style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Thank you.’ Helene glanced at her reflection once more. ‘It is not as stylish as your gown, or those we have ordered, I dare say—but I do not think I shall disgrace Amelia this evening.’
‘I am very certain you will not,’ Emily said and laughed softly. ‘You look everything you ought, Helene. I was sent to see if you were ready—shall we go down?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Helene said. ‘I am a little nervous about this evening. It is my first outing into London society and I am not sure what to expect.’
‘That is why Amelia chose carefully for you,’ Emily said. ‘I am sure everyone will approve of you, Helene, for your manners are good and you think before you speak—and I think you will like Lady Marsh, who is your hostess this evening, for she is very kind. She is Lord Coleridge’s great-aunt on his father’s side. She has been kind to me even though I am just a companion.’
‘You are a lady, anyone can see that,’ Helene said. ‘Being a companion does not make you any the less respectable, Emily.’
Emily laughed. ‘That is not always the opinion of everyone, Helene—but I am very fortunate to have Amelia as my employer. She is respected everywhere. Because of her kindness I have been accepted by most—and you will be, too, Helene.’
‘Thank you, I feel a little better now. Shall we go?’
Helene’s nerves returned when they alighted from the carriage and walked along the carpet that had been laid on the ground outside the large house to protect the ladies from getting their gowns soiled. Lanterns were being held for them by linkboys, and the carriage had been obliged to queue when they first arrived—and this was supposed to be a modest affair! Helene was glad of Emily’s company as they walked into the house together. They were greeted first by their hostess. Lady Marsh was a small plump lady of perhaps sixty years, dressed in a purple gown and a gold turban, and she kept them talking for a moment before allowing them to pass on to the reception rooms.
The first elegant salon was half-empty, a mere half a dozen couples standing around, talking and greeting each other. Amelia smiled and greeted two ladies, who lifted their hands in welcome as they entered. She introduced Mrs Henderson and Helene.
‘Lady Renton, Lady Jamieson,’ she said, ‘may I make you known to some good friends who have come to stay with me for a while—Mrs Henderson, and Miss Helene Henderson…and, of course, you know my dearest Emily.’
Helene felt herself being scrutinised. She dipped a respectful curtsy, wondering if she were being approved. Lady Renton seemed a little aloof in her manner, as if reserving judgement, though Lady Jamieson was friendly enough. Helene was relieved as they passed on to the next group of two ladies and a gentleman.
‘Miss Royston, I am pleased to see you here,’ the gentleman said and then looked at Helene, one eyebrow raised in expectation.
‘Mr Bradwell,’ Amelia said. ‘Mrs Bradwell, Miss Bradwell…may I present my friends—Mrs Henderson and Miss Helene Henderson…Mr Nicholas Bradwell and his mama and sister.’
‘Charming, quite charming,’ Nicholas Bradwell said and inclined his head. ‘I am happy to make your acquaintance, ma’am—Miss Henderson.’ His eyes had fixed on Helene’s face. ‘Tell me, do you enjoy music, Miss Henderson?’
‘Yes, sir, I like it very well.’
‘And do you play an instrument yourself perhaps?’
‘Yes, sir. I play the pianoforte, though I cannot profess to be accomplished.’
‘Helene, you are too modest,’ Mrs Henderson said and gave her a reproving look. ‘My daughter plays very well, sir. I have heard her spoken of as talented, but she does not like to say so herself.’
‘A truly modest young lady.’ Nicholas Bradwell looked at her and nodded. He was a gentleman of perhaps forty years or so. Of medium height and slim build, he was dressed fashionably, his hair cut short and brushed back from his forehead, the wings sprinkled with grey. ‘Perhaps you would let me take you in, Miss Henderson? I shall make you known to your fellow guests.’
Helene glanced at her mother, who nodded her consent. Feeling her stomach tighten with nerves, Helene laid her hand on his arm and allowed him to draw her into the next reception room. Here it was more crowded, and most of the chairs and sofas were occupied. Helene saw that it was here that the musical entertainment would be given a little later.
‘Shall we reserve that sofa?’ Nicholas Bradwell asked, gesturing towards one that was still unoccupied. ‘I shall sit with you and give up my seat when your mama comes.’
‘If you wish, sir,’ Helene said and glanced round, feeling uncomfortable. He had promised to introduce her, but now seemed bent on reserving her company to himself. She did not mind it for he was not unattractive and she felt at home with him. He reminded her of her uncle’s friends, gentlemen who had treated her kindly in the past. ‘Though if older ladies are standing, I should perhaps give up my seat.’
‘I dare say some of the gentlemen will repair to the card room when the music begins,’ Nicholas Bradwell told her with a smile. ‘I myself came for the music. We have a fine tenor to entertain us this evening. He is Italian, you know, and I think his voice one of the best I have heard. However, many of the younger gentlemen will no doubt find their way to the tables before long. Some of them have no ear.’
‘Oh…’ Helene was not sure what to say. Her cheeks had heated slightly because she had noticed two gentlemen enter the salon together—and one of them was Lord Coleridge. ‘I thought everyone would wish to hear Signor Manzini…’ She drew her breath in as she saw that Lord Coleridge was walking towards them. She looked down at her lap, her hands clasped as he bowed before them.
‘Miss Henderson, I am delighted to see you this evening. Bradwell—good to see you here, sir. I heard that you had been unwell.’
Helene sensed the tension in the gentleman beside her. She had a feeling that he resented the interruption and risked a glance at him. A tiny pulse was beating at his temple.
‘It was a mere chill,’ Nicholas Bradwell replied. ‘I may call on you in a day or so to settle the little matter between us.’
‘Whenever you wish, there is no need for haste, sir,’ Max said and smiled at Helene. ‘I hope you suffered no ill effects of your experience the other day, Miss Henderson. I have to tell you that Jemmy is doing very well with his charge, though we have not as yet found Jezra a new home.’
‘Jezra?’ Helene’s gaze flew to his face. She saw the laughter lurking in his eyes. ‘You have given that poor creature a name? Do you expect him to recover? I know that you were uncertain of it.’
‘I believe Jezra is tougher than we all imagined,’ Max told her. ‘He is gaining weight and I am reliably informed that with the proper treatment his appearance will improve—though whether my credit will survive his arrival I do not know.’
‘Yes, I did hear that you had a donkey in your stable,’ Nicholas Bradwell said, a smirk on his lips. ‘Not quite in your style, Coleridge?’
‘Oh, the creature grows on one, you know,’ Max replied carelessly. ‘I dare say it might do to pull the children of my head groom in a cart, in the country, you know—once it has recovered its strength, of course.’
‘A
