“Are you certain you are not ill?” her maid pressed.
“Not so ill that some fresh air would be the death of me,” Verity promised, before rising to her feet. “I would like to wear my blue morning dress, if you please. A stroll in the gardens would be very invigorating.”
The fresh air did wonders for her over the next hour. Her stomach settled more than it had throughout the night. She was able to clear her mind of the uncomfortable social affair, and she wondered what on earth she was supposed to do with herself.
Today, tomorrow, and forever. Will I always attend social events without a husband on my arm? I don’t know how to be a wife or a duchess, but here I am, in London. If Helena is right, my presence there last night will earn me some invitations. I could go anywhere, I suppose. That is my right. My freedom. It’s what I want. And yet…
She couldn’t put her finger on what felt wrong. Only that it did.
Walking back to the front steps, Verity nodded to the footman who seemed to have been waiting for her. “Yes, Adam?”
“You have a guest, Your Grace.”
The knocker was not up at this hour.
She frowned. “Who might it be?”
“Lady Marsten.” He showed the card on his small platter, confirming that Helena had indeed come to visit.
I can hardly believe she is awake at this hour!
“Have tea brought to us. Scones, too,” Verity requested, before taking off in search of her friend. It didn’t take her long to spot the beautiful woman standing tall in the entrance hall, eyeing the decor intently. “Helena! Whatever are you doing here?”
Her friend tugged off her hat before they could reach each other, then opened her arms for a hug. “What else would I be doing? You’re here, and I’m here. What a bore last night was! We barely talked, so I thought I would come check on you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” Verity led her into the nearest parlor. “Do sit. Tea is on the way. It’s still early, I see. Weren’t you spouting about the virtues of proper hours last night?”
“Was I? I hardly noticed. It doesn’t matter. Society means nothing, and you, my dear, mean everything. I hardly know half of the people who came last night. They simply happen to be the people who know everyone else. They couldn’t stop raving about you, you know. I’ve already received three thank-you cards mentioning you.”
Verity eyed her doubtfully, hardly able to believe a word. “That’s nonsense.”
“That is the ton,” Helena corrected. “Of course, one should never believe a word they say. Only in such a situation. I am confident you will receive many invitations today. Then, you can take your pick of hypocritical fools and their fripperies to do anything you like in London.”
“Anything?” Verity echoed with a short laugh. “You may be a widow, but I’m not.”
“You may be someday, so you should practice. Especially if your husband is going to refuse one of my invitations. How fortunate that it was only at my late husband’s townhouse. It’s dreadful, isn’t it?” Helena chattered away as a maid brought a tea tray and Verity poured them each a cup. “You will have to visit my estate sometime soon, now that you’re much closer. The most wonderful people visit, you know. Artists and misfits.”
Verity started to nod, before she paused and wondered if Tristan would have anything to say about that. ‘Misfits’ was a polite word to describe some of the people Helena associated with. She wasn’t as radical as Verity’s father, of course, but the wrong assumption could have Society turning against the merry widow.
“Are you being careful?” Verity asked cautiously.
“Not at all.” Helena tilted her head back with a brazen smile. “Don’t you worry, dear. I have money, and that is my security. Should the world turn against me, I will be all right. No onebothers a widow. I’m wealthy and allowed to be as dramatic as I want to be. Society hardly cares what I do.”
Nodding, Verity wondered if that would always be the case. She recalled how the papers had turned against her father.
Her stomach clenched. Helena deserved peace and joy after so much turmoil in her life. She could only hope her friend was right.
Helena set down her empty cup with a loud clink, turning to grin at her. “Enough about me, dear. I want to hear about you. Is it possible that my short marriage was happier than yours?”
“Is that why you came here?”
Helena merely smiled. “We’re friends, Verity. You cannot lie to my face like you might mislead me in a letter.”
A wave of guilt washed over Verity. She often tried to make her letters as entertaining as possible. It brought her joy to busy herself with the habit; perhaps she was writing too many fripperies if Helena could read between the lines.
“Fine, I shall ask you questions to assess the situation,” Helena announced with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve hardly purchased a new gown or anything for yourself since your wedding. I’ve seen your dress more times than I can count. Where are your new gowns? Is the Duke a miser?”
“No, certainly not. I’ve made purchases,” Verity insisted.
