Page 55 of The Lady Tempts an Heir
Helena pulled twine through the spruce needles arranged artfully before her, tying them sprig by sprig to the circular wire frame to make a wreath. She wasn’t feeling very inspired, mainly due to her lack of concentration. Every sound from outside had her jumping, her neck craning as she looked out the window hoping to see a carriage coming up the drive.
August giggled softly beside her as Helena did it yet again only to see one of the groundsmen leading a wagon from the stables. “Their train arrived a little while ago if it’s on schedule. He should be here soon.”
There was no need to define who she meant. “I’m not concerned.”
No, she was anxious and excited, butterflies flapping in her stomach like mad to see him again. The past few days apart had only seemed to whet her appetite for the sight of him. She constantly struggled with her decision to keep him at arm’s length when being with him felt so good. Part of her wanted to say damn the consequences and spend as much time alone with him as she could; part of her wanted to protect her already fragile heart at all costs.
Camille also giggled from across the table where she worked next to Violet on one end of a bough, her knowing glance drifting from August to Helena. “Has he actually proposed yet?”
Lady Sansbury, Arthur’s mother, glanced up in irritation at all the laughter from a table the older women were gathered around. She had become even more severe since his death.
“No, not yet.” Helena shifted, uncomfortable with openly discussing the ruse they were pulling over on Society.
“You’re very lucky, you know,” Camille said, keeping her voice low so that it wouldn’t travel past their small group. “Every girl in Manhattan wants him for herself.”
Helena wasn’t surprised. He was handsome, wealthy, thoughtful, and kind, the type of husband anyone would want.
Violet made a face. “Noteverygirl.”
“Everygirl.” Camille nodded with confidence. “Amelia would give her right hand to have him.”
“Amelia? No.” Violet’s tone made it sound like a vast betrayal.
August laughed and explained to Helena, “Amelia is a friend of Violet’s and Camille’s. She practically grew up in our home.”
“And she doesn’t want to marry Max,” Violet said.
“I’m afraid I agree with Camille’s assessment on the matter,” August intervened. “If you’d have seen her at my wedding party in New York, you’d know. She had eyes only for Max, and even asked him to dance.”
Camille smiled wistfully. “She always liked him. Truthfully, I did, too. Why do you think I arranged to be over whenever he came home from Princeton on breaks?”
“Et tu, Camille?” Violet shook her head. “This is the same boy who put lizards in our shoes.”
“I’m not certain if you noticed, Violet, but your brother is not a boy any longer.” Appreciation for the man he had become was evident in Camille’s voice.
Helena wondered if the woman really was holding on to a tender for him. How horrible it must be to imagine yourself with someone like Max, only to end up with someone cold like Hereford. Not for the first time, Helena considered that she might regret letting Max slip through her fingers, but then she reminded herself that it would be selfish to keep him when she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
Violet sighed. “I suppose not. Well, if he must be married, then you are the best choice to put up with him, Helena.” Violet winked at her as she went back to arranging her end of the bough.
Camille giggled. “He’ll propose before he leaves. I just know it.”
Helena shrugged. “I thought he might wait until Christmas.”
Camille stopped her arranging and looked up at her. “But he’ll be in New York for Christmas. No, he’ll definitely do it properly before he leaves.”
Helena’s fingers faltered in tying off the twine, a sprig of needles slipping from the wreath. “He’ll be in New York for Christmas?”
“Oh dear, hadn’t you heard?” August asked, abandoning her own wreath. “He’s been called back to New York early. There’s been a threat of a strike in one of the factories. He’s leaving Saturday.”
They only had three days together. “He didn’t tell me.” He had mentioned the workers’ demands, but she hadn’t thought he’d leave early.
Why hadn’t he told her?
“I’m sure it’s because we’ve all been so busy,” August said, patting her shoulder before returning back to her wreath.
“Yes, I’m sure it is.” But Helena knew the truth. She had been successful in pushing him away. After their heartfelt talk in her drawing room several days ago, he had simply thought it wouldn’t matter to her. Her heart ached even as she knew that she had made the right decision.
The crunching of gravel had her looking up to see the carriage that had been sent to retrieve Max and his parents from the train station approaching. Excitement leaped to life in her belly.
