Page 40 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
They always seemed to quarrel to a small degree, and she enjoyed riling him. That was the only way to explain the satisfaction that wound through her at the physical evidence of her effect on him now. He was like a lion, powerful and magnificent in his ire, but she never felt afraid of him. She never felt that his bite would wound her. Even when real anger was involved, their spats were playacting. God help her, she wanted to be his plaything.
The thought shocked her, stealing the breath right from her lungs. Had she no shame? This is the same man who had practically booted her from his life the moment he’d got what he wanted. She hadn’t heard another word fromhim since his visit earlier in the week to tell her that now things were settled and they needn’t bother with being seen together.
“Damn yourself!” The words burst out of her as soon as she could get her breath back. His eyes widened in surprise. “You with your infinite funding, you can purchase any building you want. Why should I be the one to give up the home that so many people need so desperately?”
“I cannot purchase any building I want. Like anyone else, I am bound—” He broke off as the door swung open and Sir Phineas returned, leading a footman. Maxwell’s furrowed brow indicated that the conversation was far from over.
“My apologies for that,” Sir Phineas said. “There was a minor mishap in the kitchen, but all is well.” Taking his seat at the head of the table, he didn’t seem to notice the tension between his guests as the butler hurried to pour sherry for them.
“No apologies necessary, Sir Phineas,” she said. The footman set a bowl of turtle soup before her. “It was good to chat with Mr. Crenshaw in your absence.” At least she knew where they both stood now.
“What a marvelous coincidence that you two have met. How long have you known each other? It can’t be very long. You’ve only just come to town, haven’t you, Mr. Crenshaw?” Apparently, the man did not pay attention to the scandal sheets or he would have read all about their courtship.
“We met in the spring. I...” Maxwell hesitated, and Helena disguised a smile at his discomfort by bringing a spoonful of soup to her mouth. Their history was somewhat complicated if one didn’t want to explain the entire fiasco of Violet running away from an arranged marriage. “I was here in June for my sister’s marriage to Lord Leigh.”
“Ah yes, I read about their marriage in the papers. A belated congratulations to your sister and her husband.” Ifhe had read about the accompanying scandal, he was too kind to say.
Maxwell nodded, but then his gaze held hers and she had trouble looking away. “I met Helena then. She had befriended my sisters.”
He insisted on using her first name without her title. Did that mean he would reveal their supposed courtship?
“What brings you back to London? Is it solely Crenshaw Iron Works?” Sir Phineas asked.
“My father fell ill.” When the man was quick to offer his condolences, Maxwell added, “But he’s improving. I’ve had to lend a hand to my sister who has been running things while he recovers.”
Sir Phineas’s eyebrow rose at the mention of August, but to his credit, he didn’t comment. “Then you have been busy. I understand now your need for haste. You probably want to get this settled before returning home.”
Maxwell relaxed visibly. “Yes, that is my hope. We’re keeping our father as calm as possible, and—laws being as they are for married women—the company would prefer my father or I sign the purchase contracts.”
One of the best reasons to remain a widow. Helena was able to sign for herself without a man’s approval. Knowing this, why was she feeling so irritated with Maxwell’s coolness toward her? She didn’t understand it. That frustration combined with her earlier irritation made her say, “You might as well know, Sir Phineas, that Maxwell and I have been... we’ve begun a courtship of sorts.” Addingof sortswas as close to the truth as she could get. She mainly confessed to their relationship to see how Maxwell would react, but she also felt that it would be unfair to not reveal it, especially since it was well-documented in the papers. If Sir Phineas read about it later and they hadn’t confessed now, he might feel misled.
Maxwell paused in the act of bringing his spoon to hislips. The furrow between his brows deepened, and she ignored the little thrill that flickered through her belly.
“Is that so? Why, this night is proving to be very interesting. And you never knew that you were both hoping to obtain the same property?” asked Sir Phineas.
“No.” Maxwell’s voice was strong and firm.
She smiled in an attempt to keep her composure and regain the upper hand. No one could win a battle if they gave in to their emotions. “Perhaps in hindsight we should have been more forthcoming when we spoke.”
The mild accusation landed if one could judge by Maxwell’s scowl. “I didn’t realize you would be so interested in the minutiae of Crenshaw Iron.” His voice was pleasant but blade sharp.
“Fair point. We can’t all possess fanatical fixations with industry. Some of us wish to actually improve lives for those less fortunate.” It was a bit of a low blow, even she could admit, but before she could feel bad about it, he spoke.
“Industrial endeavors improve lives for all of society by providing jobs and trade,” Maxwell said, his tone sharpening by a degree.
“Oh, I agree that industrycanimprove lives, but the reality is that those improvements only trickle down to a chosen few and the rest are cast away, used and discarded to end up in the depths of St. Giles and every other rookery present in every industrial city.”
The table shook when Maxwell shifted, as if he’d accidentally kicked a table leg. The sherry trembled in their glasses, and the porcelain clinked. His eyes were as fierce as she had ever seen them as he fixed them on her. A lion forced to hold back his fury. What would it be like if he was ever able to unleash all that passion on her? A blush accompanied the thought, sending her attention back to her bowl of soup.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind that soundedsuspiciously like her mother berating her said,“A lady does not think such wicked thoughts, Helena. Baser impulses are the purview of men. True ladies learn to overcome them.”
This wasn’t the first time she had wondered if she wasn’t a true lady, despite her birth. The last time had been as recently as the night of their last kiss when she had been alone in her bed wondering what it would be like if Maxwell was there with her. Her hand had found its way beneath her nightdress, but she’d been unable to find the relief she sought.
Her face flamed as she stared down at her food. What inappropriate thoughts for such an important dinner. Thankfully, Sir Phineas came to her rescue.
“Er... That’s a very astute observation, Lady Helena,” he said, clearly having trouble finding his way through their tense exchange. “Tell us more about your charity, if you will. I have been fascinated by what I have learned, but I’d like to hear more about it from you.”
She couldn’t stop herself from glancing toward Maxwell. He’d paused with his spoon partially raised to his mouth as if the sight of her blush had stunned him. The furrow on his forehead was gone as he stared at her. Dear God, it was almost as if he could read her thoughts. Jerking her gaze back to Sir Phineas, she raised her napkin to her mouth to buy herself an extra moment to gather herself.
