Lady Helen and the Dark Days Pact by Alison Goodman

Author:Alison Goodman [Goodman, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins Australia
Published: 2016-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

It was not a happy return to the German Place drawing room. Although Helen explained that she had seen Philip again, that the Deceiver had actually tipped his hat to her in some kind of sly taunt, Lady Margaret was not diverted from her wrath. Apparently she’d had her own plan to meet a trusted informer at the promenade, which had been ruined by Helen’s bad judgment and reckless behaviour. Not only that: Helen had drawn attention to herself in exactly the way that his lordship had ordered them to avoid.

Delia attempted a staunch defence, arguing that surely the retrieval of the Colligat was of the utmost importance, but in the end Lady Margaret’s accusations were more or less true. Helen waited out the harangue, then escaped to her bedchamber with the packet of letters still crumpled in her hand.

The worst of it, she thought, as she carried her night candle to the writing desk, was the Duke’s involvement. He was now convinced something was amiss, and she knew he would not give up until he discovered the truth. All her attempts to keep him safe had just placed him in more danger — from Lord Carlston, and possibly now the Deceiver world. On top of that, she had accidentally injured him.

She bowed her head. Dear God, please let his arm be only bruised and not broken.

The sound of footsteps in the next room lifted her head.

‘Do you need anything, my lady?’ Darby asked from the dressing room doorway, her voice soft with sympathy. Bad news travelled very fast in the house. ‘Did you wish to undress for bed now?’

Helen shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

Darby curtseyed and withdrew.

Helen took a seat at the desk and picked up the packet from Andrew. She drew a fortifying breath and worked her thumbnail under the wax seal, breaking it with a snap. Two letters were folded within: a thin missive with her name across the front in her brother’s slanted scrawl, and a fatter packet in her aunt’s neat hand.

The angriest first. She broke the seal on her brother’s letter and unfolded it. One paragraph, and another paper tucked inside. She slid the enclosure onto the desk and angled the letter to the candlelight.

The Albany, Sunday, 12th July, 1812

Dear Helen,

I have taken Selburn’s advice and will not visit you in Brighton. I urge you, however, to note his careful protection of your well-being and to reconsider your decision regarding his proposal. He is still keen — God knows why after your treatment of him — and he has my and, more importantly, Uncle’s blessing. Frankly, Sprite, you are a fool if you do not take him. Enclosed is a draft on my bank account until September. Aunt has writ too, against Uncle’s wishes, so don’t write back. He’ll just burn it and she’ll have the devil to pay.

Your brother,

Andrew

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