He frowned. “But what is the difference between the two?”
Her head tilted as she looked at him. “Can you not see it? Truly?”
He shook his head, finding his ill humor returning. “I would not have asked if I already knew.”
She dipped her head. “Of course, my lord. My apology—”
“Just say it, Helaine. Pray do not go stiff after all this time.”
She paused a moment to study his face. He kept his expression neutral, almost bland. But he was keenly interested in her thoughts and so he waited in stillness for her perspective. In time, she realized he was being honest and answered. “You wanted your mother to get out of bed because you and your siblings needed a mother, your father needed a wife, and the household needed a mistress. The more forceful you might be with your needs, the more she would withdraw into her bedroom.”
“But we did need her.”
She sighed. “Yes, I know.” She stepped forward and lightly placed her hand on his arm. “Robert, I am terribly sorry that she failed you. You deserved a mother who could help you against your father, against all the tasks that were thrust too young on your shoulders.”
“But these other women, Edward’s relations. What have they done to help her?”
“They want her to be happy, Robert. To play with the dresses if she likes, to go on a walk and breathe the fresh air if she desires. They look to what she wants and take all of the burden on themselves. Truly, your mother did nothing all day but sit and have people bustle about her showing her things. And we left her alone when she tired, though she never left the room.”
“I want her to be happy, too.” He hated that he sounded so ridiculous. That Helaine thought he had no care for his mother, that he did not wish her to be as joyful as she could possibly be. “I did everything I could for her.”
He saw understanding light in her eyes. “Of course you did, Robert. Of course you
“But she does not feel that way with Edward’s family?”
“Of course not. She does not love them like she loves you.”
Robert turned, his eyes widening at the impact of her words. She spoke so casually, as if all of this were obvious. Perhaps it was to her. But to him, the statement that his mother loved him reached deep inside. It touched a well of misery he hadn’t even realized was there. Not until her words healed them.
His mother loved him. Despite the way she shut herself away from him, despite the whimpers and misery whenever she stepped outside of her bedroom door. Despite it all, she loved him. He tugged the words close to his heart and held them there like a precious toy. And when he feared he would unman himself by crying in front of her, he reached for the bottle of brandy that Dribbs had so conveniently left on the sideboard. He crossed to it and poured a glass with a shaking hand. When the globe was filled, he lifted it up but didn’t drink.
His mother loved him. When Helaine said it, he believed it. And the knowledge was pure joy.
Eventually he found his voice, though he had to push the words through a thick throat. “If dresses and Edward’s women are what she needs, then they shall have the run of the house.”
“Well, I shouldn’t go overboard with that, if I were you. Perhaps every other day or every third.”
He turned back to her, finding he could smile now without losing his dignity. “Whatever you think best. I shall tell Dribbs to open and close the door solely upon your decision.”
Her brows shot up at that. “At the direction of a dressmaker? Surely you jest.”
“Surely I don’t.” He swirled the brandy about in his glass. He looked at the dark liquid, smelled the aroma of the rich brew, but his mind was on her. Helaine. Eventually he looked at her and asked the two questions that had been in his mind from the moment he’d seen her. “Why are you here, Helaine? And how can I make you stay?”
She smiled and stepped closer. He was within a breath of taking her into his arms when she lifted the glass out of his hands. Then she was walking away with it, sipping the brew as cheekily as if he had offered it to her. And he should have, he realized. He just hadn’t thought she would drink brandy.
Meanwhile she settled onto the settee, kicked off her slippers, and curled her feet up behind her. He had to blink at the sight. How many times had he seen Gwen do just the same thing? And yet, the idea of Gwen and Helaine in the same thought, the same breath, as the same two mature women made him distinctly uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat by way of ordering his thoughts. Then he gestured to the bar behind him. “Would you care for something else?”
She shook her head. “Brandy was my father’s love. I grew up stealing sips from his glass.”
“Ah. Then please enjoy as much as you like.”
“Just a sip,” she said, taking just one before setting the glass aside. “I do not care for how a whole glass makes me feel.”
“Out of control?” he guessed.
She nodded, watching him carefully as he crossed to sit beside her. They were not touching. Indeed, he sat as far away from her as he could possibly manage and still be on the settee. But he angled his face and his body to her. He did not want anything to interfere with his sight of her and these precious moments of accord.
“Helaine—”
“I am here because you asked Edward to ask Gwen to install me in the house so that I could design everyone’s gowns for the Season.”
Ah, yes. He had done that, hadn’t he? One of his best ideas ever.
“I only agreed to come because Gwen promised me that you were not at home.”
“I wasn’t then.”
“Yes, I’d noticed you’d returned.”
“I always knew you were a perceptive woman.”
She snorted, but her eyes crinkled at the corners when she did it. If he looked closely, he might say she was smiling. Then he said something that startled even himself.
“I will leave if you wish it. I do not want to make you uncomfortable.”
She sighed and looked at her hands. “I am a dressmaker, my lord. I would not dream of ousting a viscount from his home.”
He had the strongest urge to tap her chin, to stroke her cheek, to do anything to bring her gaze back to his. But he knew that doing such a thing would make her bolt. So he stayed exactly where he was and prayed his words would do what his body could not. “Even so, Helaine. I will leave if you wish it.”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, and he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her response. In the end, she shook her head. “I think in a house this size, we can manage to stay out of each other’s way.”
He didn’t want to stay out of her way, but he didn’t argue. “Thank you, Helaine,” he finally said.
“For letting you stay in your own home?”
“For giving me a second chance.”
Her eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “I said nothing about a second chance, my lord.”
“A second chance to do this,” he said, gesturing to the two of them sitting companionably on a settee. “A second chance to be friends.”
Her mouth slipped open as if she wanted to say something but then found no words. She simply stared at him, and no wonder. Him? Friends with a dressmaker? The idea was ludicrous, and yet he desperately wanted it to be true. And truthfully, the idea was not so far-fetched, he realized. He was friends with Chandelle, wasn’t he? A madame at a former house of prostitution. Why could he not be friends with a dressmaker as well? Especially one who was insightful regarding his family, smart about business, and beautiful enough to make him ache with longing.
“Is it possible, Helaine? Could you trust me enough to be friends?”
She nodded slowly, her words coming out even more reluctantly. “Yes, my lord, I believe it is possible. Not probable, but definitely possible.”
He would take that as a boon and be grateful. “Then you must swear to call me Robert.”
“You know I cannot do that!”
