His eyes found Helena’s, and she felt tongue-tied, unable to reply and explain the tension that bristled in the air.
“We are having an uncomfortable and painful tea, dear.” Fortunately, the Dowager Duchess of Bridstone had no such qualms, and she spoke the truth.
* * *
Christopher restrained himself from grimacing as he glared at his mother. She was an emotional woman, and she had a tendency to be overdramatic. Even now, she heavily put her teacup down in her saucer, so it rang out audibly and made Lady Julia at her side jump in her seat.
Christopher’s eyes darted to Lady Helena.
I see you are doing a fine job in our task to keep the peace.
She must have read something of his thoughts in his expression, for she reddened and looked down into her own teacup.
“Well, Mother, if you intend to greet our guests in such a way, is there any wonder there may be a strangeness to the affair?” Christopher said with humor and strode into the room. If Lady Helena was doing a poor job of making the Carters and his mother get along, then it was plainly down to him to change matters. “Come, I can join you. I’m sure, I’ll find a reason to make you smile.”
“Thank you, Christopher,” Frances said with a small smile already as she poured out a tea for him. Christopher could have sworn he heard Lady Helena sigh loudly, but by the time he looked at her, she was forcing a smile of her own.
“I hear you intend to shop for a wedding gown today, Lady Julia,” Christopher began, determined to push the conversation along before anymore awkwardness could develop.
“Yes, that is right, Your Grace.” Lady Julia sat forward, clearly gladdened to speak of such things. “I have a style in mind, so Mama and Helena are to accompany me this afternoon. I was wondering…” she faltered, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I was wondering, Your Grace,” she addressed Frances, “if you would come with us.”
“Well, I –” Frances’ lips pursed together. Christopher bumped his elbow against his mother’s, stopping her before she could refuse.
“She’ll be delighted to go, I’m sure. In fact, I will escort you all there this afternoon if you like,” Christopher said with a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shock on Lady Helena’s face. Her lips parted in wonder, and her teacup slid out of her fingers. Christopher raised a hand and caught the cup, just as it fell from her grasp.
“Oh, thank you,” Lady Helena murmured, taking the cup back. Christopher tried to ignore the warmth that spread through him as her fingers touched his.
“Then it is settled. I shall escort you all this afternoon. Is this not a good idea, Mother?” He looked at Frances, forcing an answer from her.
“If you wish it,” she murmured, staring down into her teacup.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the Duchess of Dunton managed with a polite smile. In the quiet that followed, Christopher couldn’t help looking at Lady Helena with a victorious smile. Where she had failed, he had prevailed. For now, at least, there would be a little peace between the families.
Once their tea was finished, Christopher escorted the four ladies to his largest carriage, and they went into town. Somehow, he ended up sitting next to Lady Helena on the carriage bench though he couldn’t figure out why. She appeared to preoccupy herself with keeping some space between them, a space that infuriated him.
Does she think I am infected or something? This is absurd! How are we to make peace between the families if even she cannot bear my company?
As they stopped in Covent Garden, Christopher left instructions with his driver to wait then followed the ladies through the town square, heading to the French Modiste, Madame De Winter.
“She is the most fashionable modiste in town,” the Duchess of Dunton assured Frances as they walked side by side with Julia following them.
“Fashionable is one thing, but it doesn’t necessarily always mean one will like the gown,” Frances pointed out. She looked back at Lady Julia. “Just make sure you like the gown, and choose it for that reason alone, rather than what you think thetonwould make of it.”
“Does theton’sopinion not matter at all?” the Duchess of Dunton declared in surprise as Christopher held open the door for the four ladies. One at a time, they stepped into the modiste’s shop, their rather tense and restrained discussion echoing from within.
“Precisely, Your Grace,” Frances replied with a smile. “I care for my children’s happiness, not what thetonthinks. I shall endeavor, as your daughter’s future mother-in-law, to do the same for her and put her happiness first.” Christopher caught sight of the Duchess of Dunton. He couldn’t tell if she bristled, irritated by his mother’s words, or if she held back a smile of surprise.
“Well, this is progress at least,” Lady Helena said and stepped up into the doorway of the shop.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Christopher took her arm, his hand latching around her elbow as he pulled her back from the shop.
“You are manhandling me now? Yes, proper indeed!” she marveled at him and stepped out of the shop. Christopher released her, glancing back and forth across the street. No one was looking their way, for the passersby were too busy hurrying to their own shopping with footmen and maids walking behind them carrying so many boxes they could scarcely see where they put their feet on the cobbled roads. “What is this, Your Grace? I must accompany my sister.”
“It is a reminder of our task here.” Christopher was firm, staring at the narrow line Lady Helena’s lips made in her frustration. “We are supposed to be smoothing the way between our families, a task you put me on, and I see you were doing a very poor job of it indeed when I arrived at tea.”
“I never remember suggesting it would be an easy task,” she hissed and stepped toward him. There was fire in her argument, spirit. Come to think of it, Christopher could never recall a time when Lady Helena had not had spirit in her. It was attractive, in its own way, as much as he wished to deny it.
“It did not seem so difficult.” Christopher motioned through the window to where his mother and the Duchess of Dunton were now looking at white satins together.
