Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,30
the cream-colored box he held, approximately the size of a dinner plate, tied with a narrow matching satin ribbon. She realized it was the box containing a selection of stockings from the store. “I’ll take it now,” she said. “Thank you”—she tried to remember what Rhys had called him—“George, isn’t it?”
He smiled at her as he opened the door. “Yes, milady.”
Immediately upon entering the house Helen was beset by the twins, who danced around her in excitement.
She cast one last glance through the glass panes, watching the carriage depart.
“You’re back!” Pandora shouted. “Finally! Whatever took you so long? You’ve been gone for most of the day!”
“It’s almost teatime,” Cassandra chimed in.
Helen smiled, nonplussed by their wildness.
The twins were nineteen, soon to be twenty, but one could be excused for thinking they were younger than their actual age. Raised in an atmosphere largely devoid of authority, they had run free on a country estate with few diversions other than those they created for themselves. Their parents had spent much of their time in London society, leaving their daughters in the care of servants, governesses, and tutors. None of them had been able or willing to take a firm hand with them.
To be certain, Pandora and Cassandra were high-spirited but also affectionate, intelligent, and endearing. And they were as beautiful as a pair of pagan goddesses, both of them long-limbed and glowing with health. Pandora was perpetually disheveled and full of energy, her dark hair falling from its pins as if she’d just been running through the woods. Cassandra, the golden-haired twin, was more compliant and romantic in nature, more willing to abide by rules.
“What happened?” Cassandra demanded. “What did Mr. Winterborne say?”
Helen set aside the cream-colored box. After tugging off a black glove, she held out her left hand.
The twins crowded close, wide-eyed with wonder.
The moonstone seemed illuminated, glowing with shimmers of green, blue, and silver.
“A new ring,” Pandora said.
“A new engagement,” Helen told her.
“But the same fiancé,” Cassandra said with a questioning lilt.
Helen laughed. “One can’t simply go shopping for one of those. Yes, it’s the same fiancé.”
That set off a fresh burst of enthusiasm, both girls whooping and jumping without restraint.
Perceiving there was no use in trying to curb them, Helen stood back. Noticing movement at the doorway, she turned to find the housekeeper waiting at the threshold.
Mrs. Abbott tilted her head and regarded her expectantly, asking a silent question.
Helen beamed and nodded.
The housekeeper sighed with what appeared to be an equal measure of relief and worry. “May I take your things, Lady Helen?”
After giving her hat and gloves, Helen said quietly, “You and the other servants must not worry, even for a moment, about the consequences of my outing. I will take full responsibility. All I ask is that the staff refrain from saying anything to Lord or Lady Trenear when they arrive tomorrow.”
“They will hold their tongues and go about their work as usual.”
“Thank you.” Impulsively Helen touched the older woman’s shoulder, patting it softly. “I’ve never been so happy.”
“There’s no one who deserves happiness more,” Mrs. Abbott said gently. “I hope Mr. Winterborne will be half so deserving of you.”
The housekeeper departed through the main library room, while Helen went back to her sisters. They had settled onto a leather-upholstered settee, staring at her eagerly.
“Tell us everything,” Cassandra urged. “Was Mr. Winterborne upset when you approached him? Angry?”
“Was he confuming?” Pandora, who liked to invent words, asked.
Helen laughed. “As a matter of fact, he was terribly confuming. But after I convinced him that I sincerely wished to be his wife, he seemed much happier.”
“Did he kiss you?” Cassandra asked eagerly. “On the lips?”
Helen hesitated before replying, and both twins squealed, one from excitement and the other from aversion.
“Oh lucky, lucky Helen,” Cassandra exclaimed.
“I don’t think she’s lucky at all,” Pandora said frankly. “Fancy putting your mouth on someone else’s—what if his breath is nasty or there’s a wad of dipping snuff in his cheek? What if there are crumbs in his beard?”
“Mr. Winterborne has no beard,” Cassandra said. “And he doesn’t dip snuff.”
“Still, mouth kisses are revolting.”
Cassandra looked at Helen with great concern. “Was it revolting, Helen?”
“No,” she said, turning scarlet. “Not at all.”
“What was it like?”
“He held my cheeks in his hands,” Helen said, remembering the touch of Rhys’s strong, gentle fingers, and the way he’d murmured You belong to me, cariad . . . “His mouth was warm and soft,” she continued dreamily, “and his breath was cool with peppermint. It was a lovely