“Miss Davenport, if I might escort you to the carriage,” Mr. Marcellus said.
Papa winked and trailed behind them.
Taking hold of Mr. Marcellus’s arm, Helen moved in closer to his body. It radiated with heat. “The next time we attend a performance together, I will endeavor to ensure that it is an operetta,” he said.
Helen’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, Mr. Marcellus, I would be more than happy to see any performance. It does not have to be limited to an opera.”
His eyes danced under the light of the torches. “I will keep that in mind.”
“Will you call upon me on the morrow?”
“Alas, as much I would rather spend time in your company, I fear that I will be passing the entirety of the day in the office of my solicitor. However, if I finish early, I will make every effort to call upon you.”
Helen nodded. “Then the next time we shall meet will be at the Woodrow ball.”
He grinned. “Indeed. I am looking forward to dancing two sets with you.”
They reached the carriage. Bringing her gloved hand to his lips, he placed a gentle, chaste kiss upon it. His eyes locked on to hers. Internally, she shivered in delight.
“Good night, Miss Davenport.”
He handed her up to the carriage.
“Good night, Mr. Marcellus.”
Her hand remained in his a moment longer than necessary as she slid into position. The door slammed shut.
Uncle William tapped on the top of the carriage. “Walk on.”
Mr. Marcellus backed away and stood with his hands behind his back as she watched his form disappear from sight, counting down the moments until they could be together again.
Seven
Chapter 7
Helen stood with her family just outside the entry door to Woodrow Manor’s ballroom, site of the evening’s festivities. Wax poured down the flickering candles illuminating the path. Helen adjusted her elbow-length gloves, wishing dearly she could remove them. The fabric was itchy against her skin and the fit was too confining.
“Aunt, are you certain attending the ball tonight is a good idea?” she murmured.
“I am positive. We mustn’t act as if we are aware that the status quo has changed. William and Mr. Marcellus have carefully sent out discrete inquiries about town. There is not a single whisper of your name being mentioned in connection to you-know-what.”
Yet. I hope this plan goes out without a hitch. It seems like a stretch to make it appear as if Mr. Marcellus has been courting me since I arrived to town.
Aunt Sarah whispered into Helen’s ear, “Stand tall, shoulders square, and do not let your guard down. The matchmaking mamas of the Ton are like sharks circling their prey. At the first sign of weakness, they will make their move.”
She reviewed Helen’s appearance one final time. “As far as they are concerned, until there is a proposal formally made to you by Mr. Marcellus, they will try to turn his eyes towards their daughters.” Her aunt smiled. “Now, try to enjoy the evening. There is no need to stress. No matter what, Mr. Marcellus has promised Hugh and William he would do the honorable thing and marry you.”
The palms of Helen’s hands grew clammy.
They had spent the better part of three visits together and she still knew practically nothing about the man. What was his given name? Where was his estate? Did he have any family? The questions swirled through her brain.
All that I have to go on is that he is well read and able to engage Papa and Uncle William in debates.
Her heart began to beat at a quicker pace. When Mr. Marcellus was around, Helen found herself unable to think clearly. She felt safe, warm, and protected. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the man that evoked an entire new set of sensations within her. She’d always been proud of her ability to be sensible when it came to men, but with Mr. Marcellus, it was not her head that did the speaking, but her heart.
Aunt Sarah cleared her throat. “William, Hugh, we are ready.”
Helen’s father, dressed in a coat of emerald green, extended his arm to her. “Miss Davenport, you are a vision.”