The Secret Wallflower Society - Jillian Eaton Page 0,52
weeks ago.”
Percy smiled. “I’m a quick learner and I’ve always enjoyed little games like these. My sister and I used to make up our own when we were little. Our favorite was one we called Snap the Dragon.”
“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Helena said casually as she drew her next card. She peeked at her friend over the top of it. Percy had been reluctant to discuss her family and Helena hadn’t pushed her; she knew from personal experience Percy would speak when she was ready.
And now, it seemed, she was.
“Had a sister,” Percy corrected softly. She looked down at the table, then up at Helena. Her eyes, so blue they often appeared violet in the right light, glistened with tears. “Annabeth died four years ago. She took ill with fever, and there was nothing the doctor could do. I…I miss her terribly.”
“I cannot imagine what I would do if something happened to my sister.” Even the mere thought of losing Dahlia wrenched Helena’s stomach. Her sibling and two nieces were the only blood family she had left, excluding her parents. But then they’d been dead to her from the moment they sold her to Cambridge. “I’m very sorry, Percy. You’ve had to endure so much pain in such a short amount of time. It isn’t fair.”
Percy’s lips twisted. “Life is not fair.”
No, it wasn’t.
But then, such was a woman’s lot in a world designed to favor men.
They resumed their game, pausing only to enjoy tea and raspberry shortcakes. The conversation lightened as it shifted to weather and fashion, before ultimately circling back around to the wedding.
“Calliope looked so happy, didn’t she?” Percy said, sighing a little bit as she carefully shuffled the deck in preparation for another round. “Leo seems like he will be a wonderful husband.”
“The best,” Helena agreed.
Percy began to distribute the cards, then hesitated, her hand hovering in midair. “Do you think…never mind.” Biting her lip, she laid a card down in front of Helena, who picked it up without bothering to look at it.
“Do I think what?” she asked.
“Do you think…do you think there are other men, like Leo?”
“If you’re asking if he has a brother, I am afraid the answer is no.” Helena’s mouth curved in a conspiratorial grin. “I already checked.”
Percy giggled. “No, that’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Sobering, Helena laid her hands flat upon the table and stared hard at a tiny nick in the wood before raising her gaze. “Leo is a true gentleman, and true gentlemen are in alarmingly short supply. Not to say they aren’t out there. Somewhere. But…”
“They’re difficult to find,” the duchess surmised.
“Exceedingly so. Which is why I’ve washed my hands of the whole lot. I find being a widow vastly preferable to being a wife, and it’s not a title I’m keen on relinquishing.”
“You mean you’re never going to marry again?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“But…but what about love?”
Helena barely managed not to snort. “Love is all well and good, and I’m happy Calliope has found it. But love isn’t for everyone, and it’s certainly not for me. Oh, don’t look so downtrodden, darling,” she exclaimed when Percy’s face fell. “My decision doesn’t have to be your decision. If there’s anyone who deserves to ride off into the sunset on a white horse, it’s you.”
“I would like to fall in love,” Percy confessed. “I thought I had, with Glastonbury. And he with me. Maybe if I’d behaved differently–”
“You did nothing wrong.” Helena might not have all the answers when it came to love, but of this, she was absolutely convinced. Reaching across the table, she took her friend’s small, pale hand and squeezed it tightly. “Look at me. Look,” she insisted when Percy’s gaze started to fall into her lap.
Reluctantly, the duchess lifted her chin.
“There,” Helena said firmly. “That’s better. You’re not to lower your head for any man ever again. Is that understood?”
“But–”
“No. There are no buts, or exceptions, or excuses. And there was nothing you did, or did not do, to earn your husband’s cruelty. He is a weak man, Percy. And weak men will always try to disguise their shortcomings by hurting those they perceive as weaker than themselves.”
“I hate him,” Percy whispered. “Sometimes I can’t breathe for all the hate. And I know, up here” – she tapped the side of her skull – “what you’re saying is true. But it’s my heart I still need to convince.”
“Awful things, hearts.” Helena pursed her lips. “Quite useless, really.”