Max was speechless for a moment. Never had he imagined it would be so easy to gain her father’s cooperation. His common roots and wealth would provide a nearly overwhelming barrier. He had assumed the most they would obtain was Farthington’s grudging tolerance. Then, he would be immensely relieved when they called off the wedding, possibly thinking his disapproval had been instrumental in the decision.
To say this was unexpected was an understatement. To say that Max felt unreasonably happy was not.
Their courtship wasn’t real. He shouldn’t feel as if everything he had ever wanted was within his grasp, because it wasn’t. Helena wasn’t his no matter that her father approved. This was all for show, and he had no idea why he was having such trouble remembering that. Heat diffused through his chest, and he struggled to take in a breath.
Helena’s life was here in England. She would never agree to give it up to come with him to New York, no matter that he could now imagine her there with him. Reality brought his joy back down to a more reasonable level.
“Thank you, my lord. I’m certain that I can arrange my schedule so that I can attend. I’d already planned to stay through Christmas.”
“Good. I’ll have my secretary send over the details.”
“Of course,” Max answered, following Farthington to his feet.
“I must be going now.” Farthington turned but twisted back to face him after taking a step. “I don’t want to regret this, Crenshaw. Helena must have someone willing to indulge her sensibilities.”
“I’ll look after her properly. I have great affection and admiration for your daughter.”
Farthington nodded in acceptance and left him there pondering how true those words really were.
* * *
• • •
Helena rose to her feet when Huxley announced Maxwell at her drawing room door. She hadn’t seen him since their kiss the night before last, approximately forty-one and a half hours ago—not that she’d been counting them. He filled the doorway almost entirely, and the way he stood there as if uncertain of his reception made her think back to their very first meeting. He had affected her even then, though she wouldn’t have admitted it for a million pounds.
“Maxwell. How unexpected.”
He seemed grim, his eyes withdrawn from her somehow. A warning flickered in her belly. “My apologies for stopping by unannounced. I meant to send a note. I was home visiting with Papa, and it seemed more expedient to call on you personally.”
“Please do not apologize. I am happy to see you.” Nervous, but happy. Why did she feel as if butterflies were at war with one another in her stomach? Smoothing a hand down her skirt, she said, “Won’t you come in? Would you like tea?”
“No, thank you. I have to be leaving shortly.” He walked into the room slowly, hesitantly. He’d given his hat and gloves to Huxley, so he obviously intended to stay for a few minutes. She couldn’t figure out why he was acting so strange, unless he was as anxious about their kiss as she was.
Huxley backed out of the room, leaving the door open as was proper. Still, a pleasant tingling moved over her skin at being somewhat alone with him. She sat back down on the settee, moving the piles of papers spread out there to the table before her. She had been preparing for the arrival of the women who served on the board of the London Home for Young Women. They were going to help her get ready for her meeting with Sir Phineas at the end of the week to discuss the purchase.
“Please have a seat.” He surprised her by sitting next to her on the settee, making her realize how small the piece of furniture actually was. When he turned toward her, his knees almost touched hers. “Is something wrong?”
He paused, taking in a breath. She couldn’t help but watch his mouth, remembering how soft his lips had been on hers. “Your father visited me last night.”
“Oh dear God.” She covered her mouth with her hands as soon as the words were out. She could well imagine what he had said to Maxwell. No wonder he was aloof and withdrawn this afternoon. “I am sorry. Was he unspeakably rude? He had no right to—”
He reached out and took her hand, making her realize that she’d been gesturing excessively with it. “No, Helena, it’s fine. I can’t deny that it was a bit tense. We clearly do not see eye to eye on many issues. However, it went much better than I expected. If you can believe it, he tentatively gave his blessing on our courtship.”
No, she could not believe it. Her father was stodgy and old-fashioned, and he had plainly said that he did not appreciate vulgar wealth. “I don’t, actually.”
He flashed a grin. “He invited me to a party at Claremont Hall. Apparently, it’s an annual tradition.”
She couldn’t have been more shocked had he told her he had first-hand knowledge of the sea monster in Loch Ness. “I cannot believe it. How? Why?” At his expression of mock insult, she laughed. “I am glad of it, of course I am. I simply can hardly fathom it.”
“Perhaps we’ve given the old man too little credit. He cares for you deeply, Helena.” He squeezed her hand and then let it go. She drew it back to her lap, feeling unreasonably bereft at the loss of his touch. “He appreciated the way I took your side against those people saying horrible things about your charity. He believes that you need a strong man willing to challenge such opinions, and he believes I could be that man.”
“Oh . . . that’s rather unexpected.” Her father was a cold man at the best of times, never revealing his true feelings on anything, if he even had feelings. She was touched to learn that his affection for her outweighed his abhorrence of Maxwell not being titled or even a proper gentleman.
The hint of a grin lingered about his mouth. “He’s right, you know. I can and will stand up to them for you.”
The way his gaze swept her face made a blush steal over her, which was ridiculous. She was a widow, not a debutante in her first Season. Still, she glanced down at the pale green and gold embroidery of the settee. “I do appreciate you doing that. It isn’t my intention that you feel the need to intervene every time someone says something careless.”
“But I want to.”
“Thank you.”
His eyes met hers, and it was almost like a physical touch. He meant what he said, and she felt the same sense of belonging she had felt the night of the music performance. It was the both of them together against all the rest. That was a feeling she hadn’t had in a very long time, since before Arthur had died. Unfortunately, their relationship by the end had changed from what it had once been. He had retreated from her, justifiably wounded and upset by their inability to have a child. Ever since, there had been a sense of loneliness about her, lurking around the edges of her life. Even filling her time with the orphanage, the new venture, and friends hadn’t made it go away completely.