Page 22 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
Did his sisters know about the plan? Probably not, because Maxwell had implicitly said that no one could know the whole truth. They would have to tell Violet and August something, Helena decided. It wouldn’t be fair to make them think the relationship was real.
Camille finished her prepared words to a round of “Hear! Hear!” which brought Helena back to what was happening. Everyone took a drink from their glasses. A footman appeared by magic to offer Maxwell champagne, meaning he must have come directly to her instead of wandering around. That pleased her immensely.
“To us,” she whispered, holding her glass aloft again.
“You’re officially accepting?”
She nodded in silent acknowledgment.
He smiled behind his glass before tipping it to his lips. “I’m beginning to think you’re going to enjoy this too much. Your life was sorely lacking in intrigue.”
“That hasn’t been true since you Crenshaws came to London.”
He laughed, drawing her mother’s disapproving eye. “We do have a certain quality.” Winking at Helena, he turned his attention to Hereford, who was now thanking everyone for coming.
Hereford spoke again for several minutes, but Helena only heard every few words. She was too busy trying to deconstruct Maxwell’s smell. A soft cloud of his scent surrounded her, not too intrusive, only enough to have her wanting to lean in closer to get more of it. There was the pleasant, clean scent of citrus, possibly lemon, which quickly gave way to adeeper woodsy fragrance, perhaps vetiver, but underneath that was something stronger and warm with an almost smoky depth. What was it?
“Shall we dance and begin this ruse publicly?” He shifted and offered his arm to her.
It was only then that she realized the opening strains of the waltz “Tales from the Vienna Woods” had started. She accepted his arm as her mother turned, momentarily blocking their path to the dance floor, where couples were already beginning to take their places.
“Good evening, Mr. Crenshaw.” To Helena, she said, “Say hello to Sir Stratton, darling.”
Helena hadn’t noticed that at some point during the speeches the man had taken a position at Mama’s far side. “Hello, Sir Stratton. How are you?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Maxwell said, “Good evening to you both. I’m afraid that Lady Helena has promised me her waltzes this evening.” That was all he said before politely bowing his head and ushering her through the crowd. They had no doubt left both Mama and poor Sir Stratton behind in openmouthed shock, but Helena couldn’t bring herself to look behind her and check.
“That was poor of you,” she said when he gently took her champagne glass from her hand and put it on the tray of a waiting footman. Then he pulled her into his arms as they joined the other couples.
“I imagine it’s nothing less than your lot expect from a Crenshaw.” There was a slight edge in his voice that caught her by surprise. The fact that he would lump her in with the others hurt her far more deeply than it should have.
She waited until they had completed a partial turn around the room so they were on the far side of the dance floor where there was less of an audience. “My lot?”
“Aristocrats. The men and women who naively believe themselves to be above others because they happened to have been born in a manor house.”
“Do you think that I believe myself to—?” She paused because a couple drifted a bit close, and there was no need for anyone to hear them arguing. Not if they were hoping to be convincing in their ploy. “To be above you in status?”
His brow arched, but otherwise his features stayed calm and composed. “How could you not?”
“Are you implying that you yourself were not born in luxurious surroundings? If gossip can be believed, your annual income far exceeds even that of Evan’s with his newly inherited gold mine.”
“And yet we both know that income does not a gentleman make.”
“Apparently not.” She couldn’t believe how quickly her anger had taken hold of her. One moment she was anticipating the dance with him, and the next she was ready to storm from the room.
He glanced away, though his feet kept perfect time to the music. She could see the muscle working in his jaw as he got a handle on his own anger. After a moment, he appeared contrite as he said, “I don’t know what... I shouldn’t have lumped you in with them.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Need I remind you that the entire reason this deception is going to work is because of myelevated status?”
His expression softened a bit. “Point taken. I do appreciate your assistance.”
She sniffed and glanced toward the crowd as he led her along in the dance. He really was a good dancer. He didn’t exude grace, but he managed the steps easily without making it seem as if his large frame were weighting his every move. “I should hope so.”
“Truth be told...” He paused, prompting her to look at him in time to see an unlikely pink tinting his face and ears. He was embarrassed. She nearly stumbled at the realization and only recovered because of his strong hand at herback. “I didn’t like the way your mother looked at me. Like I wasn’t good enough to dance with you.”
“She looks at everyone that way.”
“Not that Stratton fellow.” He looked down at her again, meeting her eyes, and for the first time ever she saw the hint of vulnerability in their depths. It was actually very charming. Before she could comment on it, he hurried on. “That doesn’t matter, though. It was no reason to take my irritation out on you.”
