“I’ve been very busy.” Defensively, Helena stood and walked around to the other side of Percy’s easel. In swirling watercolor was a lovely pond surrounded by cattails. Two swans, their long necks elegantly curved, swam through the water side by side. “This is beautiful.”
Percy blushed. “Do you really think so?”
“You’ve a rare talent.” Absently swirling a paintbrush in a cup of water, Helena crossed the solarium to the long row of windows overlooking the front lawn. It was nearly noon, and the sun had climbed as high as it possibly could into the cloudless blue sky. There was just enough of a breeze in the air to ruffle the leaves, and if she were to step back outside, she could have done so without a shawl. It was a perfect day. Or it would have been perfect, if not for all of the conflicting emotions ramming about inside of her like logs at the top of a dam.
Percy was right. She was overthinking. But how could she not? Stephen’s reappearance had changed everything she thought she knew. About him. About herself. About the past…and the future.
If he didn’t want an affair, then what did he want? And why had she been so quick to settle for a moment of passion when she should have held herself to a far higher regard? She was no one’s mistress, let alone Stephen’s. But she was lonely. So achingly lonely. And when his touch had started to fill that empty void inside of her, she’d been ready to jump through fire to have more of it.
Or into a carriage.
Far more convenient, much less smoke damage.
“Would you care to go for a walk?” she asked Percy. “I need the fresh air to help clear my head.”
“I’d love to,” Percy replied without hesitation.
Arm in arm, the two friends strolled out of the room.
Chapter Ten
Helena barely slept at all that night. No matter which way she tossed or turned, she couldn’t stop herself from having the same dream over and over again.
In it, she was running, although she didn’t know from what or to where. Her hair was loose, and it kept getting in her eyes as she raced along a narrow path in the middle of a busy market square. She burst into a tent filled with ribbons and bonnets. The shopkeeper smiled at her and spread his arms apart.
“Pick whichever one you want,” he said.
Confused, Helena spun in a circle. “I can just…pick one?”
“Yes, but be careful. You’ll have to wear it for the rest of your life.”
“But I don’t want to wear just one hat for the rest of my life.”
A wide shadow fell across the floor of the tent, and Cambridge, his fleshy lips turned up in a sneer, came inside and grabbed her wrist. “Foolish girl. It doesn’t matter what you want. Your only job is to look pretty.”
“No!” Helena cried as she tried to yank free of his grip. “You – you’re dead.”
“And whose fault is that?” Cambridge asked.
“Yes, lamb.” Now Stephen entered the tent, and it seemed to shrink in size until there was barely enough room for the three of them. “Whose fault is that?”
On a loud gasp, Helena shot up in bed as if she’d been thrown from a catapult. Her heart pounded her chest and a thin sheen of dewy perspiration clung to her temple. Dragging an arm across her forehead, she kicked the blankets off her legs and slid shakily off the mattress.
A squinting glance out the window confirmed it was barely dawn, the sun a shimmering ball of orange slowly rising in a sky dashed through with yellow and blue. Even the birds were still sleeping, and for a moment Helena considered trying to do the same. Then she remembered her dream, and with a shudder, she drew a silk wrapper over her nightdress and stole quietly downstairs.
She was greeted by a scullery maid, who dashed away to the kitchen to prepare hot tea and a plate of fresh fruit.
“Thank you,” Helena murmured when the maid returned with a small serving platter. “Would you mind taking this outside? I’d like to have breakfast in the rose garden.”
“Of course, my lady. Right away.” With a bob and a curtsy, the maid carried the breakfast down a hallway filled with portraits of the Winchester family. Helena followed after, pausing now and again to observe a painting. When she got to the very last one, she stopped