Tempting the Bride - By Sherry Thomas Page 0,88

the grounds of the law school. The bare trees shivered in the wind. The lawns were invisible beneath the previous day’s blanket of snow. The main lecture hall, rotund and Romanesque, had probably been a revolt against the rest of the university’s severely rectangular architectural uniformity.

A group of students coming toward them slowed to a halt, gaping at Venetia. She nodded absently in their direction.

“So you plan to attend the lecture?” asked Helena, looking over the flyer. “It’s more than a week away.”

“True, but he has been impossible to meet at home. Do you know, I hear he has his own private natural history museum at Algernon House? I should be like a cat in cream, were I the mistress of that manor.”

Helena frowned slightly. “I’ve never heard you mention a particular interest in him.”

Because she had none. But what kind of a sister would she be if she didn’t make sure that the most eligible—and possibly the most suitable—bachelor in all of England was introduced to Helena? “Well, he is a good prospect. It would be a shame to not meet him when I can. And while we wait for him, we can begin our sightseeing. There are some lovely islands off Cape Cod, I hear. Connecticut is said to be very pretty, and Montreal is just a quick rail journey away.”

“How exciting,” seconded Millie.

“A little rest and relaxation before the Season begins in earnest,” said Venetia.

Helena pressed her lips together. “The duke had better be worth the trouble.”

“A man rich in both pound sterling and fossils?” Venetia pretended to fan herself. “He shall be worth every trouble. You’ll see.”

I have a letter from Fitz,” said Millie.

Helena was in the bath, and Venetia and Millie were alone in the parlor of the cottage they’d leased for their time at Radcliffe College.

Venetia moved closer to Millie and lowered her voice. “What does he say?”

In January Helena had gone to Huntington, Lord Wrenworth’s country seat, chaperoned by her friend Mrs. Denbigh. Fitz’s best friend, Viscount Hastings, had also been in attendance. Hastings left the house party early and called on Fitz and Millie at their seat, where Venetia also happened to be visiting. He told them that while at Huntington, for three consecutive nights he’d seen Helena walking back to her room at four o’clock in the morning.

Venetia had immediately set out for Huntington, showing up brimming with smiling apologies for missing her sister too much. There were still rooms at Huntington, but she’d insisted on sharing one with Helena and made sure never to let Helena out of her sight.

Then they’d squirreled Helena out of the country as quickly as they could, and left Fitz to ascertain the identity of Helena’s partner in sin.

“Including Huntington, she’d attended four house parties since the end of the Season—five, if you count the one at Henley Park that Fitz and I hosted. Hastings was at four of them—but he is obviously not our suspect. Lady Avery and Lady Somersby were at four of them, including the one at Huntington.”

Venetia shook her head. “I can’t believe she’d carry on with those gossips under the same roof.”

Millie went down the list. “The Rowleys were at three of the parties. So were the Jack Dormers.”

But Mr. Rowley was fifty-five. And the Jack Dormers were newlyweds devoted to each other. Venetia drew a deep breath. “What about the Andrew Martins?”

A number of years ago, Helena had developed a tendresse for Mr. Martin. All evidence pointed to her sentiments being fervently reciprocated. But in time Mr. Martin had proposed to and married a young lady who had been intended for him since birth.

Millie smoothed the folds of Fitz’s letter, her eyes worried. “Come to think of it, I have not seen the Andrew Martins together in a while. Mr. Martin came by himself to three parties. And at each house, he requested an out-of-the-way room, citing his need for peace and quiet in order to work on his next book.”

All the more convenient for conducting an illicit affair. “Does Fitz suspect anyone else?” Venetia asked without much hope.

“Not among those at Huntington.”

If Helena’s lover was indeed Mr. Martin, this would not end well. Were they to be discovered, the Fitzhugh family wouldn’t even be able to pressure him to do the honorable thing by Helena—for Mr. Martin remained very much married, his wife as robust as a vintage claret.

Venetia rubbed her temples. “What does Fitz think we should do?”

“Fitz is going to exercise restraint—for now. He is worried