Page 53 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
“You could take my seat,” she said, indicating the vacant chair next to Sir Phineas.
Of course she had been sitting next to Sir Phineas. A hollow pang of jealousy churned deep within him, but he managed to ignore it as he sat down. A young maid appeared from nowhere and set a cup and saucer on the table before him. She wasn’t the typical footman he had come to expect at such gatherings, and he couldn’t help but smile at his sister’s influence. Violet had famously staffed her ownLondon home with maids hired from Helena’s charity, much to the scandal of all the old-fashioned types who believed that only men should serve guests in drawing rooms and dinner tables. Or perhaps it was Helena who had influenced his sister. Max had only ever seen the Huxleys when he’d come over, which made him realize that he didn’t know as much about Helena as he wanted.
Over the course of the next hour, Helena spoke about her ideas for the London Home for Young Women. Guests would interrupt to ask questions or for clarification, and the discussion would veer into a tangent until Helena skillfully brought it back on track. Sir Phineas asked the occasional question, but mostly he watched her with clear admiration and nodded along. Near the end, all the nodding made Max suspicious that the man had heard this all before.
When she took off the covering that had been draped over an as yet unnoticed stand to reveal a black-on-white drawing of the finished London Home for Young Women, Max knew that his suspicion had been correct. Unprompted, Sir Phineas stood and walked up to help her display a second page, which was an interior drawing. A hum of approval resounded in the room as Helena’s vision was brought to temporary, corporeal life on those papers.
After the man sat back down a few moments later, Max whispered, “Have you heard all of this before?”
Sir Phineas leaned over. “I proposed this idea over correspondence, and we arranged this meeting two days ago when I returned to London to prepare. I have an adequate hand, so I came up with a few drawings based on Lady Helena’s discussions with Mr. Wilson.” His gaze, full of admiration, was almost immediately lured back to Helena. “She’s marvelous, isn’t she?”
August heard the comment from where she sat in the next group and glanced over at Max with a brow raised, as if to note that he had competition.
Max ground his molars but managed to nod inagreement. Sir Phineas could claim he wasonlyhelping her all he wanted, but there was no denying the expression on his face when he looked at her. If she were Max’s actual fiancée, he would have set the man straight. As it stood now he was left seething in his unreasonable jealousy, perfectly aware that it was an unwanted emotion, but unable to stop it.
When Helena’s portion of the talk was finished, she traded places with Sir Phineas, who stood before them all and gave a short speech about how impressed he was with her initiative before thanking them for coming. He seemed to have kind words and offered praise to the great works each woman present had accomplished from an advice columnist to a woman who sat on the board of a museum. The women, all middle-aged aside from Helena and his sisters, affluent, and simpering in their enthusiasm for the man, applauded politely and thanked him for arranging the meeting.
Inside, Max felt himself splitting in two. He was happy about the opportunity the man was presenting Helena but seething in envy that he had not been able to present the same advantage for her. The whole point of their masquerade was so that he, as her approving betrothed, could attract this sort of approval from potential donors, and now it turned out she didn’t need him at all. What was he supposed to do with that? She had already told him in no uncertain terms that one night with her was all he would have, and now she didn’t even need this.
He rose and paid his respects to each woman as befitted his place as her suitor and assumed fiancé. Yes, he was proud of the work Lady Helena was doing. Yes, she was tireless in her efforts. No, he had not assisted her in preparing for her presentation. Yes, she was wonderful.
After an endless round of goodbyes, the door finally closed on Sir Phineas and his sisters, the last of the guests to leave. Despite the jealousy roiling inside him, Max could only smile at her as she returned to him in the room. “You did well, Helena.”
She was practically glowing, her face flushed with joy and excitement, as she came up and grabbed his hands. “We did, didn’t we? I already have two meetings arranged for after the house party.”
There was no mistaking that thewereferred to her and Sir Phineas. “Wonderful news. I bet you’ll hear from more of them in the coming days.”
Mrs. Huxley and the maid hurried into the room to clean it but paused when they noticed him. Still in a daze of pleasure from her triumph, Helena kept hold of his hand as she led him from the room and into her drawing room. One of the bouquets of lilies he had sent her was set on the mantel. His eyes were drawn to the rug before the hearth where he had been inside her not even a week ago. His cock stirred in fond tribute to the act that he very much wanted to repeat. She didn’t seem to notice the direction of his thoughts as she guided him to the settee. The moment she sat she released his hand. It automatically curled into a fist as if to hold on to her heat.
When she finished recounting some of the words of encouragement from the women, he said, “I never knew you had such a well thought-out plan.”
She smiled at him but cocked her head to the side in question. Her lips parted slightly, the bottom looking as soft as he remembered. “Whyever not? You heard me tell Sir Phineas over dinner. Did you think I had spent the last year simply not planning?”
“No...” But his voice trailed off, because he realized he hadn’t actually given it much thought. “I suppose at dinner I was too concerned with my own objectives to listen.”
Her grin flattened, but she nodded. “I know. Crenshaw Iron is a burden, but you bear it well. I understand how consuming it can be.”
In the face of her immense compassion, he understood very clearly what he had failed to even consider before. He was willing to make her his wife based on superficialstandards that she herself had rejected. She fit his life so well that he had never actually considered how well he might or might not fit hers. He had seen taking her to New York with him as a minor inconvenience for her that she could easily overcome, never fully understanding how she would not want to be uprooted by someone who might only have a vague, passing interest in her life.
Now he knew why she hadn’t invited him to this. She had likely and reasonably assumed that he’d either be uninterested or too busy to come. He was left with one damning conclusion: he had been a terrible fiancé.
“Helena, I greatly admire the work you’ve done with the orphanage and the women and children you’ve taken under your wing. I don’t know that I’ve adequately expressed that to you.”
She smiled. “Thank you.” But she couldn’t hold his gaze because she looked down at where their hands rested, close together but not touching.
“I want to know more about what you do.”
Her smile fled completely as her brows came together. “Why?”
“Because I’ve just realized that there is very much I do not understand. Have dinner with me tomorrow? You can tell me more.”
She stared at him, her gaze scanning his face as a tender sort of realization began to dawn. Her eyes, so filled with joy earlier, were now filled with wariness. “There’s no need for you to understand more.”
Bridging the inches between them, he covered her hand with his. “The work you’re doing is commendable and important. I can offer my experience, if you think it will help. Crenshaw Iron has built several apartment homes that I’ve overseen.”
A hesitant smile returned, and she squeezed his hand. “I appreciate your offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What isn’t?” he asked.
