His brow arched, but otherwise his features stayed calm and composed. “How could you not?”
“Are you implying that you yourself were not born in luxurious surroundings? If gossip can be believed, your annual income far exceeds even that of Evan’s with his newly inherited gold mine.”
“And yet we both know that income does not a gentleman make.”
“Apparently not.” She couldn’t believe how quickly her anger had taken hold of her. One moment she was anticipating the dance with him, and the next she was ready to storm from the room.
He glanced away, though his feet kept perfect time to the music. She could see the muscle working in his jaw as he got a handle on his own anger. After a moment, he appeared contrite as he said, “I don’t know what . . . I shouldn’t have lumped you in with them.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. Need I remind you that the entire reason this deception is going to work is because of my elevated status?”
His expression softened a bit. “Point taken. I do appreciate your assistance.”
She sniffed and glanced toward the crowd as he led her along in the dance. He really was a good dancer. He didn’t exude grace, but he managed the steps easily without making it seem as if his large frame were weighting his every move. “I should hope so.”
“Truth be told . . .” He paused, prompting her to look at him in time to see an unlikely pink tinting his face and ears. He was embarrassed. She nearly stumbled at the realization and only recovered because of his strong hand at her back. “I didn’t like the way your mother looked at me. Like I wasn’t good enough to dance with you.”
“She looks at everyone that way.”
“Not that Stratton fellow.” He looked down at her again, meeting her eyes, and for the first time ever she saw the hint of vulnerability in their depths. It was actually very charming. Before she could comment on it, he hurried on. “That doesn’t matter, though. It was no reason to take my irritation out on you.”
Speechless for the moment, she gave a small shake of her head. He was jealous of Sir Stratton. The knowledge made her unreasonably happy.
“You would make a lovely couple, however,” he added.
She missed a beat and managed to step on his foot. Glaring up at him, she opened her mouth to reply but paused when she saw how he was watching her. His eyes had narrowed slightly, drawing his brows into the beginnings of that furrow she so enjoyed, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward. “You’re baiting me.”
His expression didn’t change as he led them into a turn. When it was finished, he said, “Perhaps.”
“Why?”
He somehow managed to shrug while keeping his perfect form. “Because I like how you become exceedingly proper when you take offense to something. You’re adorable.”
Adorable. She hadn’t been adorable in at least two decades, and even then, no one had called her that. “I am an adult woman. That is hardly an appropriate—” She broke off when she realized he was still amusing himself at her expense. They went through two more turns as she attempted to calm herself. What reason did she have for allowing herself to get upset about his teasing, when she herself had done the same thing at the orphanage? There was something when they were together that led to this sort of immature chiding.
“This is precisely why this isn’t going to work.”
“Why?” His hand was on her back slightly lower than necessary. It had been there ever since he had helped to right her and hadn’t moved back to its appropriate position. It wasn’t completely improper; it was simply that she kept focusing on it.
“No one will believe that we’re in love when they see us constantly arguing with each other.”
His gaze became thoughtful as he watched her. The dance continued, but she could feel his scrutiny through every turn and step. Finally, he said, “I don’t believe the idea is to make them think we’re in love.” When her brow rose in question, he tilted his head slightly toward her to be heard over the music, but so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice very much. “That wouldn’t work.”
“Then what is the point of this charade?”
He gave her a slight grin, but there was something dark and devilish in his eyes now. “I’ve always thought lust is the more powerful emotion, and it gets mistaken for love far too often.”
“Lust?” She repeated the word stupidly, because she couldn’t understand what he meant. The woman next to them glanced over her shoulder at them, and Helena blushed, only then realizing that she’d been too shocked to lower her voice.
“Unfulfilled desire can cause men to do forceful but ridiculous things. No, we don’t have time to convince them we’re in love. We only need to make them believe that I want you beyond reason.”
She swallowed thickly as every word she had ever thought died a slow death in her head. It was a good thing the music was dying away, because she probably couldn’t have continued to waltz.
Maxwell bowed over her hand and placed a chaste kiss to the back. “Meet me in the conservatory at midnight.”
She watched him walk away, unable to talk or even move. The couples passed around her as they traded partners and prepared for the next dance. She had never once met a man in secret at a ball. It seemed only fitting that Maxwell Crenshaw would be the first.
Chapter 8
For a few seconds they looked silently into each other’s eyes, and the distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable.
Leo Tolstoy
The conservatory was a modestly sized space at a far corner of the house that overlooked the garden. It existed on both the ground and first floors with a spiral staircase adjoining the two. A small receiving room separated it from the ballroom, making it a quiet but not scandalous place for Max and Helena to meet. Or so he had thought. As Max roamed the narrow aisles formed by specially built shelving, he realized the room easily contained double the recommended allotment of plants for the space. The aisles were wide enough to traverse without issue; the problem was that the greenery rose all the way up to the glass ceiling. The effect was that no one could see who lingered in the aisle on either side of them, while potted trees, shrubbery, and ferns stood sentinel at the ends of the rows, their full leaves and branches working as shelter.
“Mr. Crenshaw.”
Max turned from his study of the unsuitability of the conservatory to see Helena approach. Her gown shimmered as she walked, the gaslight emphasizing the way the fabric clung to her hips, making them appear full and lush. He couldn’t stop his gaze from resting on the creamy swell of her breasts that spilled over the bodice. She really was quite breathtaking. He’d known this all along, obviously, having spent considerable time in her company, but there was something about the way that gown fit her so perfectly that had him unable to look away. He’d never seen her wear anything so seductive.