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There was a knock at the door and then the maid peeked inside the room. “Would you like me to help you get dressed?” she asked sheepishly. “All the ladies have gathered downstairs already.”

Ah, the nuncheon.

Helen took a deep breath. Olivia’s friends had a tradition. They gathered every week on Thursday for a ladies’ nuncheon at one of the friends’ houses. This week was Olivia’s turn.

“Yes, please,” Helen said and stood. She didn’t want to go.

She loved Olivia’s friends. They had become her friends, too. She enjoyed their luncheons, and the loud laughter that always accompanied their gatherings, but she just wasn’t in the mood.

What was the alternative?

Sitting alone in her dark, lonely room?

She’d spent enough time there already. And if she were to climb out of this gloomy state of melancholy, perhaps she needed some help from her lady friends.

Helen settled into the circle of friends as the chattering began. The women were happy to see each other and as a result, their conversation flowed from one topic into another without a cohesive train of thought.

Annalise, Lady Payne, sat by the window with her golden locks glittering in the sun. The weather had finally cleared, just a few minutes ago, and Helen was glad she’d got to spend some time in the garden with her daughter.

Princess Victoria, the daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and the Russian Tsarevna, her black hair gathered on top of her head, her pearls adorning her gentle neck, sulked in the corner, looking particularly gloomy. Even her jeweled ensemble didn’t help color her melancholic state. Helen wondered if perhaps she and the princess had a lot more in common than she’d thought.

Then there was Lavinia, Lady Roth, rosy-cheeked, and bright-eyed, sat to the left of Olivia, gesturing wildly as she explained something about a baby. Her babe? Helen wasn’t certain.

Helen sat quietly on the edge of the group, observing her friends, but not engaging in the discussion. They all led very active lives and had so much to share, while Helen was on the periphery of life, looking in.

Her mind drifted to the crisp autumn night when she had danced on the balcony, twirling beneath the glittering stars…

“I did see him with the babe,” Lavinia said, suppressing laughter that threatened to erupt. “He is so big and menacing, a ferocious frown on his serious features. But when he holds his babe, he immediately turns into the gentlest of creatures.”

Who are they talking about? Helen realized she’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“And what about Caroline?” Annalise asked. “She was the loudest opponent of having children before turning into a doting mother!”

Ah! They were talking about the Duke and the Duchess of Kensington, who had recently had their first babe. Helen didn’t know them very well, but the idea of the forbidding duke completely melting at the sight of his babe made a lump appear in her throat. She would have given everything just to see Greyson hold his child…

Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she tried to regulate her breathing. Greyson had wanted children so badly. And Helen, the inept wife that she was, couldn’t do her only job and deliver a child to him. If she could have, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have looked to other women for pleasure. Perhaps he wouldn’t have seduced the young girl who subsequently lost her life because of him. Perhaps he would be alive still.

Helen blinked back her tears.

“I will not tell him that, will I?” Lavinia said, and the room erupted in laughter.

Victoria turned a confused face toward her cousin-in-law. “Who? William? What did he do?”

The room went quiet then, people’s features turning somber.

Ah, another poor soul who was missing her husband. Of course, Victoria’s husband was not dead. Far from it. He was just a rotten scoundrel, a criminal, and a man responsible for Caroline’s uncle’s untimely death.

Lavinia reached out and patted Victoria’s hand. “Um… no, I didn’t say William. But I suppose we can turn our conversation toward him if you wish.”

Victoria looked down, playing with the pleats of her petticoat. “No. I was just… I thought I heard—I misheard.”

Helen cleared her throat and said in a soft, aching voice, “You miss him.”

“I do not!” Victoria said emphatically, her eyes burning with hurt and something akin to fury. “He is a terrible person. I cannot miss him.”

Helen lowered her gaze. I cannot miss him. Helen felt those words deep in her soul. I cannot love a man who betrayed me. Those were the words she’d told herself many, many times while she tried to get over the pain that her husband had caused her. And yet she did. She loved him terribly. And so did Victoria. And as much as she tried to deny it, the passion with which she proclaimed those words belied the truth.