The Davenports(75)

“This is too much.” Amy-Rose folded the papers up and held them out to John. He gently pushed her hand back. She shook her head. “I can’t accept it.”

John’s dimple appeared. “You can, Amy-Rose. All it needs is your signature.”

Amy-Rose blinked her vision clear and reread the documents. Her dream was in her hand. And John had given it to her. A giggle escaped her lips. She could hardly keep up with the surge and swirl of emotions. She was overwhelmed. Overjoyed. In John’s eyes, she saw her reason to stay. Amy-Rose kissed him, and let all the heartache melt away.





CHAPTER 33


    Helen



The crisp white napkins formed a bridge over the saucer and plate, framed by meticulously polished silverware. The mahogany table beneath the embroidered tablecloth was set for six guests and five courses. Helen had polished the silverware herself. Arranged the flower centerpiece and planned the menu.

I did this.

Helen stared at the hours of hard work she’d put into meeting Mrs. Milford’s exact standards. She’d prepared tonight’s evening down to the minutest detail.

Penance, she thought, for lusting after her sister’s suitor.

But really this table, this night, was for her parents. And it was far from the last hoop she would need to jump through to earn back their confidence. They worried about her the way they used to worry about Olivia, as if being unmarried, despite doing something she loved, was the worst of all possible futures for her.

Helen only hoped she could convince them just enough to allow her to return to afternoons free of her etiquette lessons. She’d grown tired of adjusting the progress the other mechanics made on the automobile at odds hours of the day and night. It frustrated her that she wasn’t allowed to work where she pleased, doing something that actually interested her. The surface of the sideboard rattled under her fist.

“Has the table offended you?”

Helen jumped.

Jacob Lawrence stood in the doorway. He was beautiful. So beautiful it made her breath catch. They drank each other in under the dim lighting. She didn’t understand why he had this effect on her. She steadied her thoughts. “Offend me? No. The idea that this is how I’m expected to spend my time offends me.”

Mr. Lawrence reviewed her work. He removed his hands from his pockets and crossed his arms. Helen tried not to notice the way the fabric of his jacket rippled with the motion, and the way his mouth puckered in thought. Each breath she took to steady herself filled her head with the scent of his aftershave, which left her feeling lighter than the sips of sherry she sometimes snuck at dinner.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I quite like it.”

“I don’t intend to make it a habit,” she said.

“Maybe just a backup plan?” he offered. She scowled at him, and he smiled. “Only teasing.” He placed a hand on her elbow and they walked out of the room, a few feet away from the dining room entrance. He shielded her from her family as the group made their way from the sitting room to the table. Mrs. Davenport’s exclamations of surprise only served to annoy Helen more. How could this be more important than learning the family business?

“It wasn’t at all amusing,” Helen said to him. She rolled her shoulders. Her elbow escaped his touch and left her chilled. “Where are we going? We should head back in.”

“Helen, wait.” Mr. Lawrence looked at her with one of his rare expressions of doubt. “I’m not sure how much longer I can pretend that there isn’t something happening between us.” He brushed down the neatly trimmed hairs of his mustache.

Helen found herself thinking about his lips. She quickly shook her head. “Jacob, you said yourself, you gave Olivia your word. And she is my sister.”

“And not the woman I want to be with,” he countered. “I want to be with you.”

Helen’s ears rang with his confession. Her mouth dried, all her words lost in the whirl of her feelings, too great and awful for her to contain. She licked her lips before answering, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have feelings for you too.” She watched as his face brightened; the sheer joy of it broke her heart. “But even though we aren’t as close anymore, I won’t do this to Olivia.” She watched silently as her words sank in. The pain was worse than what she felt moments ago. At least she could spare her sister feeling this too. Olivia would have the chance to live out her life the way she’d dreamed, with a devoted husband at her side. If that’s what her sister wanted. Helen couldn’t tell anymore. One moment Olivia was skulking around at night, keeping mysterious company, the next she was promising Helen she’d be the first to know when her engagement to Mr. Lawrence was official.

Helen forced herself to ignore his whispered protests. There was nothing either one of them could do. Well, there was something Mr. Lawrence could do—he could break his attachment to her sister. Perhaps call it a mutual uncoupling to minimize the damage Helen feared they could not avoid. Of course, she wanted happiness for Mr. Lawrence too. Olivia could make him happy.

She lifted her hand, her fingers not quite touching his arm. “I won’t destroy her chance at happiness. Please, if you care about me, do this. Remember Olivia. Forget about me,” she said, her voice steady.

“I could never.”

His words felt like a challenge, the first Helen had no desire to meet head-on.