Fair Juno by Stephanie Laurens

have been forced to the truth—the whole truth. Thankfully, fate had spared her.
    Descending the stairs, she was conscious of anticipation still pulsing her veins despite the sure knowledge that she would not meet a pair of stormy grey eyes in her small drawing-room. Those eyes, and their warmth, had haunted her; the memory of his lips on hers lay, a jewel enshrined in her memories. But if he looked for her, he would learnher name. And then he would know. Her silly dreams could never come true.
    Startling eyes did indeed meet her when she entered her drawing-room, but they were emerald-green and belonged to Dorothea, Marchioness of Hazelmere.
    ‘Helen!’ Dorothea jumped to her feet, elegantly gowned as always, her face alight with a happiness so radiant that Helen’s breath caught in her throat.
    ‘Thea—what on earth are you doing here? I thought you’d be fixed at Hazelmere for months.’ Helen returned the younger woman’s warm embrace. They had become firm friends since Dorothea’s marriage to Hazelmere, just over a year ago. Helen’s connection with Hazelmere dated from her childhood; she was distantly connected with the Henrys and had spent many of her summers with Hazelmere’s younger sister in Surrey.
    Helen held Dorothea at arm’s length, conscious of a pang of dismal jealousy that she would never experience the joy that shone from Dorothea’s face. ‘How’s my godson?’ she asked, smiling determinedly.
    ‘Darcy’s fine.’ Dorothea smiled back, linking her arm in Helen’s. Together, they strolled through the open French windows and into the small courtyard.
    An ironwork seat with a padded cushion stood facing the bank of flowerbeds, the sun-warmed house wall at its back. As they sank on to the cushions, Dorothea explained, ‘I’veinstalled him on the second floor of Hazelmere House. Mytton doesn’t know how to react. As for Murgatroyd— he’s torn between pride and handing in his notice.’
    Helen grinned. Hazelmere’s butler and his valet were well-known to her. ‘But how did you convince Marc you were well enough to come to town? I was sure he would keep you in semi-permanent seclusion until Darcy was in leading strings, at the very least.’
    ‘Quite simple, really,’ explained Dorothea airily. ‘I merely pointed out that if I was well enough to share his bed I was certainly well enough to endure the rigours of the Season.’
    Helen’s laughter pealed forth. ‘Oh, gracious!’ she gasped, once she was able. ‘What I would have given to have been able to see his face.’
    ‘Yes,’ agreed Dorothea, emerald eyes twinkling. ‘It really was quite something.’ She turned to study Helen. ‘But enough of my managing husband. What’s this I hear of a disappearance?’
    With practised ease, Helen told her tale. Dorothea did not press her for the details she omitted, merely remarking at the end of the story, ‘Hazelmere hasn’t heard and I don’t see any reason to tell him.’ With a quick smile, she continued, ‘What I came here to do was invite you to dinner on Thursday. Just the family, those who are in town. It’s too early yet for anything formal and we’ll have enough of that once the Season begins. You will come, won’t you?’
    ‘Of course,’ said Helen. Then she grimaced. ‘Mind you, by then Hazelmere will have heard about my escapade. You may tell him from me that there’s no reason for him to concern himself over it and I won’t take kindly to being interrogated over the dinner-table.’
    Dorothea laughed and squeezed her hand. ‘I’ll make sure he behaves.’
    Reflecting that she had perfect confidence in her friend’s ability on that score, Helen smiled at the thought of the mighty Hazelmere being managed, on however small a scale, by his elegant wife.
    Dorothea rose. ‘I have to hurry for I’ve yet to catch Cecily.’
    Helen escorted her guest to the door.
    ‘Come early, if you can,’ Dorothea urged. ‘Darcy’s always so good with you.’ With an