Wedded in Scandal

feel touched by words from a drunken fool. “He had so little care of us. It’s…um…nice to know that he did love us.”

“Drunkards are a sad lot, my lady. They love, my lady. Just like the rest of us. They love a great deal. But they just can’t bring themselves to act as they ought. But never doubt the feeling.”

“Thank you, Dribbs,” she whispered. “Thank you for that.”

“It is nothing but the honest truth. Now eat up, my lady. I know you’re hungry, and Lady Gwen’s new relations are running everyone ragged.”

Helaine nodded, using the time to sort through the swirling emotions inside her. The feelings toward her father were complicated enough, but she had no idea how to handle Dribbs now. Bloody hell, he knew who she was.

“Please, Dribbs, I am especially thick this morning. I’m not sure how to proceed.”

“Well, exactly as a lady ought.”

She bit down into the bun with animal-like ferocity. She thought that was the better choice than to rip the man’s head off. Act as a lady ought. My God, what did that mean? “Dribbs—”

“You have suffered a great wrong, Lady Helaine, and that’s a crying shame. So you’re Mrs. Mortimer now, a right fine dressmaker, hiding in the shadows, skulking around the house, praying that no one notices you.”

She straightened. “I do not skulk!”

“You hunch your shoulders and try to hide your face when you’re not talking dresses and the like.”

Did she? “That’s not skulking.”

“It is, because it’s just when you’re here. Wendy remarked on it to me just the other day. Said you don’t do that at your shop. Just here.”

He’d been talking to Wendy. “Dribbs, I am not ashamed of who I’ve become.”

“’Course not. But seems to me, you’re ashamed of Lady Helaine. But, begging your pardon, you’re the daughter of an earl. Shameful father or not, you shouldn’t be hiding yourself. Ain’t no one here will think less of you. I’ll see to it.”

“I beg of you, Dribbs. Please do not speak of this to anyone.”

“Of course not!” He reared back, obviously insulted, but a moment later, he was leaning forward to impress his point on her. “But that’s just what I’m trying to tell you, my lady. There’s no need to skulk.”

“I don’t skulk!”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, the maids are beginning to remark on it. Calling you odd, and that’s just not right. Blood will out, Lady Helaine. You may be Mrs. Mortimer, but people can see you’re better. Trying to hide it just raises more questions.”

“But they can’t know—”

“No one will know. If you hold your head up and stop hiding your face, then they just think that you’re somebody who used to be more. Someone facing a bit of hard times. There’s no shame in that. It’s only when you skul—er, hide your face—that they begin to question. Why would she hide? Who did she used to be?”

Helaine nodded slowly. She had been especially nervous here. It wasn’t just that Robert was here. It was being back among the elite. What if someone recognized her? What if someone used to be a servant to someone she’d known in school? She knew the odds weren’t high, but she couldn’t help worrying. And indeed, her fears were justified, because Dribbs did know her identity.

“It would be disastrous if word got out.”

“And it won’t, if you stop acting like you’ve got something to be ashamed of.”

Helaine swallowed. “But should I eat meals with the family, then? Isn’t that more odd?”

Dribbs snorted. “You spent most of the night closeted with his lordship. Won’t be the first mistress to be sat at the breakfast table.”

“We were just talking!” Helaine cried.

Dribbs only shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what you were doing. Just matters that you act the part. Mistress, dressmaker, daughter of an earl. None of them would be skulking about my halls.”

“I am not his mistress!”

“As you wish,” he said.

There was nothing more to be said at that point. Besides, Robert was no doubt waiting for her at the breakfast table. She still wasn’t sure it was a good idea to go. After all, it only increased the idea that she was his mistress. But that was better than the truth of her identity, so she supposed she had to do what was required. Besides, it was only a couple days more. It would be nice to sit at a table again, to be served food, and to talk over dinner. Like a little taste of what might have been.

Still uneasy with the idea, she left Dribbs to go to the breakfast area. She didn’t burst into the room as if she was born to it, but was mindful that she didn’t skulk either. She stepped boldly forward and pushed open the door.

Two people sat at table—Robert and Gwen—and both looked up and smiled at her. Robert’s expression, of course, was a good deal warmer than Gwen’s, but it was nice to see that both welcomed her.

“There you are, Mrs. Mortimer. I was beginning to wonder if you had succumbed to some ailment.”

“Uh, no, my lord,” she managed, as she belatedly remembered to curtsy. “Mr. Dribbs has just now informed me of your request.”

Robert raised his eyebrows at her tone, which had been a tad bit snippy. He likely took it to mean she was angry with him, which she was, she supposed. After all, because of him she’d stayed up most of the night talking with him and now everyone thought her his mistress. She completely dismissed her own culpability. Guilt was one emotion she didn’t have room for just then. Not with all the feelings that Dribbs had just stirred up.

In short, she was confused and disoriented, and now she had to sit at table with the man who had directly or indirectly caused all of it!

Bloody hell, she was tired. And still hungry. She decided she could understand things better with tea. But before she could move, Robert tilted his head and spoke in his usual imperious tone.

“Mrs. Mortimer? Is something amiss?”

A very great deal, but she couldn’t say that. “Amiss? No, my lord. I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re standing there glowering, and I find it most irritating to my digestion.”

“I am not glowering!” she responded before she could stop herself.

“I believe you were.”

“I most certainly—”

“Actually, you were,” interrupted Gwen. “Come, come, Helen. Please sit down. Have you eaten?” She gestured to the waiting footman. “Jeremy, please get Mrs. Mortimer a full plate.” Then she looked back at Helaine. “We have a proposal to make to you, and I believe you shall want a full stomach before we embark upon it.”

“On the proposal? Or the action?” She only asked because it was clear brother and sister were cut from the same cloth. Whatever this proposal was, asking for her assistance was merely a formality. She would participate in whatever it was because she was a servant and that was what servants did. Of course, that didn’t stop her from enjoying the excitement in Gwen’s face.

“Oh, don’t let my brother put you in an ill humor, especially when he is working so hard to please me right now.”

Helaine turned a dramatically exaggerated look at Robert. “Pleasing? Your brother?” Oh, dear. Helaine realized too late that such was not the response of a servant. Fortunately, Gwen did not notice, as she went into a peal of laughter. Then she clapped her hands in merriment.

“That is why I like you so, Helen. You have just the right understanding of my brother. You don’t mind me calling you Helen, do you?”

“Of course not.” She had given the girl leave to use it earlier in the week. She just hadn’t realized how intimate and friendly it would feel, especially with Robert sitting directly beside them. It felt as if she were one of the family or a friend visiting from school.

“Well, in any event, to my shock Robert is indeed being most pleasant today. I was telling him that he had to remove himself to Father’s club, and he was telling me that he would do no such thing—”

“I must agree,” Helaine put in. “I wouldn’t dream of ousting him from his home.”

“Pshaw! I made a promise to you, and I meant to keep it. But then he made the most delicious proposal!”