Stepmother by Kate Callaghan

Author:Kate Callaghan [Callaghan, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Kate Callaghan, Stepmother, Cinderella Story, YA, NA, Young Adult, New Adult, Historical Fantasy
Publisher: Kate Callaghan
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Two months later

HÉLÈNE WAS BREAKING her fast alone, as she did most mornings. Gusteau had married her for her name and beauty, not for any want of love or companionship. In fact, she rather enjoyed being alone. When Gus was away, doing whatever it was he did, she oversaw the house and its expenses, and she didn’t have to listen to his vitriol about society.

She was surprised by his animosity towards those in their circle, but she suspected it was because he didn’t like conforming. He would rather be gambling and off doing God knew what else. She knew it was better not to ask what. But if he was talking about their supposed friends, then it meant he wasn’t making comments about her—how she had chosen the wrong gown for a gathering or hadn’t served the right food to their dinner guests.

She was just putting the lid back on the jar of sweet strawberry compote when the butler came in and told her she had a visitor waiting in her private salon—her favourite room, because she had been allowed to decorate it as she saw fit. Gus had told her to leave the rest of the house. She had dared to change small details, like the tapestries or the diningware, and found that he didn’t even notice, but she didn’t want to risk too much.

There was no trace of the kind-hearted boy she had grown up with left in him. Then again, after years of helping Seamstress run the shop, she wasn’t the same girl he had known either. Her work had made her far too opinionated for Gusteau’s liking. Hélène found solace in her return to society; most of her friends had welcomed her back with open arms, although some couldn’t bring themselves to socialise with her after her time in Seamstress’s care. She had served them for years, and they simply couldn’t get over it. She could handle the sidelong looks and the excuses of lost invitations, though. She had been through worse.

She left the servants to clear her breakfast and went to the salon, wondering who could be visiting her at this hour. She had received no letter about a visit. Perhaps it was Seamstress with her new gowns.

But when she entered through the cream double doors, it was Henri standing by the fireplace.

Hélène stopped short and swallowed, unable to speak.

“Don’t look so frightened. Is it really such a surprise that I came?” he asked, pushing up his hat.

Hélène felt a wave of anxiety wash over her. He looked like he had just stepped off the ship, his tan darkened by the months at sea, though he was dressed more finely than she had expected.

“What are you doing here?” she muttered.

Henri’s face paled. Disbelief filled his eyes. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!”

He walked to her, and before she could stop him, he reached out for her ungloved hands. The feel of her calluses didn’t bother him, though Hélène had grown conscious of them.

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