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Victoria smiled down at her hands. “I wish I had enough money so I could move them to another place. That corner of the world is a little… Well, a lot different than what I am used to. And I could swear that whenever I am there, I feel like someone is watching me.” She shuddered, then covered her shoulders with a shawl.

St. Giles wasn’t exactly a glittering district. Helen felt out of sorts there, too. “I am certain that if anyone can find a way to do just that, it would be you.”

“Perhaps I could host a charity dinner… Or a ball. Find more allies who can support the shelter? Oh, I have so many ideas, I will probably spend days hunched over a desk, coming up with a plan.” She clapped her hands together, as delighted as ever. “And what about you? Do you have anything special planned?”

“I just want to spend my days with Laney,” Helen answered honestly. “She is my biggest priority.” And spend my nights with Ian.

As if reading her mind, Victoria threw a narrowed glance toward Helen before asking, “And you are not planning to see Lord McAllistair again?”

Helen almost choked on the air. Had she managed to give away her attraction toward the lord? She didn’t remember even speaking about him to Victoria since she last saw him, although he was always on her mind. She cleared her throat. “I don’t know. If he asks, perhaps.”

“Do you find him agreeable?” Victoria asked directly.

Helen decided not to lie either. “I enjoy his company, yes.”

“I just…” Victoria glanced out the window as the carriage started slowing down. They had arrived at the Roth townhouse already. “Please, don’t fall for his charm.”

Helen’s eyes widened in shock. It’s a little too late for that. “Do you find his charm false?”

“A scoundrel, a rake with the reputation of a devil, starts acting charmingly disarming all of a sudden?” Victoria scoffed. “He just reminds me of someone I know.” The door opened at that moment, and Victoria threw one last glance toward Helen before taking the footman’s arm. “Someone I married.”

* * *

Helen placed a pitcher by the bed and lay down. She rubbed her temples as her head throbbed with a dull ache. She hadn’t been feeling well all day. That wasn’t surprising at all. Some days were just like that. She wasn’t exactly sick, but she wasn’t full of life either.

The weather was rainy and dull. Adding to her gloomy mood, her joints ached and creaked like the old stairs in the servants’ passage. And the outing at the shelter had drained the remaining life out of her body.

When she’d returned home, she’d instantly fallen asleep and only awakened a few minutes ago. She didn’t want to wake the servants, so she went to the kitchen and poured herself a pitcher of fruit shrub.

She often awakened in the middle of the night if she went to bed too early. Then she lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling. She would fall back to sleep eventually. Or she could read a book…

Reading by candlelight sometimes worsened her headache, and she didn’t like wasting candles in her cousin-in-law’s house. Jarvis had never restricted her from using the candles or any supplies in the house. Both he and Olivia were very supportive of her and had let her do anything she wanted ever since she arrived at their house. She felt welcome from the start. Still, she didn’t want to take advantage of their hospitality.

Half her life was spent in the dark when her fatigue took over.

She just wanted to fall asleep now, so she could wake up at a reasonable hour and live her life in the daylight and go to the park with her daughter. Perhaps, see Ian again…

Helen wasn’t sure when she’d started thinking of him as Ian. Perhaps McAllistair was just too long a name to think of in her mind. She liked Ian better anyway. Even if he hadn’t given her explicit permission to call him by his Christian name.

She was surprised at how often her mind jumped to thoughts of him. She’d known him less than a fortnight. They’d interacted only a handful of times and spent just one night together in each other’s arms. A blissful, extraordinary night, but one night nonetheless.

And she didn’t know anything about him. Nothing sufficient.

It was quite a contrast to how long it took Greyson to court her. She had thought him a frivolous young man, with nothing but dallying on his mind.

He had proven her wrong by being insistent and relentless in his courting. He never broke his word to her. He showed up when he’d said he would, and he did what he’d said he would. And then he proposed only a week after her parents’ death, taking her away from the gloomy old house full of memories.

He had saved her in more ways than one. And for that and many other reasons, she came to love him.

But now, only two weeks into her acquaintance with Ian, her thoughts became occupied with him. Greyson was no longer the last thing she thought of before she went to sleep, and he wasn’t the first thing she thought about when she woke up.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

“Will you be able to forgive me?” she whispered into the dark and listened intently, hoping to get an answer.

Helen jumped and sat up in bed with a squeak as someone knocked at her door.

Her hand flew to her heart, and her heartbeat drummed violently against her palm. Her breaths were frantic as her mind stilled, not daring to think anything.