“I’m worried about this fever,” Fen said, sipping her tea with a thoughtful frown. “Anthony
says he’s seen agues like this in the East, and they can recur for years.”
“This sounds a very odd diplomatic mission,” Caro said. “Away for months, and traipsing all over Russia.”
“Anthony says Russia’s a strange place,” Fen said.
“And of course if Anthony says it, it must be true,” Helena said slyly.
When Fen blushed, she looked like a pretty sixteen-year-old. “I’m sorry. I must sound addled. Love turns the brain to custard.”
Lust had a similar effect, Helena could now confirm.
“So true,” Caro said. “The other day, I was walking in the woods, and I started thinking about Silas. I got completely lost.”
The reminiscent light in Caro’s eyes hinted there was more to the story. Since they’d found love, Helena had noted the changes in her friends. But today she was hypersensitive to the female satisfaction pervading the room.
“It’s a large estate,” Helena said.
“I got as far as the Grecian temple before Silas found me.”
Ideal for a private rendezvous. When she’d been a giddy girl, Helena and West had often met there.
“We’re hardly Dashing Widows anymore,” Fenella said with a smile. “Perhaps we should rechristen ourselves the dreamy ladies.”
Helena expected someone to mention the one unattached Dashing Widow, but Caro started to describe her forthcoming voyage to China instead. Helen let the chatter wash over her, while she wallowed in wanton memories.
Last night, West had answered so many of her questions.
Was she unnatural? Not with the right lover.
What fueled the light in her friends’ eyes? She now had a fair idea.
Tonight West would come to her bed again. And perhaps this time, he wouldn’t leave her unsettled, as well as supremely satisfied.
Because every answer she’d received had raised a hundred questions. And all of them disturbed her. How could a physical act conjure such a profound emotional effect? She knew it was mere imagination, but when West thrust deep inside her, she’d felt like they united into a single being.
“Helena?”
She emerged from her reverie to find both Caro and Fen staring at her.
“Sorry. I wandered off.” She struggled to sound like her sharp-tongued self, not this moony creature she’d become. “You can’t blame me. I’ve heard nothing but China and weddings—and wedding china!—since I arrived.”
Caro smiled. “It must be dull for you, with Fen and I so preoccupied.”
Did the question hide a sting? After all, she was still on the shelf—at least as far as her friends knew. How shocked they’d be to learn what she’d done last night. Shocked, and quick to interfere.
But Caro’s smile was genuine. “This is our last chance to be together for a long while.”
Helena picked up her tea and said with perfect sincerity, “I’m delighted you’re both so happy—and I heartily approve of your choices. Silas is the best brother in the world. I look forward to you becoming my sister in fact as well as in my heart, Caro. And, Fen, I’d never pictured you with a man like Anthony, but you’re perfect for each other.”
Caro’s regard was mocking. “Oh, dear, I’m not picking up a single note of irony. Are you sickening for something, Hel? Perhaps you should go upstairs and lie down.”
Only if West comes, too, she wanted to say.
She gave a short laugh. “It’s the blasted atmosphere in this house. Even I can’t help getting mawkish. I promise everything will return to normal once we’ve packed away the wedding finery.”
Fen studied her. “Helena, things will change, that’s inevitable, but our friendship will endure. I hope you’ll be a regular visitor to the Beeches.”