The Rogue's Wager (Sinful Brides #1)(83)

The duchess scoffed, that attempt at being dismissive ruined by the splotchy color in her cheeks. “You think this is about love? I do not love the duke.” Yes, but Helena would wager at one time the woman had. “I do respect the distinctions of rank and birthright. You and your mother and brother inserted yourselves into my life.” Hatred so strong brightened the crisp green of her eyes, and Helena took a step back. “She gave him a son, when I could not.” The duchess closed that slight gap, taking a step forward. “And I will be damned if I see you take my daughter’s right to rank by whoring yourself with Lord Westfield as you have.” Her Grace flicked Helena’s rumpled, limp cap sleeve. Then with smooth, expert duchess-like grace, the woman turned on her heel and walked away. She paused, and glanced back. “Oh, and Miss Banbury?” Helena stiffened. “I suggest you avoid returning to the ballroom. It would take but a single glance to know you were rutting in the gardens like your whore of a mother.” With that, the duchess left, leaving Helena alone.

As soon as the lady left, Helena let loose a string of curses that would have only confirmed the woman’s every last vile supposition about her.

For who could have ever believed that polite Society had evil greater than the beasts that lurked in the Dials?





Chapter 21


Rule 21


Do not let anyone inside your heart.

With her knees drawn to her chest, Helena sat at the window seat overlooking the London streets. Rain pinged off the crystal windowpane, and trailed a shimmery tear downward. Through the glass, she touched the tip of her index finger to one of those clear beads and followed its path until it converged with another drop and then they faded altogether.

Robert was set to arrive at thirty minutes past one o’clock to speak with the duke, and then their lives would be inextricably connected—forever. Her heart gave a funny leap.

Since she’d climbed abovestairs last evening, bathed, and sought out her bed, she’d lain awake, unable to sleep. This time it hadn’t been the nightmares that kept rest at bay. It had been him. Helena rested her forehead against the cool window.

Since she’d been summoned to Ryker’s office, he and her brothers had all believed Helena would choose the lavish life of polite Society. For more than a month, she’d been filled with a bitter resentment. How dare they see her as different than them? They’d impugned her honor, when they’d long touted that there was nothing more important in the world.

But . . . she was different than them.

Ryker, Calum, Adair, Niall, any member of the Hell and Sin Club family would lay down their lives to save one of their own. That devotion was borne of a bond that went back to the darkest, most dangerous days in the streets when they’d clawed and scraped to survive. Yet, for that familial allegiance, they had each constructed protective walls to keep everyone out—including one another.

They’d not asked questions about their pasts, or shared in their pain. Why, they’d not even readily confessed to being capable of it.

And she’d not truly appreciated the solitariness of that existence—until Robert. He’d slipped inside, when she’d worked so hard to keep the world out. With him, she spoke about the hell of her past, but also the joy she’d known.

That was a life she would have . . . one of love, where you did not fear letting someone in, because love didn’t weaken, it only made you stronger. Ryker and her brothers, shut away inside the Hell and Sin, would never know that.

Mayhap that is why they sent you away . . . ? Mayhap, Ryker saw what you yourself did not . . . That she’d wanted more of life, and she wanted all of it with Robert, but it could never be both.

In entering Robert’s world, she would be leaving behind the only existence she’d truly known. She’d be abandoning Ryker, Calum, Adair, and Niall; and the family they’d carved out for one another. By his rank, Robert could visit the Hell and Sin Club, but those men she called brothers would never, ever leave St Giles to enter a world they so despised.

Their unwillingness to so much as respond to a single one of the many missives she’d sent this past month was evidence that as long as she dwelled amongst the ton, she was dead to them.

She bit her lower lip hard. How was it possible to have your heart filled with equal parts joy and despair? For there would have to be a goodbye. Only it was never the one she’d imagined making.

“Oh, dear, you are sad.”

A soft voice sounded in the doorway. Helena twisted to face her sister. She hovered at the entrance with her arms hugged to her chest, uncertainty stamped in the delicate planes of her face.

“Oh, no. I’m not,” she said softly, swinging her legs around. “I . . .”

Her sister quelled her with an uncharacteristically somber look. “I am not a child, Helena. Just as I’ve come to see how my mother feels about your presence here, I also see the sadness you so often wear.”

Surprise brought her lips apart. Since she’d arrived she’d seen the always-optimistic Diana as an innocent, wholly incapable of seeing the world as it was around her. “I can be hopeful but also know what the world is truly like,” the girl said gently, and pulled the door closed behind her.

“I am so sorry,” Helena said quietly. Having been so judged through the years by her brothers, shame needled around her belly that she should have done the same to this young lady.