“Would you be kind enough to send Mrs. Cavendish up?” Helena asked.
“I’m sorry, milady. All of the smalls are being attended by only one mistress today. Mrs. Cavendish is assisting in one of the other rooms. It seems that whatever ails Mrs. White has taken hold of others.”
Wonderful. This would explain why the headmistress hadn’t been at her desk this morning when Helena had come in. Charlotte had been her first meeting of the day, so she hadn’t yet had time to do a proper walk of the home as she normally did.
“I hope it’s nothing serious. Would you have Kathleen from the kitchen come up to clean the wall before the paint sets in?”
“Of course, milady.” Mary gave a quick curtsy and hurried out of the room.
Helena spared a moment of envious contemplation in the direction of the door, before a crash drew her back to the circumstances at hand. “Oh, Andrew.” He grinned in triumph as red and blue paint ran in rivers of color around him on the floor. The children with the locomotives squealed in glee as they hurried over and wasted no time in dipping their hands into the paint.
Thus, Maxwell Crenshaw found her in the midst of giving the children baths when he arrived approximately a half hour later.
Chapter 5
It appears that ordinary men take wives because possession is not possible without marriage.
Thomas Hardy
Max was momentarily dumbstruck by the sight before him. There was no other way to describe how his mouth became dry and every word in his head died a silent death. The doorman, a Mr. Ostler, had been reluctant to show Max to where Helena was working upstairs, but he’d relented readily enough when Max had given his name. Now he knew why as he stood in the corridor watching her gently scrub the child in the bath. She really had been indisposed.
Several strands of golden hair had escaped the confines of her hairpins, and her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows. He had never seen her so disheveled. She had always been the quintessential English lady: hair appropriately restrained by the astute hands of a lady’s maid, clothing impeccably maintained and styled without a single wrinkle or unwanted crease, and a voice always within the acceptable range of moderate but benign interest.
This was not the woman he knew, while at the same time being more of the woman he wanted to know. What a contradiction she was. She was earthy and real, and he found himself taking a step closer without even realizing it.
“Lady Helena?”
Her eyes widened when she looked up at him through the open door, and her mouth dropped open. It was the most ungraceful expression he had ever seen her make, and that was including the angry way she had scowled at him on the train back to London when he had lectured Violet about running off with scoundrels. He imagined how she would look tousled after sex, after she had come apart in his arms, and he had to force the vision away as heat swept up his body. That wasn’t why he was here. His plan, if she agreed, might call for them to pretend to be engaged, but he would not be entitled to the benefits of her charms.
The chubby fist of the child splashed the water in enthusiasm, sending a deluge down her apron front, which brought her out of her momentary stupor. Blowing a strand of hair off her face, she said, “What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Mr. Crenshaw.” Her tone was the epitome of a polite lady, but her eyes showed her displeasure.
“The gentleman was insistent, milady,” Ostler explained. He gave Mr. Crenshaw a glance filled with censure. Max knew that he should make his apologies, or feel some sort of remorse, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret anything that had brought him to this moment in this corridor watching her wash a child in the bathing room.
She raised a brow at him and said, “Thank you, Ostler.” The man gave a short bow and left them. Turning her full attention back to the child, she picked her up and wrapped her in toweling as she handed her off to a harried-looking maid who took her charge off into another room.
“In you go, Emily.” The last child of the group, a young girl who appeared to be two or three years at most, eyed the water with distrust but bravely stepped into the tub. She had a swatch of blue paint on her cheek, likely the reason for the morning bath.
“I can see I’ve come at a bad time, but I confess I am glad to be here.”
“I cannot imagine why.” Her face heated, a pleasant flush rising from her neck to settle in the apples of her cheeks. She was probably embarrassed, another reason he should feel poorly about barging in, but he couldn’t summon the emotion.
“Because it’s good to see you this way.” Now that Ostler was gone he walked closer and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “You are always so well put together and polished.” Seeing her like this sent a strange rush of possessive energy rising up within him. What a sight she would be coming undone for him.
She opened her mouth to say something but then seemed to think better of it as she hurried through the child’s bath. Finally, she said, “I cannot imagine what you find so amusing about that.” Her voice held a crisp note that he imagined was her attempting to inject some properness into the situation.
Amusing? Well, he was smiling, he realized. “I wouldn’t use the term amusing.” There was a momentary silence between them, broken only by the splashes of the child in the water. “Enchanting, perhaps.”
She glanced up at him. Her blue gaze fixed on his. The whole situation became even curiouser as she again seemed to be at a loss for words. The English lady who always had a rejoinder at the ready was silent. He could get accustomed to using flirting and compliments to fluster her.
She tried very diligently to not look at him as she gently rinsed the girl’s fine dark hair, careful not to get water in her eyes. “Perhaps you could assist me?” She indicated the last bit of toweling draped on a hook. He leaned forward to take hold of it and held it out for her. When she took it, her fingers brushed his, drawing the dangerous energy that coursed through his body to the place of the simple contact. A delicious tingle began in his palm.
“Up you go,” she said to Emily as she pulled the rubber stopper from the tub and picked the girl up, wrapping her in the toweling. The child’s chubby hands clung to her shoulders. To him, she said, “Is there a reason you called?” A current of cool detachment infused her voice. That more than her blush or anything else told him how he affected her far more than she wanted to acknowledge.
The thought pleased him immensely, though he didn’t really know why. So what if there was mutual attraction between them? It couldn’t lead to anything. She was hardly going to indulge him in a tryst. She probably wasn’t even going to indulge him in the betrothal plot.
“I happened to be nearby and thought I would call. Violet and August are always going on about the good work you do here. I wanted to see it for myself.” He stepped back to allow her passage into the corridor. As she walked past him, the pleasant smell of lilies teased his nose, making him want to stay close enough to her to get more of her scent.