, it was lovely to sink into oblivion without fear of handsome men with brown coats and warm chocolate eyes. No bookkeeping, no whisper of poverty, not even hunger kept her awake. And for a few hours, she was completely ignorant of the world.
Until her mother came tapping at the door. Helaine had already been stirring. She was not a woman accustomed to naps, so a few hours of sleep had both refreshed her and left her disturbingly out of sorts. She had been thinking of Robert, of course, her mind wandering over some of their most pleasant moments, when her mother interrupted.
Helaine immediately climbed out of bed and opened the door. “Yes?”
“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!” her mother exclaimed as she looked at her.
“What?”
“Your dress. Your hair! Oh, even your cheeks are creased!”
Helaine was hard put to make sense of her mother. Of course she was creased from head to toe. She’d just woken up. Although she did manage to look down and see how badly she had damaged her dress. “I suppose I should have undressed before I lay down, but—”
“Never mind that now! Come, come. Let’s get you into something more suitable right away.”