‘Shall we reserve that sofa?’ Nicholas Bradwell asked, gesturing towards one that was still unoccupied. ‘I shall sit with you and give up my seat when your mama comes.’
‘If you wish, sir,’ Helene said and glanced round, feeling uncomfortable. He had promised to introduce her, but now seemed bent on reserving her company to himself. She did not mind it for he was not unattractive and she felt at home with him. He reminded her of her uncle’s friends, gentlemen who had treated her kindly in the past. ‘Though if older ladies are standing, I should perhaps give up my seat.’
‘I dare say some of the gentlemen will repair to the card room when the music begins,’ Nicholas Bradwell told her with a smile. ‘I myself came for the music. We have a fine tenor to entertain us this evening. He is Italian, you know, and I think his voice one of the best I have heard. However, many of the younger gentlemen will no doubt find their way to the tables before long. Some of them have no ear.’
‘Oh…’ Helene was not sure what to say. Her cheeks had heated slightly because she had noticed two gentlemen enter the salon together—and one of them was Lord Coleridge. ‘I thought everyone would wish to hear Signor Manzini…’ She drew her breath in as she saw that Lord Coleridge was walking towards them. She looked down at her lap, her hands clasped as he bowed before them.
‘Miss Henderson, I am delighted to see you this evening. Bradwell—good to see you here, sir. I heard that you had been unwell.’
Helene sensed the tension in the gentleman beside her. She had a feeling that he resented the interruption and risked a glance at him. A tiny pulse was beating at his temple.
‘It was a mere chill,’ Nicholas Bradwell replied. ‘I may call on you in a day or so to settle the little matter between us.’
‘Whenever you wish, there is no need for haste, sir,’ Max said and smiled at Helene. ‘I hope you suffered no ill effects of your experience the other day, Miss Henderson. I have to tell you that Jemmy is doing very well with his charge, though we have not as yet found Jezra a new home.’
‘Jezra?’ Helene’s gaze flew to his face. She saw the laughter lurking in his eyes. ‘You have given that poor creature a name? Do you expect him to recover? I know that you were uncertain of it.’
‘I believe Jezra is tougher than we all imagined,’ Max told her. ‘He is gaining weight and I am reliably informed that with the proper treatment his appearance will improve—though whether my credit will survive his arrival I do not know.’
‘Yes, I did hear that you had a donkey in your stable,’ Nicholas Bradwell said, a smirk on his lips. ‘Not quite in your style, Coleridge?’
‘Oh, the creature grows on one, you know,’ Max replied carelessly. ‘I dare say it might do to pull the children of my head groom in a cart, in the country, you know—once it has recovered its strength, of course.’
‘A children’s pet,’ Helene nodded, her expression thoughtful. ‘It is the very thing, sir. You are good to consider it.’
‘It was a matter of finding somewhere for Jezra to go before he quite destroys my reputation,’ Max replied in a casual manner. ‘Jemmy told me that he considered leaving me for Lord Carrington’s employ, but he considers that I am fractionally the better whip and has decided to give me another chance. So I must count myself fortunate…’
‘That tiger of yours is a deal too free in his manners,’ Nicholas Bradwell said sourly. ‘If a stable lad spoke to me in that way, I should instantly dismiss him.’
‘Should you, Bradwell?’ Max arched his brow. He was very much the aristocrat in that moment, almost arrogant, his expression unreadable. ‘I must advise him not to offer his services to you should he decide that I am beneath his touch, which he may yet do. I confess that I should be devastated should he take himself off.’
‘You are a wit, sir.’ Bradwell glared at him. ‘Forgive me if I do not see merit in such levity.’ He glanced at Helene, his mouth pulled into a grim smile. ‘You must excuse me for a moment, Miss Henderson. I have seen someone I must speak to.’
‘Oh, dear…’ Max glanced after him, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. ‘I fear I have upset that gentleman. I am sorry to have lost you your admirer, Miss Henderson.’
‘Do not be ridiculous, sir! I have only just met Mr Bradwell. I assure you that he is not my admirer.’
‘But he will undoubtedly become so,’ Max said and nodded. ‘I believe you have made a conquest—the first of many, no doubt.’
‘I doubt it very much, sir.’ Helene shook her head at him. ‘Please, make me no empty compliments, for I do not care for them. I know you were funning just now, but pray tell me why you called that creature Jezra?’
‘Jemmy said he should be called Jezebel, for his temperament is uncertain to say the least—sly and devilish, my groom described him as. I explained that Jezebel was a female, and so we settled on Jezra. I hope the name meets with your approval?’
‘My approval is not necessary, but I find it apt,’ Helene said. His humour was infectious, though she did wish that he might be serious for a moment. ‘Shall you truly send Jezra to the country? I thought you might give the beast to someone.’
‘I could not be certain the poor beast would not be beaten and starved again,’ Max told her. His eyes seemed to be warm and approving as they surveyed her. ‘Having given Jezra a taste of what life can be like when there is a warm stable and food, I do not think it fair to abandon him. Besides, I think that would have earned me your disapproval, Miss Henderson.’
‘I should have been sad had the creature gone to a cruel master, for I cannot abide cruelty,’ Helene told him. ‘But I have no right to approve or disapprove of what you do, sir.’
‘Do you not?’ Max looked thoughtful. ‘Be that as it may, I would rather have your good opinion—’ He broke off as her mother came up to them. ‘I am remiss. I have not introduced Toby to you, Miss Henderson—Toby Sinclair, Miss Helene Henderson.’ He smiled at the older lady as the two exchanged greetings. ‘Ma’am, we met earlier when we arrived. Pray take your seat. Toby and I are on our way to the card room. Please excuse us.’
Mrs Henderson sat down as he walked away. She frowned at her daughter. ‘I suppose Mr Bradwell introduced you. Lord Coleridge is a pleasant enough gentleman, but above our touch, Helene. I heard that he may be looking for a wife, but I dare say he will look higher. Someone said that he has been paying attention to Miss Fitzherbert. She is an heiress of some note, though not present this evening. I would not advise you to think of that gentleman as a husband, Helene. Remember my experiences. I should not wish you to be slighted by his family as I was by your papa’s.’
‘Mama! I was not setting my cap at him,’ Helene said and blushed. ‘We were merely talking. Besides, you know that I would never forget the way you were treated.’
‘You seemed almost on intimate terms with him,’ her mother remarked. ‘I have seldom seen you look so animated in company, Helene. I dare say he would be a good catch if you could get him, but I think we must set our sights lower, my love. Mr Bradwell is of far less consequence, but I believe him to be quite warm—not an old name and fortune like Coleridge, of course. Mr Bradwell was once married, I am told, but his wife unfortunately died of a fever without giving him an heir. I feel certain that he must be looking to settle his nursery, for he is past forty. He would be a good match for you, my love.’
‘Mama, please do not,’ Helene begged, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. ‘Supposing someone were to hear? I am very certain Mr Bradwell has no such notion, at least as far as I am concerned.’
‘Well, he seemed taken,’ her mother said. ‘Not that there is any hurry, for this is your first evening affair…and now we should be silent for the music is about to begin.’
Helene was tempted to remind her that she had done most of the talking, but she