Helena entered quietly. She had hoped to find the earl before Sir Edmund appeared, but the old baronet spotted her almost immediately. His eyes moved over her worn gloves and carefully repaired gown. "Miss Vale," he said in a voice loud enough for several people to hear. "How unexpected. Have you come to thank me for my patience?" He spoke as though she had been begging for his charity. Helena kept her hands folded. "I came to ask about the accounts of the widow's trust. My first letter seems to have been mislaid."
One of the younger gentlemen laughed. Sir Edmund's expression remained genial. "A tiresome old matter. Your father was given every opportunity to explain himself." Helena felt her heartbeat in her throat, but she resisted the impulse to speak quickly. "Then I trust you will be willing to explain why you are now charging my family for an expense entered under an entirely different name." At that, the gentleman beside Sir Edmund—Mr. Lucian Bell—turned his face away so abruptly that Helena noticed. Sir Edmund did not. "There you have it," he announced. "The young lady inherited her father's unfortunate habit of making accusations without evidence."
Lord Larchmere appeared at the top of the steps during this exchange. He was younger than Helena expected, perhaps thirty, with fair hair, a dark blue coat, and the grave manner of a man accustomed to listening before he spoke. His eyes passed from Sir Edmund to Helena and lingered on the folded paper in her hand. "What accusation?" he asked. Sir Edmund answered before she could. "Merely the old Vale business, Nathaniel. Miss Vale has mistaken an unpaid debt for a conspiracy. I was telling her that today is hardly the occasion for such unpleasantness."
"The occasion is of your choosing," Helena said to the earl. "My opportunity to speak appears to be of his." The earl did not seem pleased by this correction, yet he did not silence her. "If you have accounts to present, my steward can arrange an appointment." Sir Edmund nodded triumphantly. Helena had heard the same promise three times, and each had led back to the trustee who held the records. Before she could respond, a burst of laughter rose from the fencing table. One of the young men had picked up a foil and was imitating a clumsy novice. Sir Edmund turned the moment to his advantage. "We must return to civilized amusements. Your father was quite fond of steel himself, was he not, Miss Vale? Unhappily, he never learned when to put it away."
The words struck with a precision that left Helena momentarily unable to breathe. She saw her father standing in the orchard, holding out his hand after she fell, patiently waiting for her to find her balance again. She saw him by the fire, carefully adding