The Wallflower's Wicked Wager (The Wallflower Wins Book 2) Page 15

  Helena smiled at her aunt.

  She had not told her aunt or uncle the entire truth. Helena did not see the point of it, and she and Gideon had agreed that all the facts were not entirely necessary.

  No, they would allow them the pleasure of knowing that she had married well, and that was enough.

  In the din of the opera house, she took her aunt’s hand. “I’m so very glad you are pleased.”

  “How could I not be?” Her aunt proclaimed as she smoothed a hand down her blue silk gown. “We have been worried about what we were going to do with you. Young ladies do struggle when they become older spinsters. We hated the idea of leaving you all alone when we shuffled off our mortal coil, dear girl.”

  It was tempting to give her aunt a hug, but she knew her aunt did not enjoy them, and so she merely squeezed her hand.

  “Well,” Helena assured, “now you needn’t worry. I have an entire family to look after me.”

  Her aunt nodded, her curls bouncing with her relief. “Do you think we should take our seats for the opera? I cannot believe that your husband has a box of his own. Such an extravagance!”

  “Yes,” Helena agreed. “It is fortuitous, isn’t it?”

  It had been a surprise to her to realize that Gideon had a box in the Royal Opera House. She would have thought that a Scot, and someone who disliked going south, as he put it, would not have invested in one, but he did.

  “I like to support the arts,” he had said, “and it doesn’t matter if they’re English or not.”

  Helena had admired him for that statement even more than she had before.

  She and her aunt followed the crowd up the wide, gilded stairs.

  The ringing of bells suggested that the opera would begin soon. They did indeed need to take their places.

  As they were heading towards her box, weaving through the beautifully dressed and elaborately coifed ton, she heard a whisper of conversation.

  Her husband was not far behind, she knew. Gideon had stopped to speak to someone.

  Helena had quickly realized on their trip to London that going places with Gideon was an interesting affair.

  Wherever he went, there were whispers.

  And tonight was no different.

  She could tell that Gideon was approaching by the change of tone of conversation around her.

  Several ladies began to murmur excitedly.

  Fans were waved rapidly, and all Helena could do was smile because Gideon was hers, of that there was no question.

  And much to Gideon’s credit, he was apparently so used to the attention of ladies, and even some gentlemen, it seemed, that he gave it no notice.

  The poor man, she thought. He couldn’t go anywhere without being stared at. At this particular moment, she smiled to herself.

  Gideon had chosen her, and that was all that mattered. They belonged to each other. She didn’t value him for his looks. They were quite nice of course, but she could see what he meant before. Everyone simply was drawn by the way he looked, and they seemed to care about little else.

  She wondered how that had affected him over the years. She thought back to his mother’s comments about how he did not let people in, and she could see why.

  If people only cared about how one looked, how could one ever share themselves with others?

  Her aunt slipped into their box. Just as she was about to follow, she heard a cutting voice.

  “My goodness, how could he have married her?” a young lady hissed.

  “I don’t know, my dear. It’s an absolute scandal,” another voice quietly proclaimed.

  “He must have ruined her,” the first young lady drawled. “It’s the only reason why.”

  “Helena Highbury?” The other girl sneered. “Plain as plain can be. Might as well marry a doorpost, don’t you know.”

  Helena stopped. She could scarce draw breath. The cruel comments of the ladies not far away from her were said in a way that she could hear them.

  As she caught the eyes of the two speakers, it was undeniable. They’d meant for her to hear. Those words should have cut her like knives but, strangely, they didn’t.

  Perhaps a few months ago they would have. They would have cut her to the quick and she would have slunk away.

  Tonight, she looked at the blonde-haired young woman and her raven-haired friend, both of them standing by the gilt-painted wall in their perfect pale frocks and she stood up to them.

  “Did you say something?” Helena demanded forcefully.

  The blonde young woman gaped. “I beg your pardon?”

  Helena arched a brow. “I could have sworn I heard you discussing me. Helena Highbury. Isn’t that correct?”

  “Why no,” the raven-haired girl rushed, her cheeks pink. “You misheard us.”

  Both seemed stunned that she was daring to confront them.

  “Good, because I’m not Helena Highbury now, am I?” she asked with a cheerful smile. “I’m Lady MacAlister.”

  “You’re both very beautiful,” Helena stated, making it a fact but not a compliment.

  Both of the young ladies blinked at her.

  They clearly had no idea how to reply until the blonde girl bobbed a quick curtsy and said, “Our mother is waiting for us.”

  Her voice was shaking slightly, as if she expected Helena to pounce at any moment. It was quite the reversal.

  In the past, it would have been Helena who was shaking.

  These two beautiful girls holding court over her? Not anymore.

  “My darling,” Gideon called as he approached her. “Are you ready to go in?”

  Gideon stood so close to her that her skirts brushed his leg. She felt the undeniable way he gazed down at her. Both of the young ladies all but tittered in amazement at his nearness.

  They both bobbed curtsies.

  He looked at them, then at Helena. “I don’t think we need to spend any more time here, do you?”

  Helena shook her head. “Not at all.”

  As Gideon escorted her away, he whispered, “Did they say something unkind?”

  “You’re very astute,” she replied, proud of herself and glad to have a husband such as hers.

  “It doesn’t take much to guess,” he drawled. “I’ve seen those types before. One can almost sense them.”

  She frowned. “They seem to think that it was mad that you married me.”

  “Well, we’ve already agreed that I’m a bit mad,” he reminded with a playful grin.

  She laughed. “How true. I suppose I shall have to put up with comments like that for the rest of my life. A few weeks ago, that conversation would have bothered me greatly.”

  “And now?” he prompted.

  “Not in the slightest,” she affirmed, taking his arm. “Why would it bother me? I know that you love me.”

  He gaped at her. “You know that I love you?”

  “Indeed,” she boasted, enjoying that she had surprised him, even as her heart raced. “You do, don’t you?”

  She grinned at him, willing him to say he did. It was perhaps perverse to push him in such a way, but she was not going to wait about forever for him to say it.

  Besides, she wondered if he simply needed an excuse. Some men struggled with the word.

  He stilled for a moment, cocked his head to the side, and said, “Of course, I love you, Helena. Was it ever in question?”

  “A lady does like to hear it,” she said.

  “Then you must hear it from me. I love you, Lady MacAlister.”

  “Good,” she said with a nod. And she leaned into his arm. “Now let’s go in before the opera begins.”

  They sat down beside her aunt, who was oblivious to all that had just occurred.

  What should have felt like a truly momentous moment. . . Did not.

  Gideon had declared his love for her. And yet he had not asked her if she loved him.

  It was a silly thing to think. And she began to regret pushing him. What if he had simply said it to appease her? He wouldn’t
want to hurt her feelings. Not Gideon.

  Blast. She’d got herself into quite a fluster and just as she was about to turn to him, the orchestra began, and the curtain opened.

  And she fell quiet. That was until she spotted Eloisa on the stage, striding forward and ready to sing.

  A peep escaped Helena’s throat.

  Gideon swung his gaze to her.

  “Are you unwell?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she assured. “Perfectly fine.”

  And that was when she realized that Eloisa had achieved her dream too.

  Chapter 21

  Three Weeks Later

  The papers were full of two things: Helena’s book and the enigmatic new singer at the royal opera house.

  Helena could have laughed with her amusement at it.

  It seemed that she and Eloisa had become famous.

  Of course, no one knew it was Eloisa except herself. She’d tried to go and see her friend, but her friend had proven most elusive.

  Helena could only assume that Eloisa was happy.

  She’d left a few letters, and Eloisa had eventually written a short missive back stating that all as well, but she was terribly busy at the moment. She had little time for visits, but she promised that she would come to Helena soon.

  Helena wondered how Lucy was getting on in her new adventures.

  Pippa was married, of course, and already in Egypt. Her letters were a revelation.

  She was delighted for Pippa. The fact that her friend had gone off to the place that she always wished to and found love with an interesting man was most heartening.

  Quite the opposite of Pippa’s wild life, her own life had become quite staid. If one could call living in London and publishing a book staid.

  But she and Gideon had already fallen into a pattern. It was quite odd, as she’d realized that he was becoming distant.

  Yes, that was the word she would use.

  He was attentive to her, he took care of her, he made sure that all was going with well with her book, and he made love to her every night, but he did not seem particularly, well, intrigued by her as he had been before.

  No, if anything, he had pulled back a good deal, calling her my dear, making certain that her life had little strife, but he held no particular interest in what she was doing.

  Now Gideon spent a good deal of time out, and that was beginning to wear upon her.

  She’d assumed that their marriage was going to be unique, not a typical ton marriage. After all, he was not a typical ton man. Not at all.

  Oh how she wished to go back to Scotland immediately. Perhaps things would be different there.

  She heard his footsteps echoing through the foyer and she jumped up from the breakfast table. She ran out to meet him, astonished that she had to run after him at all.

  It was such a change from a few weeks before.

  “Gideon,” she called. “Will you not join me?”

  “No, my dear,” he tapped his gloves against his leg, impatient. “I must go out. I have several things to attend to.”

  She bit her lip, then blurted, “Perhaps we should return to Scotland. Don’t you wish to go back to your estate?”

  “I do. Of course I do, and we shall soon, but I have a few affairs to attend to here in London.” He looked over her head towards the door. “Besides, your book has been published and you must wish to revel in it. Perhaps you can arrange a visit to the bookshops to meet your readers?”

  “I’d far rather be with you,” she said honestly. “Wouldn’t you like to spend some time with me? I can read to you from my new work.”

  He blinked, looking decidedly as if he wished to bolt. “Oh that’s very kind of you, my dear. But I find that—”

  “Gideon,” she said tightly. “What is this?”

  “I beg your pardon?” he asked, blinking.

  “You are completely different than you were before,” she explained, feeling a trifle desperate.

  “I am myself,” he disagreed.

  “No, you are not,” she gritted. “You are changed since we’ve come to London. You are almost entirely a different person.”

  “Forgive me. I’m not particularly fond of the south.”

  “I know,” she said, trying to smile. “So let’s just go back north immediately, where we can resume—”

  “If you wish to return, perhaps it’s best if you go without me,” he cut in, as if his suggestion was helpful. “I find that I must do—”

  “Gideon,” she whispered, her heart sinking. “Are you regretting marrying me?”

  He stopped at that. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then what is this change?” she demanded.

  “I don’t wish you to be hurt,” he stated, his gaze avoiding hers.

  “Hurt?” she echoed.

  “If something were to happen to me. . .” he began, his voice rough. “You must not become overly attached to me like the characters of your novel.”

  She glared at him, wishing she had something to pitch at him. “That is the most insulting thing anyone has ever said to me,” she declared and then she cocked her head to the side, realizing that anger wouldn’t aid her. Something was very wrong. “That is absolute tosh, Gideon. You invited me to be a part your family. I thought you cared for me.”

  “I do,” he insisted.

  “No, you don’t,” she countered. “Not if you can say such a thing. Overly attached? What foolish drivel is that?”

  “It is not drivel,” he all but growled. “You don’t know the pain of loss—”

  “I do know the pain,” she contradicted, shocked he’d say such a thoughtless thing. “I lost both my parents when I was a child. You at least had your mother.”

  His jaw tightened. “You cannot know the loss of a boy when his father dies.”

  “You’re correct. I cannot,” she agreed, forcing herself to be calm even as her insides rioted. “But I think you have internalized something that is completely not true.”

  “What is it,” he drawled, mocking her, “that I have internalized?”

  The coolness of his words stunned her.

  She squared her shoulders and said, “You think you’re going to die and leave me, and you don’t want me to be hurt by your death.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, pain blooming in his eyes before he shook his head.

  She was obviously close to the mark.

  “I think I should go now.”

  “Gideon,” she said, “we are to be married for the rest of our lives. Let us not be fools together. Let us be open to each other.”

  He glared down at her. “You must accept the fact that my father died when I was young and it is very likely—”

  “Gideon,” she said, “I don’t need to accept that at all.”

  “When I married you, what I wanted,” he broke in fiercely, “was to make sure that you achieved your dreams, and you have. Are you not happy?”

  “That’s all you wish,” she said quietly.

  “Isn’t that enough?” he demanded. “The achievement of your hopes?”

  “No, Gideon,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “It is not. I would not have married if I thought you were just marrying me to make certain I was a published writer. Why are you being so cold?”

  “Making you happy is cold?” he demanded.

  “It is if you’re going to leave me so alone now.” She swallowed. “Do you not care about being happy yourself?”

  “Not particularly,” he returned. “I haven’t worried about such a thing in a very long time.”

  “Perhaps you should,” she replied, her heart breaking.

  He drew in a long breath then said, “I left the boys in Scotland and I went away to Edinburgh to make certain that they could survive without me if something were to happen. I wish you to have the same strength.”

  She gaped at him astonished. “That’s why you’re doing this? Because you wish to make certain that I am strong? Gideon, I am very strong. I know the pain of be
ing alone and you are only making my pain greater by being so—”

  “So what?” he prompted.

  “Ridiculous,” she stated.

  “I cannot change how I feel,” he said.

  “Nor can I.” What was happening? How had it come to this? Why was he being like this?

  “So we are at an impasse,” he said, unyielding.

  She stared at her beautiful husband, wondering how their happiness together had slipped away in an instant. “You have given me my dreams, but what position have you in my life if you do not wish to love me and be with me?”

  He stood, astonished, then snapped, “I have nothing more to say about this at present.”

  “Gideon, please,” she said. “Don’t do this. Don’t be distant from me. I beg of you.”

  “Don’t beg,” he said. “It’s not becoming of a lady.”

  “I don’t care if it’s bloody becoming or not,” she countered, determined not to let him push her away, as his mother had warned. “This is my life and yours. I thought we were so much more. I thought you were bold and unique and mad by moonlight.”

  “It’s not moonlight right now,” he gritted. “It’s the cold light of day.”

  She could feel his pain. Years of it. How she wished she could soothe him. For that pain was ruining both of their lives at present.

  “Did you lie the other night when I asked you if you loved me?”

  “No, I do love you,” he said simply.

  “Then how can you be like this?” she demanded, trying to understand.

  And then it struck her.

  Fear.

  Her husband was desperately afraid. Was there anything she could do to help him?

  She didn’t know because she knew that fear was very powerful.

  He had managed to eradicate her fears in Scotland, but now he was the one who was afraid.

  He gave her a slight bow and yanked on his gloves. “I bid you good day. I have an appointment and must go immediately.”

  She nodded and did not try to stop him.

  She knew there was nothing she could say right now that would change his mind.

  As he rushed out of the house, she turned back towards the breakfast chamber. Now what would she do with her day?

  She felt completely at a loss.