A Reputation Reclaimed

Chapter Sixteen

The hours dragged like days. Though it was well past noon, Helena had no interest in leaving her bed. She hadn't even changed out of her ballgown, her hair a mess atop her head. The tears had stopped, leaving only a throbbing in her forehead and a heavy, numbing misery.

She shifted restlessly in bed, pushing the blankets aside until they formed a long shape beside her—Lowen's preferred side, closest to the door. Her chin wobbled at the sight.

There was no chance she could move about this home as she once did. The silence would be unbearable. Seeing Lowen every day, only to be pushed away, would break her heart over and over.

Helena sat up, feeling the weight of a decision marked by fragile uncertainty. It would be better to leave, to seek refuge in her old home in Lancashire, where at least she wouldn't face constant reminders of her husband—save for his child. Her child as well. Perhaps she would find solace there, with a shorter journey and far better company.

Thomasin would be upset, but Helena would write to her often. Besides, she was too young to understand why Helena had to leave, too young to grasp the painful distance between herself and Lowen. But this separation, this sudden departure, was for the best. Thomasin could stay in the home she knew, protected from the animosity between her and Lowen. With renewed determination, Helena dressed and packed a trunk, locking both doors to her room as she did so.

Soon, Lowen would depart for his duties in Parliament, or so she hoped, and be gone for a few hours. In that time, she would say her goodbyes to Thomasin—and leave.

The sound of a carriage rumbling down the drive marked Lowen's departure. With shaky urgency, Helena ordered the spare carriage to be brought around for herself, then knocked on Thomasin's door.

The poor girl was still resting in bed, worn out from dancing all night at the ball.

"Helena, what is it?" Thomasin murmured, propping herself up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Helena hesitated, the words suddenly difficult to say. "I—I've come to say goodbye."

Thomasin blinked in confusion. "Pardon?"

"I'm leaving London," she explained quietly, carefully settling onto the edge of the bed. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Leaving London? But why? Why not wait for Lowen and me? We're not due to leave for another sennight."

"I know, but I'm traveling to Lancashire," Helena replied, though she hadn't thought of her explanation—or rather, her lie—before entering Thomasin's room. "I would like to spend a little time with my family, that's all."

"But we're your family too," Thomasin said, frowning as she threw herself back onto the pillows. "This is about Lowen, isn't it?"

Unwilling to speak ill of him to his younger sister, Helena merely shrugged. "It's more about me, but not to worry. I shall rejoin you in Cornwall." She just wasn't sure when.

"What's the matter?"

At the question, spoken so kindly by a girl with the same silver-moon eyes as Lowen, Helena felt a vice tighten around her heart.

"Nothing's the matter," she lied with a smile. "I'll see you again in Cornwall."

"It better be sooner rather than later."

Helena nodded and leaned in to embrace Thomasin, trying not to dwell on Lowen's reaction once he discovered she was gone. He would be angry, of course—perhaps a little concerned, but only slightly. At least she wasn't traveling alone. Her first stop was Bloomsbury, to her parents' home, though not to see her mother and father.