The Untamed Heiress. Julia Justiss

To this household whose master, she thought, recalling Darnell’s handsome face and kind eyes, might just prove that honorable men existed after all.

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      WHILE HELENA ACQUAINTED herself with his home and staff, Adam made a number of business calls, ending with a visit to the Standish mansion on Grosvenor Square. Though the ornate drawing room was full of guests, Miss Standish looked up and smiled when she heard him announced.

      The heiress would never be described as a Beauty, but Adam was pleasantly surprised to discover that the plump little girl who’d followed him about like an eager puppy had grown into an attractive young woman, her smile engaging, her pale blue eyes intelligent, her blond hair charmingly arranged. Her wealth was revealed by the excellence of her gown’s cut and fabric rather than by a showy effusion of trimming or a superfluity of jewels.

      His first impression favorable, after paying his respects to her mother, Adam walked toward the sofa where she sat surrounded by guests. To his gratification, upon seeing him approach, she waved him to a chair.

      If, while she made polite chat with her other guests, the young lady occasionally slid him a glance under her lashes, Adam was also covertly inspecting her. Some of the anxiety that had tensed his shoulders and settled in an ache at his temples eased, for not only was her appearance pleasing, her behavior was exemplary.

      He observed none of the capricious airs or haughtiness of manner often exhibited by a young woman who knew herself to be a sought-after matrimonial prize. On the contrary, she gave equal attention to both the young men paying her court and two prosing dowagers. While deftly parrying the fulsome compliments of several highborn peers, she also offered a few kind words to a stammering young man from a minor family whom she might have snubbed with impunity.

      Adam’s impression of Priscilla’s mother, stridently directing the conversation around her, was less positive. But Mrs. Standish had already been a stiff, overbearing woman in Priscilla’s childhood—which was why her daughter had escaped Standish Hall to follow Adam whenever possible.

      If he discovered that he and Priscilla still suited, they’d not be living under her mother’s thumb anyway, Adam reminded himself. Waiting for an opportunity to move closer, when the dowager at Miss Standish’s elbow said goodbye, Adam swiftly commandeered the vacant seat.

      Turning back from bidding another guest farewell, Miss Standish saw him and smiled again. The odd impression struck him that, though pleasant enough, even up close her smile lacked the magnetism of Miss Lambarth’s. He shook off the thought as Miss Standish addressed him.

      “Captain Darnell—or I suppose I should say ‘my lord’? I understand you’ve left the army. So sorry about your poor papa, by the way. He was a fine gentleman and you must feel his loss keenly.”

      “Thank you, Miss Standish, I do. But now that Bonaparte is corralled at last, ’tis good to be home.”

      “And your friends must delight to have you here unharmed. Though I applauded the bravery that had you mentioned in the dispatches, I did fear for your safety.”

      So she’d kept track of him. Despite himself, Adam was touched. “That was kind of you—given that more often than not, when you were scolded for some mischief when we were children, ’twas I who’d led you into it.”

      “Ah, but the adventure was always worth the scold,” she replied, her smile deepening and a glow in her eyes.

      Adam had been the recipient of feminine admiration often enough to recognize it in Miss Standish. Heartened by that excellent sign and seeing no reason to proceed by half measures, although she had just refused several other supplicants this favor, he continued, “If you dare risk your mama’s censure again by driving out with a gentleman whose only claim upon your kindness is an attachment from youth, let me escort you to the park this afternoon. I regret that the war and the…exigencies of my family led to our losing touch, and should like to reestablish our bond.”

      There could be no mistaking his intent. For a moment, the little group around her fell silent—doubtless marveling at his temerity. Her smile fading, Miss Standish simply stared at him, and Adam feared he might have been too bold.

      But his circumstances were urgent, he told himself as he awaited her answer. If she felt herself above renewing their relationship, better to find out right now.

      Despite that brave conclusion, he was relieved when Miss Standish finally replied, amused reproof in her tone, “I see that time has taught you neither patience nor prudence, Lord Darnell.”

      “No, ma’am. War rather teaches a soldier to value audacity and surprise.”

      She laughed outright. “Two qualities I would have thought you amply supplied with from the beginning! Very well, Lord Darnell. I will drive with you.”

      Ignoring the mutters of disapproval from his vanquished rivals, Adam fixed a time. Hardly daring to believe he had progressed so far in a single morning call, he bid Miss Standish and her mother goodbye and departed.

      Given the partiality the heiress had just shown him, if in the relative privacy of his curricle they were able to reestablish the easy camaraderie of their childhood friendship, he thought exultantly, he might wrap up this courtship business and have Claygate on the road to recovery sooner than expected.

      

      LATER THAT MORNING, Helena put aside her book to receive the corsetiere’s assistant. Marveling at the fineness of the garments, she fingered each one with delight as the girl lifted them from the boxes: feather-light linen shifts, petticoats and stays embroidered with tiny bows and blossoms, night rails of silk whose lushness whispered against her skin. Rejecting only the flannel items, she told the shopgirl she would take all the rest.

      After nuncheon, Lady Darnell and Charis returned with new treasures: gloves of kid, chamois and net in every shade of the rainbow; slippers and half boots of French kid; twilled silk and Norwich wool shawls; fans of wood, bone and ivory with intricate painted panels. The ladies also brought a few hats that could be trimmed to match her gowns and would do until she could visit the shops herself.

      Soon after, the mantua maker arrived with her samples. Determined after years of rough homespun to drape herself in the softest and most delicate of weaves, Helena was persuaded only after much argument to accept some sturdier cotton cloth for day wear.

      Helena then further distressed her aunt by rejecting all the material in the white and pale shades they informed her were the colors considered most suitable for young ladies. She instead selected cloth in gold, scarlet, deep blue and coral hues. Worse yet, in her aunt’s opinion, after reviewing fashion plates, Helena refused to consider any style cut low over the back or bosom.

      In vain did Lady Darnell argue that though the designs might seem a bit immodest to a girl who was country-raised, in London such gowns were worn by ladies of every age. As ashamed of her scarred back as she was of her mangled thumb, Helena could not bring herself to tell the kindhearted Lady Darnell the real reason she refused to consider more revealing styles. Saying that such shoulder-baring gowns would make her cold, the only plausible excuse she could think of to try to placate her aunt, Helena then traced over the styles she liked best, proposing alterations.

      After considering Helena’s suggested changes, Madame Sofie became her unexpected ally, holding up a hand to silence Lady Darnell’s renewed protest. “No, your ladyship, the young miss speaks truth. The neckline just so, in this gold silk, will be different from what others wear, but will much become mademoiselle, with her elegant taille. She will not follow fashion, she will lead it.”

      Fortunately—since Lady Darnell still looked skeptical—Charis agreed with Madame Sofie. “’Tis brilliant, Bellemere! Helena’s gowns shall be of the prevailing style, not in it, and completely unique. Beside her, all the ton Beauties will look insipid!”

      Helena cared nothing about setting fashion. She only hoped that when she met Lord Darnell again, wearing one of her lovely new gowns, she would see approval, rather than disgust, in his eyes.

      Despite