Page 33 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
Helena contemplated jumping from the moving vehicle but disregarded the idea because such recklessness might have rightfully been interpreted as hysterical. Since avoidance wasn’t a tactic she could use right now, she decided to face the dragon head-on, as it were. “Is there something you wish to say, Mama?”
Her father shifted on the seat across from them, drawing their attention in the silence. Shadows played over his face, making him appear rigid and forbidding, which wasn’t that much different from how he appeared in full daylight. Only this time she could read his expression even less. Mama quietly gripped her hand in encouragement.
“Is it to be Maxwell Crenshaw, then?” he asked in that forthright way he had.
With every fiber of her being she wanted to say no to avoid what was coming, but she knew that she had been doing that her whole life. Giving a little bit to save trouble had caused her to lose tiny pieces of herself along the way, pieces that she hadn’t missed at first, until they had chipped away at her core. She had only begun to gather them up over the last several years. It would be too risky to drop even one. It might make them all come tumbling down.
“Yes,” she said. The one word had a silent echo that beat through her in a thumping bass.
Papa sighed. “And what of Verick? I sent a letter, asking him to Claremont Hall for our Christmas gathering.”
“I shall look forward to seeing him.”
Lord Verick had been one of Arthur’s closest friends. He had been one of the only ones who had continued to visit with him throughout his sickness from cancer and right up to his final days. For that, she loved him dearly, but she had never seriously contemplated Papa’s suggestion, nor had she realized that he’d been earnest about a marriage between them when he’d mentioned him as a possible suitor.
“You will not consider him?”
“No, Papa, we would not suit.”
“But Maxwell Crenshaw suits you?”
He did. He suited her very much. Not for marriage, obviously, but in the other ways a man could suit a woman. She was glad for the low light as a blush stained her cheeks. She’d been doing that a lot lately.
“He suits me very well,” she managed as her mouth went dry.
“All right.”
That was it? “All right?” she asked.
“It’s your life, Helena. You’re a widow, a woman grown. Your mistakes are yours to make now.” He tilted his head down to stare at her over the top of his eyeglasses, a sure sign that he was being thoughtful with his words.
This did not sound like the father she knew. That manwalked around certain that he knew what was best for everyone around him, even a stranger on the street. But then, he hadn’t actually agreed with her, had he? He was simply content to watch this all bubble over like a kettle that had been set to boil too long. Then he could proudly boast that he’d been right.
Because she wasn’t at all certain of him, she said, “You won’tdoanything, will you?”
“Do anything?What would you have me do?” With raised brows, he looked at her as if she’d sprouted a horn.
“I only mean that you won’t make trouble. You won’t tell your friends horrible things about the London Home for Young Women?”
“Helena! What do you take me for? My own daughter believes I plot to thwart her.”
“Farthington, dramatics are tiresome. You would plot against God himself if he set a task against you,” her mother said, giving her hand another squeeze.
He huffed. “Nevertheless, I bear no ill will for that place beyond the fact that my daughter associates with those beneath her. You have done as I asked. You found a man who seems intent on supporting you, and despite what I may think of the Crenshaw elders, Maxwell Crenshaw seems to be an upstanding man.” He inclined his head and added, “Do what you will.”
“Thank you, Papa, I appreciate that and am glad to hear it. I have found a building, and it would be a shame if it were snatched out from under me before I even had a chance to bid.”
He huffed again, this time looking out the window, indicating he was finished with the conversation.
“Bid?” Mama asked. “Are there others interested?”
“I believe so, but I have arranged a meeting with the owner,” Helena explained as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her house. “I hope to plead my case before him.”
“And this owner knows what you intend for this building?”
“Yes, the basic idea, at any rate.”
Mama raised a skeptical brow. “Good luck, darling.”
