Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(94)

For now, however, she wanted to go to her room and freshen up after the journey.

As Devon accompanied her to the second floor, Kathleen became aware of strange ethereal music floating through the air. The delicate notes didn’t come from a piano. “What is that sound?” she asked.

Devon shook his head, looking perplexed.

They entered the drawing room, where Helen, Cassandra and Pandora had gathered around a small rectangular table. The twins’ faces glowed with excitement, while Helen’s was blank.

“Kathleen,” Pandora exclaimed, “it’s the most beautiful, clever thing you’ve ever seen!”

She saw a music box that was at least three feet long and a foot tall. The shining rosewood box, decorated with gold and lacquer inlay, rested upon its own matching table.

“Let’s try another,” Cassandra urged, opening a drawer in the front of the table.

Helen reached into the box to withdraw a brass cylinder, its surface bristling with hundreds of tiny pins. Several more cylinders lay in a gleaming row in the drawer.

“You see?” Pandora said to Kathleen excitedly. “Each cylinder plays a different piece of music. You can choose what you want to hear.”

Kathleen shook her head, marveling silently.

Helen placed a new cylinder in the box and flipped a brass lever. The brisk, jaunty melody of the William Tell Overture poured out, making the twins laugh.

“Swiss-made,” Devon remarked, staring at a plaque on the interior of the lid. “The cylinders are all opera overtures. Il Bacio, Zampa…”

“But where did it come from?” Kathleen asked.

“It seems to have been delivered today,” Helen said, her voice oddly subdued. “For me. From… Mr. Winterborne.”

Silence descended on the group.

Picking up a folded note, Helen gave it to Devon. Although her face was composed, bewilderment shone in her eyes. “He —” she began uncomfortably, “That is, Mr. Winterborne – seems to think —”

Devon met her gaze directly. “I’ve given him leave to court you,” he said bluntly. “Only if you desire it. If you do not —”

“What?” Kathleen burst out, fury pumping through her. Why hadn’t Devon mentioned anything about it to her? He must have known that she would object.

As a matter of fact, she objected with every bone in her body. Winterborne wasn’t right for Helen in any regard. Anyone could see that. Marrying him would require her to fit into a life that was completely foreign to her.

The William Tell Overture floated around the room with ghastly cheerfulness.

“Absolutely not,” Kathleen snapped at Devon. “Tell him you’ve changed your mind.”

“It’s up to Helen to decide what she wants,” he said calmly. “Not you.” With that obdurate set of his jaw, he looked exactly like the arrogant ass he had been the first time they’d met.

“What has Winterborne promised you?” she demanded. “What does the estate stand to gain if he marries Helen?”

His eyes were hard. “We’ll discuss it in private. There’s a study on the main floor.”

As Helen moved to join them, Kathleen stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Darling,” she said urgently, “please let me speak to Lord Trenear first. There are private things I must ask him. You and I will talk afterward. Please.”

Helen contemplated her without blinking, her singular eyes pale and light-tricked. When she spoke, her voice was temperate and level. “Before anything is discussed, I want to make something clear. I trust and love you as my own sister, dearest Kathleen, and I know you feel the same about me. But I believe I view my own situation more pragmatically than you do.” Her gaze lifted to Devon’s face as she continued. “If Mr. Winterborne does intend to offer for me… it’s not something I could dismiss lightly.”

Not trusting herself to reply, Kathleen swallowed back her outrage. She considered attempting a smile, but her face was too stiff. She settled for patting Helen’s arm.

Turning on her heel, she left the drawing room, while Devon followed.

Chapter 29

It was West’s misfortune to have gone to the study at the same time that Kathleen and Devon went there to do battle.

“What’s happening?” West asked, glancing from one set face to the other.

“Helen and Winterborne,” Devon said succinctly.

Glancing at Kathleen’s accusing face, West winced and tugged at his necktie. “There’s no need for me to take part in the discussion, is there?”

“Did you know about the courtship?” Kathleen demanded.

“Might have,” he muttered.

“Then yes, you will stay and explain why you didn’t talk him out of this appalling idea.”

West looked indignant. “When have I ever been able to talk either of you out of anything?”

Kathleen turned to glare at Devon. “If you truly intend to do this to Helen, then you’re as cold-hearted as I first thought you were.”

“Do what? Help to secure a match that will give her wealth, status in society, and a family of her own?”

“Status in his society, not ours. You know quite well that the peerage will say she’s lowered herself.”

“Most of the people who will say that are the same ones who would refuse to touch her with a barge pole if she decided to take part in the season.” Devon went to the fireplace and braced his hands on the marble mantel. Firelight played over his face and dark hair. “I’m aware that this isn’t an ideal match for Helen. But Winterborne isn’t as objectionable as you’ve made him out to be. Helen may even come to love him in time.”