A colonels sinful dilemm.., p.12
A Colonel's Sinful Dilemma, page 12
After sending running messengers, Helena paced the drawing room waiting impatiently for her brother Oberon and Mr Eldridge to arrive. Papa had been there, but he soon snorted in frustration with her and disappeared, leaving her alone.
Time crawled, and she thought she might go mad with waiting.
Winters let Oberon in first, and Helena turned as he entered, clutching her hands together.
‘I say, Helena, what has happened?’ asked her eldest brother, a tall gentleman with receding golden hair. ‘You sent my Mrs Grey into a frightful state of alarm.’
Oberon himself showed signs of great agitation. His hair was mussed, and his overcoat, which he had not stopped to remove on arrival, was wrongly buttoned.
‘’Tis Lysander,’ Helena said.
Winters hovered, and Oberon noticed him and slid free of the coat. ‘What of him?’ His tone tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
‘I—I fear he has—’ Helena struggled to put her dread into words.
Oberon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Pray speak, Helena, for I suspect I know what you will say.’
Helena’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Obie, it is what you fear. He has fallen into dissolution once more.’
‘Ah, curse it,’ Oberon said.
‘That—that dratted Colonel Wrencrest has ruined everything,’ Helena said, dashing at the tears and swallowing the aching lump in her throat. ‘All was well until he arrived.’
‘Colonel Wrencrest is some relation to Miss Wrencrest, I presume?’
‘Her brother,’ Helena said.
‘And how has he ruined everything, as you claim?’
‘He learned of Lysander’s history, although I daresay the stories he heard were exaggerated, and he had Rose break the engagement.’
Oberon frowned. ‘And Lysander—where is he?’
‘That is precisely the problem,’ Helena said. ‘I do not know!’
‘Oh, really, Lena, are you his nursemaid, that must know his whereabouts at all times?’
‘But I tell you he is falling into vice.’
Oberon’s frown deepened. Helena could see his mind working, wishing to find some flaw in her reasoning. ‘And how are you in possession of such knowledge?’
‘Obie, he has taken a sauceboat,’ Helena confessed, her heart aching.
‘A sauceboat?’
‘A piece of the silver.’
Oberon’s face fell. ‘I see.’ He heaved a great sigh and walked to the mantel as if to admire the waxflower bouquet under glass that adorned it.
Helena watched him, willing him to say something—anything—to reassure her.
‘And what is it you hope I might do?’ he asked.
This was not a reassuring question.
‘Why, you must find him, certainly,’ she said.
Oberon met her eyes then, but his own were cold and shuttered. ‘Under no circumstances will I set about searching London for our profligate brother, Helena.’
The lady gasped. ‘Obie! You cannot be in earnest.’
‘Lysander has always been shockingly loose in the haft, and if you have surmised correctly that Lysander stole a sauceboat in order to finance a return to his old ways, I will have nothing more to do with him.’
‘Shockingly loose in the haft?’ Helena echoed faintly.
‘Yes, Lena. And you have always forgiven him too easily. The pair of you—one wonders at the bond you have—you are more his twin than Hermie ever was. Nevertheless, now it has all come to the only end anyone could have predicted,’ Oberon said.
‘Oberon, you must—how can you—oh, I beg you, do not condemn him so. He had made such a change, this last year, and with his engagement and the clerkship for Mr Warrick—’
‘Ah, yes, the benighted voyage to India!’ Oberon scoffed.
Helena pressed both hands to her mouth.
What can he mean by this?
As if he heard the question, Oberon said, ‘India is no place for the weak-willed, Helena. Lysander’s propensity for vice would have only led to his ruin there.’
You’re wrong, Helena thought, her heartache increasing.
Winters announced Mr Eldridge then.
‘Well, then, what’s the matter?’ he asked as he entered, tugging at his waistcoat nervously. Titania followed, her blue eyes conveying her alarm.
‘Lysander has fallen into vice once more,’ Oberon said, his face pinched.
Mr Eldridge blinked in surprise, but Titania recoiled and cast her eyes down in sorrow.
‘Helena wishes us to hunt him down and force him back to a life of virtue, but I have told her that is quite impossible. He has obstinance to ruin himself that will not be dissuaded. I leave him to it.’ With that, Oberon stormed from the drawing room.
‘Obie, I beg you—!’ Helena cried, but then cut herself off and turned instead to her sister. ‘Tania, we cannot stand idly by and allow Lysander to destroy himself.’
Titania shook her head, her expression unhappy. ‘How exceedingly disappointing,’ she murmured. ‘I had hoped he might put all of that dreadful business behind him.’
Helena began to pace again. ‘What can Obie mean by saying he has always been “shockingly loose in the haft”? Lysander was jilted by that deceitful minx Betsy Dartwood—he was heartbroken!’
‘Lysander has made a habit of getting into scrapes since he was but five years old, Lena,’ Titania said.
‘Scrapes, perhaps, but nothing with malice in it,’ Helena argued. She glared at Titania and then at Mr Eldridge who paled under her fierce look. ‘Who in this family has a heart half so good as Lysander’s? I ask you, who?’
Titania gave her pained expression and clasped Helena’s hand. ‘Dearest, we must bear this unhappy turn of events with grace. I beg you, calm yourself.’
‘With grace?’ Helena said incredulously. ‘Lysander is—he is the devil knows where—!’
Mr Eldridge made a choked noise, and Titania rolled her eyes.
‘And he shall harm himself irreparably,’ Helena pressed on. ‘We cannot stand by! We must intervene! Why does no one else see this?’
Titania squeezed Helena’s hand, giving it a little shake. ‘Because there is nothing we can do.’
‘Nothing?’ Helena breathed.
‘Yes, Lena, nothing. The gentlemen might hunt Ly down and drag him home, and then what? Lock him in his room? For how long? If he will destroy himself, what can be done to stop him?’
Helena stared at her, unwilling to hear her words. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, her stays too-tight, her breathing rapid.
They’ve all given him up for lost.
Well, I shan’t.
Never.
‘I am as troubled as you are, dearest,’ Titania said, looking Helena in the eye with an earnest expression. ‘This is all a deplorable disappointment. But there is nothing we can do.’ With that, she turned to her husband and said, ‘Let’s pay our respects to Papa and Mama and look in on Hermia, then be on our way.’
‘Indeed,’ Mr Eldridge said and gave her his arm.
Helena watched helplessly as they deserted her, leaving her alone, once again, in the drawing room.
What is to be done?
I cannot find him by myself. After the way things went last time, I should be courting disaster.
Her legs suddenly lost all strength, and she sank into an armchair.
‘Oh, Lysander, what am I to do?’ she murmured. ‘No one will help me find you.’
This is all Colonel Wrencrest’s fault.
I should like to give him a piece of my mind.
If Ly is lost now, whose fault is it but his? He should be the one to find him, in fact.
Helena froze.
There’s a thought.
And the more she entertained the thought, the more certain she became.
She knew who would help her find Lysander.
And woe be unto him if he refused.
***
When Addock let Miss Helena Grey in, Reginald glanced at the clock: ’twas seven, past polite visiting hours.
Am I to be hounded to death by every lady in my acquaintance?
Looking somewhat dishevelled, Miss Helena marched into the parlour followed by her dutiful maid, who, Reginald noticed with curiosity, was carrying a bag. Miss Helena’s hair was resisting its chignon, falling in too many curls about her face.
Her spencer was creased, and she wore no gloves. The sight of her thus gave him an urge to comfort her—to stroke her hair back into docility, to help her straighten the little jacket, to ask the whereabouts of the gloves. It was an impulse to show her tenderness, which quite baffled and unsettled him.
‘Lysander has disappeared,’ Miss Helena announced without preamble.
Has he? What a great shock.
Reginald had the wit to keep this observation to himself. ‘Indeed,’ he said rather than provoke her further.
‘I must locate him and bring him home,’ the lady said with a forcefulness that warned of the folly of arguing with her.
Ah. So here is the answer to the question of how Miss Helena came to frequent Baron Popett’s townhouse—she thinks herself her brother’s keeper.
Reginald held his tongue.
‘I insist that you accompany me, sir,’ she said with finality.
This was more than Reginald could countenance, and he scoffed loudly. ‘Have you given leave of your senses?’
‘No, I have not!’ the lady exploded in a most un-ladylike manner. She stalked over to him, her blue eyes gleaming as she glared at him openly.
He was entirely taken aback.
‘’Tis your fault he left,’ Miss Helena declared. ‘Your beastly invention has ruined everything.’ And at this, she burst into tears.
The Devil take it all; what am I to do now? he wondered, horrified.
The maid hurried to her lady’s side and provided her with a handkerchief, but Miss Helena did not cease weeping but instead redoubled it.
Reginald was at a loss. He took a tentative step closer and raised a hand as though to give her a pat on the shoulder, then thought better of it and stepped back again.
‘We were going to India!’ Miss Helena cried, her voice distorted with tears. ‘All would have been well! Lysander and Rose love each other, you great odious ape! And you—you listened to all that rot and believed it—I shall never forgive you—’
Am I to stand here being insulted in my own home? Reginald thought, and yet he could not bring himself to mount any sort of defence. By now, he had been upbraided so often by Miss Helena, his mother, and Rose herself that he could not help doubting his own wisdom. Still, if what Miss Helena said were true, the rake had run off and was engaged in the devil knew what vices even as they spoke. He had not misjudged him in the least.
‘... and so you must see that you are responsible, and ’tis you who must remedy the situation!’ Miss Helena was saying.
‘I see nothing of the sort,’ he managed at last.
Her face went very red then, and he thought she might stamp her foot, or perhaps fly at him as she had before. But in the next instant, all the fight seemed to go out of her. The colour drained from her face, and her shoulders slumped, and she turned away and took a step towards the door. It was dreadful to see, and he realized two things. The first was that he liked how fiery and unreasonable she was—it was madness, but it was the truth—and the second was that he would willingly follow her into any scandalous den of evil if only she would never look so defeated again.
And in her next breath, she made it even worse. A step from the door, she turned again, and meeting his eyes, clasped her hands before her in supplication and proceeded to beg.
‘Pray, Colonel, if you have any mercy in you,’ she said, her blue eyes large and limpid as she gazed at him in entreaty, ‘I cannot lose my brother thus. Even still, I cannot seek him out alone. It is too dangerous for a lady—pray, say you will accompany me. You are my last hope.’
His breath caught in his throat as he met her gaze, for never in his life had he longed to kiss a woman as much as he did at that moment.
‘Very well,’ he said. Hearing his own words gave him a disagreeable shock.
What have I done?
Am I never to be rid of these Greys?
However, the look on her face assuaged his discomfiture, for her eyes brightened, and some colour returned to her cheeks.
‘Truly?’ she said, her voice high and fragile.
Damn it all.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed without elaboration—for what more was there to say?
Miss Helena closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then releasing it, she fixed him with a look of such intensity that it was all he could do not to squirm.
‘Capital,’ she said. ‘I shall only be a few moments if you please. Wait here.’
What?
Mystified, Reginald watched her exit the parlour.
What in damnation have I got myself into now?
Chapter 12
Of course, Rose was very surprised to see Helena, when the latter knocked on her bedchamber door, and she opened it.
‘Helena, ’pon my soul, what are you doing here?’
Keene followed close on Helena’s heels as she came in. Standing aside, Rose watched with an air of helplessness. ‘Lysander has gone missing,’ Helena informed Rose, who gasped. ‘And I am determined to find him.’
‘Missing?’
As Helena commenced pulling her arms free of the spencer, only Keene’s practiced assistance prevented her from making a tear in her haste.
‘Yes,’ Helena said. ‘He is heartbroken, as I imagine you must be as well.’
Indeed, Rose’s eyes were near swollen shut with crying, and her nose was an unlovely shade of red.
‘And what is most unfortunate about Lysander, is that when he grieves, he makes ill-advised choices,’ Helena said.
She was free of the spencer now, and Keene began loosening the back of her dress.
‘Ill-advised choices?’ Rose murmured.
Helena turned to her and took her hands. ‘’Tis a truth you must reckon with, dear Rose, if you wish to someday marry my brother.’
Rose blinked at her, bewildered. ‘Reginald will never allow it,’ she said.
Releasing Rose’s hands, Helena allowed Keene to help her out of the dress and shook her head. ‘A pox on what he wants,’ she said.
Rose made a small choked noise and covered her mouth, but an instant later, a laugh escaped her. ‘I say, Helena, you have the most astounding spirit.’
‘He has made a terrible mull of everything,’ Helena said. ‘But I have convinced him to assist me in finding Lysander, and you shall see—I shall talk him round about the wedding, as well. You may count on it.’
Time crawled, and she thought she might go mad with waiting.
Winters let Oberon in first, and Helena turned as he entered, clutching her hands together.
‘I say, Helena, what has happened?’ asked her eldest brother, a tall gentleman with receding golden hair. ‘You sent my Mrs Grey into a frightful state of alarm.’
Oberon himself showed signs of great agitation. His hair was mussed, and his overcoat, which he had not stopped to remove on arrival, was wrongly buttoned.
‘’Tis Lysander,’ Helena said.
Winters hovered, and Oberon noticed him and slid free of the coat. ‘What of him?’ His tone tightened, and his eyes narrowed.
‘I—I fear he has—’ Helena struggled to put her dread into words.
Oberon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Pray speak, Helena, for I suspect I know what you will say.’
Helena’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, Obie, it is what you fear. He has fallen into dissolution once more.’
‘Ah, curse it,’ Oberon said.
‘That—that dratted Colonel Wrencrest has ruined everything,’ Helena said, dashing at the tears and swallowing the aching lump in her throat. ‘All was well until he arrived.’
‘Colonel Wrencrest is some relation to Miss Wrencrest, I presume?’
‘Her brother,’ Helena said.
‘And how has he ruined everything, as you claim?’
‘He learned of Lysander’s history, although I daresay the stories he heard were exaggerated, and he had Rose break the engagement.’
Oberon frowned. ‘And Lysander—where is he?’
‘That is precisely the problem,’ Helena said. ‘I do not know!’
‘Oh, really, Lena, are you his nursemaid, that must know his whereabouts at all times?’
‘But I tell you he is falling into vice.’
Oberon’s frown deepened. Helena could see his mind working, wishing to find some flaw in her reasoning. ‘And how are you in possession of such knowledge?’
‘Obie, he has taken a sauceboat,’ Helena confessed, her heart aching.
‘A sauceboat?’
‘A piece of the silver.’
Oberon’s face fell. ‘I see.’ He heaved a great sigh and walked to the mantel as if to admire the waxflower bouquet under glass that adorned it.
Helena watched him, willing him to say something—anything—to reassure her.
‘And what is it you hope I might do?’ he asked.
This was not a reassuring question.
‘Why, you must find him, certainly,’ she said.
Oberon met her eyes then, but his own were cold and shuttered. ‘Under no circumstances will I set about searching London for our profligate brother, Helena.’
The lady gasped. ‘Obie! You cannot be in earnest.’
‘Lysander has always been shockingly loose in the haft, and if you have surmised correctly that Lysander stole a sauceboat in order to finance a return to his old ways, I will have nothing more to do with him.’
‘Shockingly loose in the haft?’ Helena echoed faintly.
‘Yes, Lena. And you have always forgiven him too easily. The pair of you—one wonders at the bond you have—you are more his twin than Hermie ever was. Nevertheless, now it has all come to the only end anyone could have predicted,’ Oberon said.
‘Oberon, you must—how can you—oh, I beg you, do not condemn him so. He had made such a change, this last year, and with his engagement and the clerkship for Mr Warrick—’
‘Ah, yes, the benighted voyage to India!’ Oberon scoffed.
Helena pressed both hands to her mouth.
What can he mean by this?
As if he heard the question, Oberon said, ‘India is no place for the weak-willed, Helena. Lysander’s propensity for vice would have only led to his ruin there.’
You’re wrong, Helena thought, her heartache increasing.
Winters announced Mr Eldridge then.
‘Well, then, what’s the matter?’ he asked as he entered, tugging at his waistcoat nervously. Titania followed, her blue eyes conveying her alarm.
‘Lysander has fallen into vice once more,’ Oberon said, his face pinched.
Mr Eldridge blinked in surprise, but Titania recoiled and cast her eyes down in sorrow.
‘Helena wishes us to hunt him down and force him back to a life of virtue, but I have told her that is quite impossible. He has obstinance to ruin himself that will not be dissuaded. I leave him to it.’ With that, Oberon stormed from the drawing room.
‘Obie, I beg you—!’ Helena cried, but then cut herself off and turned instead to her sister. ‘Tania, we cannot stand idly by and allow Lysander to destroy himself.’
Titania shook her head, her expression unhappy. ‘How exceedingly disappointing,’ she murmured. ‘I had hoped he might put all of that dreadful business behind him.’
Helena began to pace again. ‘What can Obie mean by saying he has always been “shockingly loose in the haft”? Lysander was jilted by that deceitful minx Betsy Dartwood—he was heartbroken!’
‘Lysander has made a habit of getting into scrapes since he was but five years old, Lena,’ Titania said.
‘Scrapes, perhaps, but nothing with malice in it,’ Helena argued. She glared at Titania and then at Mr Eldridge who paled under her fierce look. ‘Who in this family has a heart half so good as Lysander’s? I ask you, who?’
Titania gave her pained expression and clasped Helena’s hand. ‘Dearest, we must bear this unhappy turn of events with grace. I beg you, calm yourself.’
‘With grace?’ Helena said incredulously. ‘Lysander is—he is the devil knows where—!’
Mr Eldridge made a choked noise, and Titania rolled her eyes.
‘And he shall harm himself irreparably,’ Helena pressed on. ‘We cannot stand by! We must intervene! Why does no one else see this?’
Titania squeezed Helena’s hand, giving it a little shake. ‘Because there is nothing we can do.’
‘Nothing?’ Helena breathed.
‘Yes, Lena, nothing. The gentlemen might hunt Ly down and drag him home, and then what? Lock him in his room? For how long? If he will destroy himself, what can be done to stop him?’
Helena stared at her, unwilling to hear her words. Her heart beat hard against her ribs, her stays too-tight, her breathing rapid.
They’ve all given him up for lost.
Well, I shan’t.
Never.
‘I am as troubled as you are, dearest,’ Titania said, looking Helena in the eye with an earnest expression. ‘This is all a deplorable disappointment. But there is nothing we can do.’ With that, she turned to her husband and said, ‘Let’s pay our respects to Papa and Mama and look in on Hermia, then be on our way.’
‘Indeed,’ Mr Eldridge said and gave her his arm.
Helena watched helplessly as they deserted her, leaving her alone, once again, in the drawing room.
What is to be done?
I cannot find him by myself. After the way things went last time, I should be courting disaster.
Her legs suddenly lost all strength, and she sank into an armchair.
‘Oh, Lysander, what am I to do?’ she murmured. ‘No one will help me find you.’
This is all Colonel Wrencrest’s fault.
I should like to give him a piece of my mind.
If Ly is lost now, whose fault is it but his? He should be the one to find him, in fact.
Helena froze.
There’s a thought.
And the more she entertained the thought, the more certain she became.
She knew who would help her find Lysander.
And woe be unto him if he refused.
***
When Addock let Miss Helena Grey in, Reginald glanced at the clock: ’twas seven, past polite visiting hours.
Am I to be hounded to death by every lady in my acquaintance?
Looking somewhat dishevelled, Miss Helena marched into the parlour followed by her dutiful maid, who, Reginald noticed with curiosity, was carrying a bag. Miss Helena’s hair was resisting its chignon, falling in too many curls about her face.
Her spencer was creased, and she wore no gloves. The sight of her thus gave him an urge to comfort her—to stroke her hair back into docility, to help her straighten the little jacket, to ask the whereabouts of the gloves. It was an impulse to show her tenderness, which quite baffled and unsettled him.
‘Lysander has disappeared,’ Miss Helena announced without preamble.
Has he? What a great shock.
Reginald had the wit to keep this observation to himself. ‘Indeed,’ he said rather than provoke her further.
‘I must locate him and bring him home,’ the lady said with a forcefulness that warned of the folly of arguing with her.
Ah. So here is the answer to the question of how Miss Helena came to frequent Baron Popett’s townhouse—she thinks herself her brother’s keeper.
Reginald held his tongue.
‘I insist that you accompany me, sir,’ she said with finality.
This was more than Reginald could countenance, and he scoffed loudly. ‘Have you given leave of your senses?’
‘No, I have not!’ the lady exploded in a most un-ladylike manner. She stalked over to him, her blue eyes gleaming as she glared at him openly.
He was entirely taken aback.
‘’Tis your fault he left,’ Miss Helena declared. ‘Your beastly invention has ruined everything.’ And at this, she burst into tears.
The Devil take it all; what am I to do now? he wondered, horrified.
The maid hurried to her lady’s side and provided her with a handkerchief, but Miss Helena did not cease weeping but instead redoubled it.
Reginald was at a loss. He took a tentative step closer and raised a hand as though to give her a pat on the shoulder, then thought better of it and stepped back again.
‘We were going to India!’ Miss Helena cried, her voice distorted with tears. ‘All would have been well! Lysander and Rose love each other, you great odious ape! And you—you listened to all that rot and believed it—I shall never forgive you—’
Am I to stand here being insulted in my own home? Reginald thought, and yet he could not bring himself to mount any sort of defence. By now, he had been upbraided so often by Miss Helena, his mother, and Rose herself that he could not help doubting his own wisdom. Still, if what Miss Helena said were true, the rake had run off and was engaged in the devil knew what vices even as they spoke. He had not misjudged him in the least.
‘... and so you must see that you are responsible, and ’tis you who must remedy the situation!’ Miss Helena was saying.
‘I see nothing of the sort,’ he managed at last.
Her face went very red then, and he thought she might stamp her foot, or perhaps fly at him as she had before. But in the next instant, all the fight seemed to go out of her. The colour drained from her face, and her shoulders slumped, and she turned away and took a step towards the door. It was dreadful to see, and he realized two things. The first was that he liked how fiery and unreasonable she was—it was madness, but it was the truth—and the second was that he would willingly follow her into any scandalous den of evil if only she would never look so defeated again.
And in her next breath, she made it even worse. A step from the door, she turned again, and meeting his eyes, clasped her hands before her in supplication and proceeded to beg.
‘Pray, Colonel, if you have any mercy in you,’ she said, her blue eyes large and limpid as she gazed at him in entreaty, ‘I cannot lose my brother thus. Even still, I cannot seek him out alone. It is too dangerous for a lady—pray, say you will accompany me. You are my last hope.’
His breath caught in his throat as he met her gaze, for never in his life had he longed to kiss a woman as much as he did at that moment.
‘Very well,’ he said. Hearing his own words gave him a disagreeable shock.
What have I done?
Am I never to be rid of these Greys?
However, the look on her face assuaged his discomfiture, for her eyes brightened, and some colour returned to her cheeks.
‘Truly?’ she said, her voice high and fragile.
Damn it all.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed without elaboration—for what more was there to say?
Miss Helena closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, then releasing it, she fixed him with a look of such intensity that it was all he could do not to squirm.
‘Capital,’ she said. ‘I shall only be a few moments if you please. Wait here.’
What?
Mystified, Reginald watched her exit the parlour.
What in damnation have I got myself into now?
Chapter 12
Of course, Rose was very surprised to see Helena, when the latter knocked on her bedchamber door, and she opened it.
‘Helena, ’pon my soul, what are you doing here?’
Keene followed close on Helena’s heels as she came in. Standing aside, Rose watched with an air of helplessness. ‘Lysander has gone missing,’ Helena informed Rose, who gasped. ‘And I am determined to find him.’
‘Missing?’
As Helena commenced pulling her arms free of the spencer, only Keene’s practiced assistance prevented her from making a tear in her haste.
‘Yes,’ Helena said. ‘He is heartbroken, as I imagine you must be as well.’
Indeed, Rose’s eyes were near swollen shut with crying, and her nose was an unlovely shade of red.
‘And what is most unfortunate about Lysander, is that when he grieves, he makes ill-advised choices,’ Helena said.
She was free of the spencer now, and Keene began loosening the back of her dress.
‘Ill-advised choices?’ Rose murmured.
Helena turned to her and took her hands. ‘’Tis a truth you must reckon with, dear Rose, if you wish to someday marry my brother.’
Rose blinked at her, bewildered. ‘Reginald will never allow it,’ she said.
Releasing Rose’s hands, Helena allowed Keene to help her out of the dress and shook her head. ‘A pox on what he wants,’ she said.
Rose made a small choked noise and covered her mouth, but an instant later, a laugh escaped her. ‘I say, Helena, you have the most astounding spirit.’
‘He has made a terrible mull of everything,’ Helena said. ‘But I have convinced him to assist me in finding Lysander, and you shall see—I shall talk him round about the wedding, as well. You may count on it.’
