“Something more is on your mind,” she whispered to Julia as they entered the ballroom. “Will you not tell me what it is?”
“Do these arguments not tire your mind, Helena?” Julia asked as Kitty was greeted by their hosts, the Earl and Countess of Rotherham. “How many years have we spent hating the Moores? Have you ever wondered if they really deserved it?”
“What odd words you speak,” Helena whispered. “You have met them as many times as I have. Did they ever leave you feeling as if they were your friends? They certainly have made no effort to be kind to me.” Julia didn’t answer, and they were forced to fall silent as they were introduced by their aunt to their hosts.
Helena curtsied deeply. She uttered polite and proper words, congratulating the Countess of Rotherham on the beauties of the ballroom, yet her mind was distracted. She was thinking of Julia’s words and her own many meetings with the Moores.
In particular, she thought of the Duke of Bridstone. He certainly disliked her. There was not a moment shared between them that had not been full of disdain or resentment. He hated her because she was a Carter, but she often wondered if there was something more to it. More than once, she had caught him staring at her across the room, that gaze intense. It would make a tremble pass up her spine, one she told herself was a tremble of fear.
“Come girls, let us do the rounds.” Kitty led the way through the ballroom, introducing them to her friends and acquaintances.
Helena smiled and curtsied to those she met, admiring the room that was decked in autumnal boughs. Orange and golden leaves were wrapped around pillars and standing candelabras. At one side of the room, the string quartet’s instruments were even decorated with such golden boughs. Every guest in attendance had followed through with the theme of autumn. Russet feathers were thrust in ladies’ updos, and gentleman’s pockets were stuffed with golden handkerchiefs.
Even Julia wore a pale golden gown, shifting from her usual demure colors of white and ivory. She looked quite stunning, and Helena repeatedly admired her, fussing with her own gown that was a much bolder dark red.
“Helena, I cannot let the matter go.” Julia pulled Helena away from a group of ladies as Kitty began to gossip.
“You wish to speak more of this now?” Helena asked. About the Moores? You should take part in our aunt’s conversation then. You know as well as I that her favorite past time is to gossip.” She gestured with her gloved fingers toward their aunt, who was now fluttering a fan in front of her lips, trying to hide her hasty whispers to her friends from passersby.
“It is not gossip I wish to speak of.” Julia huffed. The exasperated sound drew Helena’s attention. “Do you not think the rift is an ancient one? One that we should endeavor to forget?”
“Our aunt may cling onto the tale we have been told, but there is more to it than that. Have you forgotten what our father told us?” Helena glanced at those around her, ensuring no one was listening in before lowering her voice and whispering in her sister’s ear. “Our father has told us of their business practices. They are deceptive and lie in their business dealings to take advantage of those they once called partners.”
“That is what our father says, yes,” but Julia did not sound convinced and chewed her lip once again.
“Continue to chew your lip as you are doing, and you will make yourself bleed. Come, let us get you a drink. It might calm your nerves.” Helena pulled her sister toward the edge of the room where there was a drinks table and poured out two glasses of punch. As she passed the glass into her sister’s hand, she could have sworn Julia’s fingers were trembling. “Drink this, it will help. I am certain of it.”
Julia nearly downed the first glass so fast that Helena giggled and filled it up for her again.
“Perhaps drink this one a little slower.”
Her sister’s nervousness had Helena’s curiosity piqued, but she had no more time to discuss the situation, for a friend of theirs was approaching. Miss Nancy Hardy, daughter to a baron, was Helena’s dearest friend. Small and slight in figure, she had a habit of disappearing into a crowd and now rushed through small gaps between groups of gossipers, hurrying to their side.
“Helena! Julia,” Nancy called to them. “Oh, am I glad to see you.” She sighed and gripped Helena’s arm.
“You look as in need of a drink as my sister does. Here, take this one.” Helena passed her own glass to Nancy and poured another for herself. “What has you all in a fluster?”
“Have you not heard?” Nancy asked. “The Moores are here tonight. I knew I had to tell you at once.”
Julia choked on her punch, and Helena clapped her on the back to help clear her airways.
“Careful, dear.” Helena offered her a handkerchief, her protective and mothering instinct toward her sister kicking in. Julia thanked her and dabbed at her lips, but her eyes danced across Nancy’s face.
“They are here? Already?”
What does she mean, already?
The words captivated Helena. She stared closely at her sister’s face but could discern nothing in her expression beyond a pinkening of her cheeks.
“They are here,” Nancy said again. “People are shocked after what was written in the scandal sheet this morning that the Duke of Bridstone would show his face.” Her pale grey eyes widened sharply. “He is audacious indeed.”
“The Duke of Bridstone has never been a blushing, shy man, has he?” Helena said knowingly, arching her eyebrows. She had often sparred with him at events such as this or when they had bumped into one another promenading in Hyde Park. “I will say this though, I am surprised he came tonight. He usually prefers to avoid such balls of theton. I once heard him say he’d prefer the company of his greyhounds to that of theton.”
Despite her words, Helena’s eyes darted across the guests in the ballroom, seeking out his face.
“He is not the only Moore here tonight though,” Nancy went on. “His cousin is here too, Percival Moore Cooper, Lord Sheylough, and of course the Duke’s brother, Lord Robert Moore.”
“Wonderful, are the entire Moore family to descend on us tonight?” Helena laughed at the idea. “At least his mother and aunt have stayed at home.”
