Chapter Fifteen
When Helena entered the chamber a few moments after parting from Baldwin, she found Charity waiting. Her cousin glared at her and snapped, “And just where have you been?”
Helena tried to slow her suddenly racing heart and put on the brightest smile she could manage. “I woke early and thought I’d take a walk around the grounds. Good morning, Perdy.”
Charity’s maid lifted her gaze from her work fastening Charity’s gown and smiled slightly. Helena felt for her. Poor Perdy had to deal with Charity and her moods on a more regular basis than Helena did. Just the past few months had been more than enough for her.
“Did you?” Charity said, arching a brow. “By yourself?”
Helena shifted. Here was a tricky situation. She certainly wasn’t going to tell her cousin what had really happened this morning, but if she lied about seeing Baldwin and someone told Charity, it would only make things worse. Her cousin already seemed far too interested in the duke and how Helena interacted with him.
“I did bump into the Duke of Sheffield. He was out on a morning ride,” she admitted. “We walked back together.”
Charity tilted her head, and then she smiled. “And did you talk about me?”
“Yes,” Helena said with a tight smile of her own. Not untrue, though she doubted Charity would like the tone or the topic of that conversation. She still blushed when she thought of Baldwin defending her, of him choosing this lovely room for her.
“Good,” Charity said. “We could yet make use of your odd little friendship with him and his family.”
Helena came farther into the room and sat down near Charity. Perdy was just finishing the dressing, and soon her cousin would take a place at the dressing table to have her hair done.
“How so?” Helena asked.
“He’s very handsome,” Charity said. She was holding Helena’s gaze far too evenly now. “Don’t you think?”
Helena stopped breathing. She’d known Charity all her life—they’d grown up together—and was well aware of the little twists of Charity’s mouth and tones of her voice. Her cousin was digging for information. Trying to find out things that Helena didn’t want to share.
Charity obviously had suspicions. Ones that could be very dangerous considering the agreement Helena had just entered into with Baldwin.
She cleared her throat. “He is one of many handsome men at this gathering. The Duke of Tyndale is also quite well put together. And there are a few others with lesser titles who could not be called ugly.”
“I wasn’t asking about them, I was asking about him.” Charity turned her dressing table chair so it was facing Helena and then deposited herself into it, forcing Perdy to wedge herself between table and chair to fix Charity’s hair.
“He is handsome,” Helena said softly.
“I like him, I think,” Charity continued. “At least as much as anyone else. He approached me after he saw me dancing with Grifford. Maybe he was jealous of our connection.”
Helena tried to remain calm. “You have a connection with the Earl of Grifford? The man you once complained was so old?”
Charity shrugged. “He has grown on me. But he’s no duke. What would you think of my pursuing Sheffield?”
Everything in the room suddenly slowed to half time as Helena stared at her cousin. She knew Baldwin didn’t particularly like Charity. In any other circumstance that fact would have made her comfortable that this fancy of her cousin’s would lead to nothing.
But she also knew Baldwin’s situation. And her uncle Peter had made certain that Charity was in the best financial position of almost any girl out Season, either here in England or in Boston.
That dowry wasn’t something Baldwin could ignore. And so the idea sat in Helena’s stomach like a rock.
“I think it would be…” She cleared her throat around the lump there. “I’m certain it would be a beneficial match for you both.”
“I agree.” Charity sent a dark look at her maid. “Gracious, Perdy, you are tugging!”
Helena squeezed her eyes shut as Charity snapped at the poor maid. Her heart had never hurt more in her entire life. Thinking about Charity pursuing Baldwin and him being forced to consider it...
After what they’d just shared, she could barely stand the idea.
“Get my necklace, won’t you, Helena?” Charity said, motioning to the jewelry box on the table across the room.
Helena shook off her thoughts and went to do as she’d been told. Because that’s what she did. There was no other choice.
Baldwin drew a long breath, closed his eyes and tilted his head up toward the sun. For just a moment, a sense of peace came over him. It was the first time he’d been alone since his mother’s suggestion that they arrange this country party, and now he relished the moment. Soon enough he would have to go back inside. Soon enough he’d have to return his mind to debts and prospects, and he’d have to be near Helena and want her so much that it actually hurt.
But for now he was—
“Your Grace?”
He let out a small sigh before he opened his eyes and watched as one of his mother’s prospects came down the lane in the garden toward him. Lady Winifred, daughter of the Earl of Snodgrass. Fifteen thousand pounds and that damned racehorse. The facts rolled through his head, and he flinched at how mercenary he’d become. He looked a little closer. She was not an unattractive young lady. Dark hair, brown eyes, pretty face. She just wasn’t the person he wanted.
He rose from his seat on the bench and forced a smile. “Lady Winifred,” he said. “Come down for a walk, have you?”
She nodded and said, “Your mother and I were talking about my love for roses, so she sent me down to look at yours.”
“My mother,” he repeated slowly. He turned his gaze up toward the terrace above and saw the duchess standing there. He frowned at her heavy hand and at the way she waved at him before she had the decency to turn away and leave her machinations to play out.
“Yes,” Lady Winifred said. “She was quite insistent and I think she planned to go with me, but then she was distracted by a household matter.
“Of course she was. Well, I would be remiss if I did not offer to show you around the grounds myself, then.” He offered her an arm and she took it without hesitation. He tensed as she did so, hating how he felt…nothing for her. No spark, no interest. Just nothing.
Because she wasn’t Helena. Once again that thought pressed into his mind. He had to force it out again as they began to walk through the garden, his companion talking on and on about roses. Types. Colors. Scents. Origins.
Great God, this would be his life. Endless talk of roses as he desperately tried to make fifteen thousand pounds and a racehorse stretch to fill his empty coffers.
“Your Grace?” she said.
He blinked and glanced down at her. “My most sincere apologies, my lady. I was distracted and it was very rude of me. I think you were discussing the moss rose.”
“I was,” she admitted. “But I was about to say that your roses have all bloomed quite early this year.”
He looked around at the budding beauties his mother and grandmother had both loved so well. “I suppose it is a bit early, yes.”
Lady Winifred tilted her head. “It’s bad luck, you know. For them to bloom early.”
Baldwin stifled a laugh that held no humor. “Well, sometimes the only luck a man has is bad luck.”
Lady Winifred looked at him with a confused expression. Not curious, just uncertain. But before they could continue their talk, the Countess of Snodgrass came down the path and smiled at the pair. “There you are, Winifred. And hello, Your Grace.”
Baldwin nodded. “My lady.”
“Winifred, you’ve been roaming through the duke’s gardens for almost half an hour now. You do not want to get too tan. A gentleman doesn’t like a lady who is too sun-kissed—isn’t that right, Your Grace?”
Baldwin released Winifred, who returned to her mother’s side. He felt a great sense of relief when she did so. “I would not be able to speak for all gentlemen,” he offered.
Lady Snodgrass giggled and Winifred blushed. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. We’ll see you at supper tonight.”
The pair turned and walked away, leaving Baldwin to sag against the nearest tree in exhaustion.
“Good afternoon.”
He froze, his heart leaping as it had not when he was standing with the other young lady. He knew that voice. And he turned to find Helena standing a few feet away, watching him carefully.
“Helena,” he whispered, her name a prayer, a plea, a balm. “I’m so glad it’s you and not some other woman my mother is marching down from the main house for me.”
Helena shifted slightly. “Yes, I saw you with Lady Winifred. She is one of the…options then?”
Baldwin stared up at the house where the young woman and her mother had gone. “Yes,” he said softly. “She is, I suppose.”
“Well, she’s pretty,” Helena offered, her tone very careful.
He turned on her with a grin. “Are you now playing my matchmaker?”
She did not return the smile. “I think that would be too difficult.”
He nodded. “Yes. All of this is…difficult.”
“For both of us, I would imagine. You didn’t like her at all?”
Baldwin shrugged. “It isn’t about liking or not liking. She’s a nice enough young woman. I just don’t feel…anything when I’m with her.”
Helena swallowed hard. “I see.”
“Not like when I’m with you,” he murmured, and moved toward her a step.
She caught her breath and he saw her pupils dilate with desire. He loved to see that blossom in her, rather like the flowers Lady Winifred had been going on and on about.
“We’re so close to the house,” Helena whispered. “Anyone could see.”
“A valid point,” he said, and offered her an arm. “Walk with me? I’d much prefer your company.”
She looked like she would argue. Probably make a point that what they were doing was dangerous and wrong and not conducive to acceptance of the future either of them would soon face.
Instead, she sighed and said, “Of course. You know I couldn’t say no.”
She took his arm, and this time there was plenty for him to feel. Warmth and pleasure, desire and desperation. He was aware of every part of her that pressed to him, of the feel of each finger that curled into the crook of his elbow. He felt it all and he reveled in it.
“So what did you talk about?” she asked.
He glanced down at her as they began to walk farther into the garden, farther away from the house and whatever prying eyes there might see. “You really want to know?”
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Part of me does want to know. Part of me doesn’t. All of me is jealous and I hate myself for it.”
He shook his head. “You needn’t be jealous. Lady Winifred is quite a fan of flowers and all I heard about was roses, roses, roses for half an hour.”
She glanced up at him. “That’s all she could think of to say to you?”
“You sound incredulous. I may just bring out the dullest of subjects in people,” he said with a laugh that lightened everything about his mood.
He only felt that way with her, it seemed.
She smiled. “You may at that. I wouldn’t have picked that subject to talk to you about.”
“What subject would you have chosen?” he asked, and guided her into the covered gazebo.
She looked around with a blush, and he could see her mind turning. Working out the same problem he’d been pondering. Would they be safe enough here for a kiss? Nothing more, of course, there was too much danger. But could he kiss her?
She bit her lip as she released his arm and backed away. “My cousin told me she plans to pursue you.”
All of Baldwin’s happy, playful thoughts faded from his mind and he stared at Helena in horror. “Charity?”
“Yes, she is my only cousin who could pursue you, I think, since all the others are back in America,” she said, turning away to pace the gazebo. “She told me this morning after I returned from—from when you…”
She didn’t look at him, but placed both hands on the half wall of the gazebo and leaned there like the weight of the world was on her shoulders.
“I see,” he murmured. “You know I don’t want her.”
“You don’t want any of them,” Helena said, glancing at him. “But we both know the danger. Charity has a huge dowry. It may even be bigger than everyone is whispering about. I recognize you’d have to consider it.”
His stomach turned. “Hear me, Helena. I could not consider your cousin, not if she had a hundred thousand pounds, or a million.”
High color touched her cheeks and she smiled slightly. “Don’t be silly. I would marry her for a million pounds.”
He recognized what she was doing, how she was trying to diffuse the situation through humor. And it worked. He smiled despite himself and reached out to take her hand.
“Let’s not talk about her,” he said. “I have such little time with you, I don’t want to waste it talking about Charity or Lady Winifred or roses.”
“Then you choose the topic, since you’ve suffered so today,” she said, another teasing smile tilting her lips.
Lips he wanted to kiss so very desperately. Only a kiss would lead to other things right now.
So instead, he guided her so they could sit together on the bench in the gazebo’s center. “Tell me about your friends at home.”
He had expected her to brighten at that topic, but instead her body went stiff next to his and her jaw tightened.
“I’m sorry,” he said, holding her hand a little tighter. “I did not mean to find a painful subject for you.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “The truth of my ruination came out amongst my friends. I had confided in my closest friend, needing someone to talk to. Instead, she told the rest and they…they turned away from me. The scandal grew, its facts twisted to be even worse and…well, I wouldn’t want to return to Boston, I don’t think.”
Baldwin shook his head slowly, filled with disbelief. “Those do not sound like friends,” he growled. “I cannot imagine my own set of friends not standing by my side.”
“Is that why you lie to them about your situation?” she asked, gently but pointedly.
He stared at her. “A fair argument,” he said. “And not one we need to hash over again. But Helena, please know that the friendships you’re forging with Emma, Meg, Charlotte and Adelaide, they are far truer. A better group of women I have never known in my life.”
Helena shifted. “I thought my own friends would see me through, too. I don’t want the duchesses to know the truth.”
There was a hint of desperation to her tone. A lilt of terror and sadness and grief that twisted Baldwin’s gut. He could no longer hold himself back. He cupped her chin, leaned in and brushed his lips over hers.
She made a soft little sound of surrender in her throat that drove him mad, but he didn’t deepen the kiss or demand more from her. This wasn’t about possession or desire. It was about comfort. Support. And emotions he refused to name because they could come to nothing.
He drew back and held her gaze evenly. “I will not tell your secret, Helena. I would never betray you like that. But I do want to say that I promise you that your new friends would never turn on you.”
“But they wouldn’t understand,” she whispered.
“Adelaide and Emma would,” he said softly. “Both of them narrowly escaped the same fate you experienced.”
Her eyes widened. “Adelaide and Emma?” she repeated.
“Attacked by the same man, at different times,” he said, his jaw tightening as he thought of those stories James and Graham had told. At the time he’d been angry enough, but now he was enraged. Now he could picture what Helena had endured, and it shattered his heart.
“The same man,” she said, her eyes widening with terror.
“He’s dead now,” he reassured her. “I’m only trying to say that what happened to them was not their fault. And I know they would understand what you went through if you chose to tell them the truth.”
She sighed heavily and stared off into the garden, though it was with distant eyes that didn’t seem to truly see. “I’ll think about it, Baldwin. I will. It might be…nice to have friends to confide in who understood.”
“You’ve been dealing with this on your own for so long,” he encouraged. “I hope you will consider it.”
She looked around and then briefly rested her head against his shoulder. Warmth spread through his whole body, and he wrapped his arms around her as she sagged against him. She trusted him to be her strength in that moment, and his body swelled with pride…and a desire to protect her for the rest of her life.
Only he couldn’t. And she seemed to recall that at the same time he did, for she sat up and smiled at him. It was a shaky expression, not entirely believable.
“Now we should go back,” she said. “Charity was taking a nap, but she’ll wake soon and I will have duties to perform for her.”
He nodded and stood to offer her his arm a second time. As she took it and he guided her back into the garden, he said, “The good thing is that now I can tell you facts about every rose that ever existed as we make our way back to the house.”
She laughed, a full belly laugh that seemed to jolt him in an electric way. “I cannot wait, Your Grace. One can never know too much about roses, I’ve heard.”
“Not true,” he teased. “By the time I’m done, you will modify that statement. Now, let us consider the centifolia…”