“You’ve come to check the wisdom of your donation?” she asked.
“No, I never doubted the funds would be used appropriately under your stewardship. However, I admit that I didn’t think to find you so personally involved in the care of the children.”
She turned to face him with only inches between them. He took a deep breath of her. “I teach classes to the older children, but I don’t typically have reason to be so participatory in the daily care of our younger children. We are shorthanded today.”
They stood for a moment in the narrow space. Something happened inside him, something that stopped time and the litany of words in his head, until there was only her.
“Ah,” he managed. It was all he could say with her scent around them and the heat from her body warming his front.
What if he kissed her impossibly soft and pink lips just once before returning to New York? What if he held her lush body against his, fitting her curves to his harder angles? Would it be enough to assuage his curiosity, or would it whet his appetite for more of her? He knew it would be the latter. Every new piece of her he was able to grasp hold of only made him want more.
“Lady Helena?” The child’s voice was plaintive and soft. She was so young the name came out a bit like Wady Hewena. Her soft hand touched Helena’s cheek. “I’m hungry.”
Max blinked and took a step away from her. This was foolish. She was so rigid and proper, he doubted she would be inclined to indulge their attraction for one night only. Unfortunately, that’s all they could have. His life was Crenshaw Iron. Even if she could be persuaded to move to New York, he was too busy to give a wife and eventual children the attention they deserved.
“Yes, it is nearing luncheon.” Released from the spell, Helena moved to the door of the room the maid had disappeared into earlier. The faint din of children could be heard from within. “I apologize, but I cannot give you a tour of the premises today.”
“Of course. I understand. I shouldn’t have dropped by unexpectedly.”
“It’s no trouble. Any other day . . .” Her voice drifted off as she opened the door and stared at the disorder before her. Half the children were naked, while the other half were in their underthings, except for the one the poor maid was dutifully dressing as he wriggled and squirmed and generally did his best to thwart her efforts. Some of the children were running in circles, trailing bedding behind them.
“Apologies, milady.” The young maid glanced up from her charge. “They do not seem to take instruction well.” Clearly, taking care of the younger children did not fall under the girl’s normal duties.
For her part, Helena appeared faintly horrified. This was out of the realm of her normal duties as well. The possessiveness from earlier reared its head, awakened by seeing this vulnerability that so few ever saw. Some deeply buried part of him liked seeing her armor of polite indifference falling away, almost as much as he relished witnessing how she was able to rally herself.
“Go help Cook prepare their trays.” She spoke kindly to the girl. “I think it would be best if they dine in their room today.”
Finished dressing the boy, the young maid rose to her feet and gave a quick curtsy before rushing out of the room. Turning to Max, Helena said, “As I was saying, I’m afraid there isn’t any time to continue our chat.”
“No, I suppose not. There was something I had hoped to discuss.”
They both noticed the sudden silence in the room at the same time. Helena whirled to see the children staring at them with wide eyes.
“Who’s that?” one of them asked.
“Children, this is Mr. Crenshaw. He’s come to say hello.”
Taking his cue, he said, “Hello. I was passing on the street below and heard such a commotion that I decided to come in and offer my assistance to the dear Lady Helena.”
A couple of them giggled, but most continued to stare at him. “Aside from Ostler, who generally stays downstairs, they haven’t had cause to interact with very many men,” she explained. “I suspect your deep voice and size have rendered you an interesting specimen.”
“Have they?” He couldn’t resist teasing her, having noted the way her own gaze had taken in his height as she had knelt at the tub.
The hint of flirtation in his voice had her looking back at him until one of the girls asked, “Why does he talk like that?”
“Because I come from a land of giants.” Smiling, he strode past Helena into the room. Jeremy, a good friend of his from his university days, had three boys already, all born in the span of three years. Max had had a little bit of practice entertaining them. “Who here likes a good story?”
“I do,” answered two of the older-looking boys. The others continued to stare with wide owl eyes.
“Excellent,” he answered before glancing over his shoulder at Helena’s stunned expression. “I could keep them occupied while you finish dressing them, if you’d like?”
She nodded, slowly at first as if she couldn’t believe what was happening. Gathering herself, she said, “Yes, thank you,” and hurried to the wardrobe to begin dressing Emily.
Sitting on the end of one of the narrow beds, he asked, “Who here has heard the story of a fellow named Jack and his magic beans? He visits a land of giants, where I’m from.”
For the next quarter hour, he kept them entertained as she pulled children over one at a time to dress them. She snickered when he affected a terrible and exaggerated English accent for the part of Jack. She smiled when he stomped around the room as if he were a giant when the story called for it. Despite himself, he was trying to charm her as much as keep the children occupied. Winning her approval gave him a rush of elation that was quickly becoming addictive.
Finally, the children were all dressed, and the maid and a woman who appeared to be the cook came in a few moments later carrying trays of apple slices, toasted bread, and cheese. He stayed to help, enjoying his time with her. It made him think of the reason for his visit. Would she agree to a pretend betrothal?
He couldn’t answer that any more than he could stop himself from imagining what might happen if the facade of a relationship faded away, if she really did become his wife and the mother of his children. Perish the thought. Two weeks ago he had been assured of his status as a bachelor for at least several more years, and now he was ready to make her his wife. Perhaps ready was an exaggeration, but it didn’t strike him as an unpleasant thought.
The next half hour was busy as the children ate and were rounded up for yet another story—this time Helena read one to them—before putting them to bed for their naps. He stepped into the corridor as she went around the room tucking them in one by one.
After a moment she stepped out, closing the door softly behind her. “Thank you again for your help,” she whispered, walking toward the stairs.