The Weary Heart (The Unmarriageable Series Book 5) by Mary Lancaster

Author:Mary Lancaster [Lancaster, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Medieval
Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2020-03-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Although Helen did not relish the prospect of another journey to the Hart later that day, she felt obliged to bring the subject up with Lady Overton on the carriage ride home.

“I believe Anne has too much sensibility,” she added diplomatically, “to be a great deal of help in the sick room.”

“Then what on earth is she doing at the Hart when her parents are at Audley Park?” Lady Overton demanded with an unusual spurt of ill-nature.

“Keeping away from her parents,” Eliza said unexpectedly.

Lady Overton blinked, then glanced from her youngest daughter to Helen, her lip twitching. Then she sighed. “Do you think young Kenneth Robinov took those things?”

“No, I don’t,” Helen replied. “I could swear his shock was genuine when they were taken from his trunk.”

“Hmm.” Lady Overton sighed. “I could not expect you to nurse the girl by night and teach the children by day. But I suppose it is almost Christmas. The boys are on holiday, and Eliza will be more than happy to get off the schoolroom leash. So, if you wish to do this, I will happily countenance it. If you don’t, I shall be equally happy to play the selfish employer and forbid it.”

Touched by such consideration, Helen smiled. “You are very good, ma’am.”

“No, I’m not. I just value you, Miss Milsom. And at the same time, I know what it is to have a sick child. My own Charlotte—the duchess—almost died and was poorly for many years.”

“So I have heard.” Helen had an excuse to avoid the inn, to avoid Sir Marcus and the pain that came with him. But this was not about him or herself. “If Mrs. Robinov asks for me, I will go.”

Shut up in the girl’s sickroom, she was unlikely even to see him.

As they stepped down from the carriage at Audley Park, Philip waved to them from a ground-floor window, the reception room where he had set up his easel. Lady Overton inclined her head with a smile, though her posture told Helen she had had enough of her guests. The children, however, waved back and raced into the house to see what he was doing.

Philip will not like that.

He didn’t. When Helen followed them into the reception room, he was glaring at them and swatting Horatio away from his paint palette. “Out!” he ordered, which, considering it was their home not his, irritated Helen.

“They are merely curious and admiring,” she said mildly. “Children, go and wash before tea.”

As she herded them from the room, he thanked her, which she did not trouble to acknowledge.

“Helen, might I have a word?”

She wished he would not keep calling her by her Christian name, as though she were his own family. Since she wasn’t, it lowered her status to that of favored servant—or, worse, implied a quite inappropriate intimacy that did her reputation no good with outsiders. However, she forced herself to turn at the door and say civilly, “Of course. How can I help you?”

“Take a look at this.” He waved an expansive arm toward his easel.

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