A Reputation Reclaimed

Chapter Two

Ignoring the curious stares from the society matrons, Helena accepted Mr. Elias Stockwell as a dance partner for the third time, wrapping her small gloved hand around his large one and happily allowing him to guide her out to the dance floor.

As the other couples assembled to complete the set, Elias leaned forward piercing her with his mismatched eyes. "My lady, how did I b-become so lucky to have you as my partner again?"

Helena liked many things about the young Mr. Stockwell, his manners, his easy nature, and especially his eyes. One brown, one blue. Strangely, she even liked his occasional stutter though once he found comfort with someone, the stutter lessened.

"It is because you asked, Mr. Stockwell," She said with a grin.

Having come to know him over the months, Helena had found a genuine friend within the thrush of haughty aristocrats though perhaps that was because Elias was not an aristocrat himself. An upstart, that is what she had heard whispered so scathingly whenever the Stockwell family entered a room of their peers. It was no concern of hers how the Stockwell's amassed such great wealth, the usually shy Elias treated her with kindness and unlike many of the men that had come to pay their respects to the Hargreaves twins, he actually knew how to tell her apart from Felicity.

He replied with his usual effortless manners. "Then I am lucky still that you did not decline."

The melodious hum of violins signaled the start of the dance and the lead couple began their movements.

"How could I decline when you're a wonderful dancer," Helena peaked around the woman standing to her left, awaiting their turn to begin.

"I'm only as good as my partner," Elias offered, slightly tapping his foot in rhythm.

Forgetting herself, Helena snorted. "Did you not feel me crush your toes during the last dance?"

The woman to her left gave her a side look before smiling back at her partner who had not reacted to the offending noise.

"Hardly felt a th-thing."

Helena laughed, prompting some party goers to turn their heads in her direction. Mrs. Margaret Hargreaves, Helena's mother, who sat with a cluster of other married women thankfully did not notice, staying engrossed with whatever conversation she was having.

"You were supposed to deny that I did so!" She chided playfully.

"It was meant to compliment your tiny feet," At this, Helena could not help to laugh again, this time softer.

It was ill-advised to express oneself so openly, but with Elias, there was no place for rigidness. This was the very reason she had agreed to dance with him once more, even though it was well known that such a thing was an open invitation for gossip and assumptions that he was courting her. Elias was pleasant to look at and young, only twenty-three, yet Helena thought something was rather wrong with her, for whenever she was with him, there was no hint of ardor. No pulse of desire when he touched his hand to hers. No heat burned between them when their eyes met across the room. No rapid heartbeat from nerves when she saw him approaching.

Surely there must be something wrong? By all accounts, Mr. Elias Stockwell should be perfect for her but he simply felt like another brother.

As the lead lady worked her way down the set, prompting the next couple to start dancing Helena became aware of a dark shape stirring in the background.

The Duke of Carrivick inspected his surroundings with natural aloofness, while other men partook in festivities and flirtations, the lone duke stood in the outskirts as if hiding. Now confined to closer quarters Helena observed him between the gaps of the men lined before her. Carrivick's ebony hair was freshly cropped and shorn close his head, not at all in fashion but she couldn't imagine he much cared to spiral perfect curls over his forehead, too superfluous for someone like him. His attire still impeccable though bland, a dark blue coat and grey waistcoat were rather simplistic with nary a decorative pin or pattern. It struck her that perhaps he wished not to draw attention to himself. He failed, of course, he was a glaring contrast in a sea of bright textiles and glittering jewels.