duke?” she asked, the words out before she could stop them. She’d learned five years ago that her fiancé would not appear for arrivals or departures. In fact, the Duke of Lusk was only present when Girdleston forced him. Typically, she was glad for the void, but it amused her to point out this flagrant rudeness. Then again, she was not here to amuse herself; she was here to set herself free. She beamed an innocent smile.
“The duke has been detained,” Girdleston rushed to explain. “Estate business, I’m afraid. He will join us presently for supper.” The older man narrowed his eyes, speaking to her parents. “But first, allow me to present the duke’s attentive and well-trained staff.”
He snapped his fingers and dozens of yellow-liveried servants scurried to form a presentation line that stretched from the carriages to the house.
Oh for God’s sake, Helena thought, squinting at the endless wall of yellow.
“How delighted we are to have you as our guests,” crowed Girdleston, “and we should like for you to think of our household as your household.” He gestured to the servants as if he had formed them from his own rib.
Helena sighed, looking at the long line of retainers. She made no claim of penury or modest living; she was the daughter of an earl, after all. She’d been waited upon by servants her whole life. Her father’s estate in Somerset was a grand manor house with boys to carry firewood and girls to scrape the ashes. As soon as she’d been old enough, Helena had elected to leave the main house and live with her grandmother, the dowager countess, in her summerhouse elsewhere on the estate. She far preferred the lively cottage tucked within the leafy boughs of Castle Wood to the mansion where her parents and sisters lived. There had been fewer servants there. A cook and housekeeper, a man to mind the livestock. And her grandmother. Oh, how she adored her dear Gran. She’d been the only family member who’d seen Helena’s free spirit, her love of nature, her curiosity and independence.
A fever had taken her some five years ago, and Helena missed her with an ache that never seemed to go away. She’d scarcely been laid to rest when her parents began to entertain the notion of using Castle Wood and their stretch of the River Brue to expedite the neighboring duke’s mining operation. Gran had forbidden the arrangement while she’d been alive, and she’d even bequeathed the wooded section of the earldom—known as Castle Wood—directly to Helena to protect it. But with Gran gone, there was no stopping her father from marrying Helena to Lusk. When the duke was her husband, he could do what he wished with the forest and the river.
“Renovations are never convenient,” Uncle Titus said now to the earl and countess, “but you couldn’t have chosen a better time to rebuild your London townhome. The duke is delighted to host you here. After all, soon Lady Helena will reside here with us permanently.”
Helena recoiled at the thought. She worked to keep her face serene.
“We’ve arranged a tour of the grounds and house tomorrow,” Girdleston went on, leading them up the walk and into the house. “But now let us provide nourishment and give our future bride and groom a chance to reacquaint. I’ve requested a restorative menu. Nothing too rich after such a long journey. Right this way, if you please . . .” He gestured Helena’s mother to precede him through the heavy oak doors.
Helena idled near the carriages, collecting two more of her apples from a crate.
So the duke would attend the meal. Normally she dreaded any scheduled contact with Lusk, but now every shared moment was an opportunity to more effectively matchmake.
Most young women, she knew, would pounce at the opportunity to become a duchess. When it came to foisting him off on some other girl, the title was his most significant draw. But surely Lusk had more to recommend himself than simply the dukedom. Some occupation or passion or quality that he’d been previously too drunk or immature to reveal?
“Helena, dear?” Girdleston called from inside the great hall. He beckoned her with the smooth, spooling gesture of a ghostly majordomo. “You’ll be gratified to know that I’ve set aside a contingent of highly trained servants for your exclusive use, to make certain of your every comfort and safety.”
He’s what? Helena thought, following him up the front walk.
“Come, come,” he pressed, “so I may introduce you to