“Forgive me, Lady Prestwick. What I meant to say is I had hoped for a proper introduction when I spotted you from afar this evening.”
Theatre patrons began filtering through the rotunda returning to their seats.
“We are blocking the way, my lady.”
“Oh!” Helena backed up several steps to allow others to pass. Lord Thorne flashed another perfect smile and bid her and her companions a good evening before sauntering away from the stairs, going against the flow of traffic. Helena turned to watch until he disappeared from sight.
Once he was gone, she was faced with Olive’s frown. “Do be careful of the baron. He is a scoundrel of the first order.”
The duchess chuckled and linked arms with her friend. “Allow the girl to have a bit of fun.”
Olive sniffed, clearly not a supporter of fun. “Do not listen to her, Helena.” She leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Unless you wish to be added to his list of conquests.”
Helena’s eyebrows shot up as her stomach pitched. Despite the tantalizing images that came to mind of becoming Lord Thorne’s conquest, she needed to keep her distance. Maintaining a sterling reputation was important if she had any hope of bringing her youngest sister into Edinburgh Society. Gossip had a way of traveling even long distances. She banished the annoying voice inside her head telling her she should stay out of the rookery if she was worried for her reputation. Laying eyes on her sisters again outweighed the risks. Besides, she had no intentions of anyone important discovering her in Whitechapel.
***
Damn!
Sebastian wasn’t any closer to being certain Lady Prestwick was the Whitechapel Angel than he’d been before his sister’s observation about her perfume. He had thought he would be able to tell if she was his rescuer if he had a chance to really study her face and listen to her speak, but he still didn’t know. She could have been the woman from that night, but then again, she may be nothing more than she appeared.
She was a pretty little thing. He hated to think she was frequenting the streets of Whitechapel and endangering herself. If she was the woman who had helped him, she was too sweet to be in any trouble. He’d seen her kindness with his sister. He might have even been the recipient of that kindness the night he was set upon.
He felt more unsettled than he’d been that afternoon. Seeing her again had only stirred up more questions. This was the reason he was lurking outside the theatre waiting for the performance to end instead of headed to the Den of Iniquity as planned.
Lord Prestwick hadn’t kept a house in Mayfair, which meant his widow was either staying with relatives or she had let a town house for the Season. If she were engaged in clandestine activities, staying with Lord and Lady Eldridge would pose problems. She would need a place of her own unless she wanted to explain her late-night excursions.
The rub of it was Sebastian couldn’t imagine any lady being so harebrained as to risk her reputation—Hell, her life—by stepping one foot in Whitechapel. Was she acting out of a misguided sense of charity? Reports of the angel’s generosity made it seem a more likely scenario than anything else he’d envisioned. Regardless of her intentions, she would get herself killed if she kept this up, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not if she had saved his life.
Perhaps following her this evening would put the matter to rest. Eve did have a tendency to allow her imagination to run wild, and he was probably a fool to entertain her silly notions. Still, a niggling at the back of his mind wouldn’t go away. There was something not quite right about the Widow Prestwick.
As ladies and gentlemen began spilling from the theatre, carriages lined up to collect their owners. He kept a lookout for Lady Prestwick’s green gown; his pulse jumped as he recalled how the silk creation teased with a peek of her modest décolletage. She wasn’t as well-endowed as many ladies of his acquaintance, but she was soft and round enough to make for a pleasing bed partner.
He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled slowly. Damn, he needed a good tup. He seemed incapable of thinking on anything else since his encounter with the lady earlier.