Page 39 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
He had meantthis.Shewas the other buyer.
He had meantherpriory!
The moment he walked through the door, her body felt his presence like a substantial weight that changed the pressure in the room. She grew at least a degree warmer, and her entire body bristled in both warning and pleasure. It had been a few days since his visit to her home, and she missed him, but never had she thought their next meeting would be this one. “You.”
His head swung around toward her. The very second he saw her, his eyes narrowed in that attractive way of his, the furrow deepening between his brows. His eyes grew so dark they were nearly black. Her stomach seemed to tumble over itself at the sight. This was the heat and interest absent from their last meeting. Then, he had been armed with his shield of forced indifference. But not now. Her presence had caught him off guard, and he couldn’t hide it.
“Helena?” Max’s voice struck through the stuffiness of the room.
Sir Phineas’s head whipped around to look at her in surprise and then back at Maxwell.
When she was unable to find her voice, Maxwell filled the silence. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“You know each other?” Sir Phineas asked, sounding rather pleased with himself.
Her scalp prickled in warning, getting the message alittle too late about what was obviously happening here. Ignoring Sir Phineas, she asked Maxwell, “You’re interested in the priory? That’s the building you want for August?”
“The whole section of street actually.”
“Yes,” Sir Phineas interjected, apparently not one to be left out of a conversation. “I own the priory and the warehouse space surrounding it, though it’s not really fair to refer to it as a simple priory now, is it? It’s been a factory—a part of a proper industrial compound—for decades.”
She supposed he was right. Helena and the board had been too narrowly focused on how to make the priory and attached residence hall into a suitable home and schooling facility to really appreciate how it played a larger part in the compound of industrial space surrounding it.
This was terrible! If Maxwell Crenshaw wantedherpriory, then he would get it. He had the money to do whatever he wanted.
The benefits of being a Crenshaw. Money can buy you everything you want.
Those words had come from her own mouth because they were true. The Crenshaws had bought themselves a right proper place in society. They had purchased both a dukeandan earl, spending well over a million dollars to accomplish the task—the fact that they had both ended up being love matches was neither here nor there at the moment. The important thing was that Maxwell would buy this building right out from under her if she let him.
But she couldn’t allow that to happen. With the next beat of her heart, another thought struck her. Perhaps he would let her have it. He hadn’t known all along that he was bidding against her. He understood how important this was to making the London Home for Young Women a reality. It could only be crammed into the top floor of the orphanage for so long, particularly with the list of names she had needing a warm place to live for the winter. Now that heunderstood, perhaps he would go find another facility that would be just as suitable.
She knew that she needed to speak, to say something—anything—but her tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thankfully, the butler walked in as soon as Sir Phineas delivered the scotch to Maxwell. “Sir Phineas, dinner is ready.”
“Perfect timing. Shall we?” He gestured to them both, and the butler led them to the dining room.
Maxwell waited for her, moving into step beside her as she walked by him, following the butler. He held himself stiffly, as if he, too, were still in shock. Sir Phineas chattered behind them, but for the life of her she couldn’t pay attention to him with Maxwell’s looming presence next to her. Her entire right side felt warm.
The dining room was like the rest of the house with its dark wood paneling and furniture. Only here the wallpaper started halfway up the wall and was a rich brown instead of red. A beautiful chandelier lit the room, filled with beeswax candles instead of being a gas fixture. Candelabras were set at each end of the table. The candlelight lent the space an even more intimate feel than the rest of the house.
“Sir Phineas? A moment please?” the butler asked as soon as they entered the room.
“If you please.” Sir Phineas indicated the table and that he would be back in a moment, and they were suddenly left alone.
Helena was too focused on Maxwell to care. He assumed the position of host with no footman present and held her chair out for her. His face was like stone. She wished she knew what he was thinking. “Thank you,” she said as she sat.
He leaned down as he pushed her chair in. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice, as his breath tickled her ear. His tone was harsh with a soft, serrated edge that might have hinted at desperation. She couldn’t becertain without seeing his eyes. It didn’t matter. She knew then that he would not give up the priory to her.
“The same thing you’re doing here,” she answered, taking in an inadvertent inhale of his scent. It made everything inside her light up in excitement, even though it was most inappropriate given the situation.
“You know that August needs this.”
She stared at him aghast as he walked around the table to take the chair across from her. “How was I supposed to know that the priory I found was a part of your industrial compound? Violet only mentioned that you were interested in a nearby metalworks.”
His jaw still seemed tight as he sat, but he inclined his head. “Very well. You’re right. You couldn’t have known, because we never went into specifics. Now that you do know, will you do the right thing and leave off?”
“The right thing?” Impotent anger rose inside her so fast that she almost raised her voice. She had never raised her voice to anyone. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and then said, “Me? You should leave off. I need the priory and the residence for the families who will go cold this winter without it.”
“Dammit, Helena.” His hand on the table clenched into a fist, and his stern expression leveled on her.
