Chapter Eighteen
Baldwin stared at Helena, and she could see he was surprised that she hadn’t launched herself into his arms and declared him her hero. Perhaps part of her wanted to do that. There was a moment when her bully of an uncle had actually looked afraid, and there was no denying that she had enjoyed that far more than she should have.
But it didn’t change the facts of the situation she found herself in. And that moment of pleasure, just like all the moments of pleasure she’d stolen lately, would have dire consequences in the end.
Baldwin’s jaw set as he marched across the room and gently shut the door, giving them privacy that they ought not have. And yet she had no energy left to argue that fact.
“He attacked you, Helena. You could not truly expect me to stand by and allow it.”
She threw up her hands. “Why not? As he said, it was a family quarrel.”
His hands moved to his hips and the same stern and angry expression he’d had earlier returned to his handsome face. “Well, then I shall respond to you the same way I did to him. He was berating you in my home, under my roof. I would intervene for any guest who was treated in such a manner.”
He edged closer, and suddenly she was very aware of him. Very aware of the look in his eyes. The one that said he wanted to touch her.
“Baldwin,” she whispered.
He ignored the warning in her tone. “And the answer I did not give to him but will to you is that I certainly would not stand by while you were berated. You, Helena, a woman I know intimately. A woman I care for. A woman who is worth ten Peter Shephards.”
She shook her head. “If I were worth ten Peter Shephards, we would be having a different conversation,” she whispered. “But I’m not. And while I appreciate your motives, you must see that confronting him could very well make it worse for me. I know it will. And he might even hurt you. He all but outwardly threatened you.”
He shook his head, and then he reached out and caught her arms, drawing her forward, until she was pressed against him, staring up at him. His body heat wrapped around her, his muscles supported her, and he became the only thing that mattered in this room. In this world.
“Has no one ever stood up for you?” he asked, his voice cracking.
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked in vain to try to clear them. She had no idea what to say to him. How to make him understand. How to make him see that what he was doing was fruitless.
Finally she choked out, “I’m not yours.”
His expression darkened, filled with a pain she didn’t want to analyze. She thought he might pull away, but instead he bent his head and suddenly his lips were on hers.
She had no ability to resist when he touched her. Reason departed, prudence did not exist. All that mattered was how sweetly he kissed her—and then not as sweetly, and then not sweetly at all. Passion rose between them and she lost herself in it, letting it wash away everything else she had felt in the past hour.
He tugged her closer, backing her against the nearest wall, dragging his mouth away from hers, to her neck as he pushed against her with animal drive and undeniable desire. She wanted him so much, consequences be damned. Her body screamed at her to open to him, to surrender to him. To give and give and give until he overwhelmed her with pleasure that made the future seem bright.
Perhaps she would have at that. Perhaps he would have lost himself and she would have given him the path to find her. But before things could go that far the door beside them opened, and before they could part from the compromised position they were in, the Duke of Tyndale strode in.
“Baldwin, Charlotte told me that—”
Helena shoved at Baldwin’s chest with all her might and staggered away from him, but she felt Tyndale’s gaze on her and her cheeks flamed with humiliated fire as she did everything she could not to look at him.
“I’m so sorry,” Tyndale said, having the decency, at least, to glance away. “I did not realize you were here, Miss Monroe.”
She shook her head and moved around Baldwin toward the door. “I must go. I must go anyway.”
She tripped on the edge of the carpet in her haste, and Matthew caught her elbow and gently steadied her. “Miss Monroe—”
“Helena—” Baldwin said at the same time.
She waved her hand. “Please don’t. Please don’t!”
Then she ran from the room, her body shaking and her eyes filling with tears as the ramifications of everything that had happened in that room filled her with heartbreak and fear.
“Well timed,” Baldwin snapped at Matthew as he watched Helena flee the room like the hounds of hell itself were on her heels. The expression on her face was burned into his mind: a combination of humiliation and heartbreak, desire and regret. He had caused her all this pain and he hated himself for it.
Matthew stared at him wordlessly and then shut the door. He leaned back against it, arms folded, and said, “This is enough. Tell me what the hell is going on, Baldwin. You and Helena are obviously…involved.”
“Obviously,” Baldwin snorted as he strode over to the sideboard and poured himself a tall glass of scotch. Matthew waved off when he offered him the same. “I’d be stupid to deny it when you walked in on us in such an entanglement.”
There was a sudden flash of hope on Matthew’s face as he pushed off the door and took a step toward Baldwin. “Does this mean you’ve chosen your bride?”
Baldwin took a long swig of the liquor and shook his head. “No,” he whispered.
Tyndale’s expression grew hard and dark. “I would expect this kind of behavior out of…Robert, perhaps. But you? She’s a lady, Baldwin! How dare you make sport of her virtue?”
Baldwin slammed the drink down. “First, don’t compare me to Roseford. You know how I feel about his whoring.”
“I do, you make it clear that you don’t approve of how he drowns himself in sex. But it sounds like you aren’t far behind.”
Baldwin shook his head. “I’m not making fucking sport of her, I assure you. If I had any other choice, I would—” He cut himself off because if he said it out loud, he’d buckle beneath it.
Tyndale stared at him. “You can’t marry her.”
Baldwin paced away. “No.”
“Why? And don’t fucking change the subject or lie to me. I’ve had enough of it.”
Baldwin pivoted. He and Matthew and Ewan had all been very close as boys. The cousins had accepted him like their long-lost brother, and he’d counted on them so many times during the years, outside of their relationship in their club.
And now he looked at Matthew and all he wanted to do was confess. The desire pulsed up inside of him, hard to ignore thanks to the raw emotion that snapped through him.
“Please,” Matthew said, softer and gentler. “Let me help you.”
Baldwin bent his head. There was no denying this anymore. He had to tell Matthew the truth. And so…he did.
The words poured from him, an explanation of bad debts and worse decisions, of his father’s failings and his own. Of the missing parts of his ledger, the debts that had been purchased behind his back and the fear that accompanied all those awful facts.
He talked for half an hour and Matthew said nothing. He just stared, wide-eyed, until Baldwin collapsed into the nearest chair, spent from confession and heavy with fear at what his friend’s reaction would be.
“And now you know it all.”
Matthew got up and poured the drink he had refused at the beginning. He drank half of it before he said, “Am I the only one?”
Baldwin cleared his throat. “No. She knows.”
“She.” Matthew arched a brow. “Helena.”
Baldwin nodded slowly. “I had to…explain why I couldn’t pursue her.”
Matthew shut his eyes. “I see. And what did she say?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “She’s so bloody accustomed to being treated no better than a dog that she accepted it. She claims to understand it. It’s even how we ended up in the position that I would be kissing her in the parlor.”
“So you’ll kiss her and do…whatever else you’ve done,” Matthew said, his voice low and angry. Baldwin flinched. “But you will not marry her.”
“I can’t. I know you must judge me for all my mistakes.”
“No, not for your mistakes,” Matthew snapped. “Anyone could have gone down the path you did. I can totally understand how you might have come to this point. What I judge you for is loving this woman, for it is obvious that you do love her, and that you would walk away from that like it’s nothing.”
Baldwin got up and moved on him. “Trust me, it is not nothing. It’s—”
He broke off and tried to turn away, but Matthew caught his arm and wrenched him back in place. “What is it?”
“Complicated,” Baldwin said softly.
Matthew released him, horror passing over his features. He backed away, step by step, and stared at Baldwin like he had never seen him before. The expression made Baldwin’s heart hurt.
“Complicated,” Matthew repeated, his voice empty. “No, complicated is having the woman you loved buried in the ground because of something you did. Complicated is watching her die and not being able to do anything about it. Complicated is having your future taken from you and yet everyone expects you to move on like it never existed. That is complicated. What you’re doing? That’s not complicated. It’s cowardly.”
Baldwin ducked his head. He had no response, after all. Matthew wasn’t wrong.
“I’m sorry.”
Matthew shrugged. “Right now you certainly are. So you’ll just walk away then. Let her go.”
“I must, even though I fear what will happen when she’s no longer under my protection.”
Matthew’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Her uncle is…cruel. Hateful. I don’t know if he’s hurt her, I do think he might be capable of it.” Baldwin clenched his fists as he thought of how enraged Shephard had been at Helena when he intervened.
“Even better,” Matthew muttered. “Well, how about this? I’ll marry her.”
Baldwin jerked his gaze to Matthew. Tyndale was standing, his arms folded across his chest, staring at Baldwin with…challenge to his gaze.
“Don’t even joke,” Baldwin said.
Matthew arched a brow. “You think I am? Everyone expects me to marry. I like Helena well enough, and it sounds like she needs to be saved. Since you will not do anything, that’s the perfect solution for everyone. Isn’t it?”
Baldwin sagged. What Tyndale was offering was exactly what Helena needed. Matthew had money and standing. He would protect her. And yet the idea of having to see her all the time, watching Matthew hold claim over her. Watching them come to care for each other, for he had no doubt Helena could melt even Matthew’s damaged heart over time…
“The very idea kills me,” he admitted. “It would be like ripping my own heart out and letting you destroy it.”
Matthew’s expression softened. “Because you love her.”
Baldwin nodded this time, finally allowing himself to express what he’d been trying to deny for days. And it hurt just as much as he’d feared it would. He loved Helena. He wanted her.
And he still didn’t see a way out.
“If you love her, do something about it,” Matthew said. “There’s still time. Forget the rest. Your heart is telling you what to do, isn’t it?”
Baldwin shuddered. “If I did this, if I married her, I would be walking away from my duties. The debts wouldn’t be paid. The truth would come out. It would destroy my family.”
“Love is worth any sacrifice,” Matthew said. “If you don’t do it, you will spend your life wishing you had. The rest will work itself out.”
Shutting his eyes, Baldwin draped his arms over his knees and drew in a long breath. Matthew was offering him a lifeline. Imperfect, yes, with so much destruction as a consequence.
And now he had to decide if he would take that chance, and those consequences. He had to decide now.
Helena’s entire body shook as she staggered into the chamber she’d been sharing with Charity. She somehow made her way to the settee and dropped down on it, flopping an arm over her face as she tried to calm her ragged breathing and slow her racing heart.
This afternoon had been an utter travesty. Not only had the confrontation between Baldwin and her uncle very likely made everything worse for her, but to have the Duke of Tyndale walk in while Baldwin had her pinned to the wall? With him grinding up against her, her surrendering like a wanton?
She had no idea what would come of that. She liked Tyndale, of course. She felt he was a kind person. Perhaps he wouldn’t talk to anyone else about the scene. But she couldn’t be certain.
“And now she’s having a lay about.”
Helena jerked to a seated position and turned to watch her uncle and cousin enter the chamber. Charity’s head was bent, but Uncle Peter looked smug as usual. He arched a brow at her.
“You understand something, little miss. You are going back to Boston as soon as I can book you passage.”
Helena’s stomach turned, but she somehow managed to keep her expression calm as she stared up at him. In the end, Boston was likely the best option for her, not that she’d ever thought she’d say that. She had no one there. Her family had abandoned her. But that was better than staying here, being treated so cruelly and eventually watching Baldwin marry some heiress.
“I’m going to go get a drink,” her uncle said, and left the room without a backward glance for either his daughter or his niece.
When he had gone, Helena forced herself to get up. Charity was watching her now, her blue eyes unreadable. Helena smoothed her dress and wished she could smooth her emotions so easily. “Why do you hate me so much?” she asked.
Charity flinched, and to Helena’s surprise, a look of hurt crossed her face. “I-I don’t,” she said.
Helena stared at her in utter disbelief. Finally, she motioned her head toward the door. “Well, he does. But don’t worry, Charity, it seems that you’ll get your wish. I’ll be gone soon and then no one will come close to dulling your shine. Excuse me, I need a walk.”
She turned on her heel and left the room. She heard Charity say her name, but didn’t look back. She just kept walking.