She knew that she needed to speak, to say something—anything—but her tongue felt as if it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thankfully, the butler walked in as soon as Sir Phineas delivered the scotch to Maxwell. “Sir Phineas, dinner is ready.”
“Perfect timing. Shall we?” He gestured to them both, and the butler led them to the dining room.
Maxwell waited for her, moving into step beside her as she walked by him, following the butler. He held himself stiffly, as if he, too, were still in shock. Sir Phineas chattered behind them, but for the life of her she couldn’t pay attention to him with Maxwell’s looming presence next to her. Her entire right side felt warm.
The dining room was like the rest of the house with its dark wood paneling and furniture. Only here the wallpaper started halfway up the wall and was a rich brown instead of red. A beautiful chandelier lit the room, filled with beeswax candles instead of being a gas fixture. Candelabras were set at each end of the table. The candlelight lent the space an even more intimate feel than the rest of the house.
“Sir Phineas? A moment please?” the butler asked as soon as they entered the room.
“If you please.” Sir Phineas indicated the table and that he would be back in a moment, and they were suddenly left alone.
Helena was too focused on Maxwell to care. He assumed the position of host with no footman present and held her chair out for her. His face was like stone. She wished she knew what he was thinking. “Thank you,” she said as she sat.
He leaned down as he pushed her chair in. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a low voice, as his breath tickled her ear. His tone was harsh with a soft, serrated edge that might have hinted at desperation. She couldn’t be certain without seeing his eyes. It didn’t matter. She knew then that he would not give up the priory to her.
“The same thing you’re doing here,” she answered, taking in an inadvertent inhale of his scent. It made everything inside her light up in excitement, even though it was most inappropriate given the situation.
“You know that August needs this.”
She stared at him aghast as he walked around the table to take the chair across from her. “How was I supposed to know that the priory I found was a part of your industrial compound? Violet only mentioned that you were interested in a nearby metalworks.”
His jaw still seemed tight as he sat, but he inclined his head. “Very well. You’re right. You couldn’t have known, because we never went into specifics. Now that you do know, will you do the right thing and leave off?”
“The right thing?” Impotent anger rose inside her so fast that she almost raised her voice. She had never raised her voice to anyone. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and then said, “Me? You should leave off. I need the priory and the residence for the families who will go cold this winter without it.”
“Dammit, Helena.” His hand on the table clenched into a fist, and his stern expression leveled on her.
They always seemed to quarrel to a small degree, and she enjoyed riling him. That was the only way to explain the satisfaction that wound through her at the physical evidence of her effect on him now. He was like a lion, powerful and magnificent in his ire, but she never felt afraid of him. She never felt that his bite would wound her. Even when real anger was involved, their spats were playacting. God help her, she wanted to be his plaything.
The thought shocked her, stealing the breath right from her lungs. Had she no shame? This is the same man who had practically booted her from his life the moment he’d got what he wanted. She hadn’t heard another word from him since his visit earlier in the week to tell her that now things were settled and they needn’t bother with being seen together.
“Damn yourself!” The words burst out of her as soon as she could get her breath back. His eyes widened in surprise. “You with your infinite funding, you can purchase any building you want. Why should I be the one to give up the home that so many people need so desperately?”
“I cannot purchase any building I want. Like anyone else, I am bound—” He broke off as the door swung open and Sir Phineas returned, leading a footman. Maxwell’s furrowed brow indicated that the conversation was far from over.
“My apologies for that,” Sir Phineas said. “There was a minor mishap in the kitchen, but all is well.” Taking his seat at the head of the table, he didn’t seem to notice the tension between his guests as the butler hurried to pour sherry for them.
“No apologies necessary, Sir Phineas,” she said. The footman set a bowl of turtle soup before her. “It was good to chat with Mr. Crenshaw in your absence.” At least she knew where they both stood now.
“What a marvelous coincidence that you two have met. How long have you known each other? It can’t be very long. You’ve only just come to town, haven’t you, Mr. Crenshaw?” Apparently, the man did not pay attention to the scandal sheets or he would have read all about their courtship.
“We met in the spring. I . . .” Maxwell hesitated, and Helena disguised a smile at his discomfort by bringing a spoonful of soup to her mouth. Their history was somewhat complicated if one didn’t want to explain the entire fiasco of Violet running away from an arranged marriage. “I was here in June for my sister’s marriage to Lord Leigh.”
“Ah yes, I read about their marriage in the papers. A belated congratulations to your sister and her husband.” If he had read about the accompanying scandal, he was too kind to say.
Maxwell nodded, but then his gaze held hers and she had trouble looking away. “I met Helena then. She had befriended my sisters.”
He insisted on using her first name without her title. Did that mean he would reveal their supposed courtship?
“What brings you back to London? Is it solely Crenshaw Iron Works?” Sir Phineas asked.
“My father fell ill.” When the man was quick to offer his condolences, Maxwell added, “But he’s improving. I’ve had to lend a hand to my sister who has been running things while he recovers.”
Sir Phineas’s eyebrow rose at the mention of August, but to his credit, he didn’t comment. “Then you have been busy. I understand now your need for haste. You probably want to get this settled before returning home.”
Maxwell relaxed visibly. “Yes, that is my hope. We’re keeping our father as calm as possible, and—laws being as they are for married women—the company would prefer my father or I sign the purchase contracts.”
One of the best reasons to remain a widow. Helena was able to sign for herself without a man’s approval. Knowing this, why was she feeling so irritated with Maxwell’s coolness toward her? She didn’t understand it. That frustration combined with her earlier irritation made her say, “You might as well know, Sir Phineas, that Maxwell and I have been . . . we’ve begun a courtship of sorts.” Adding of sorts was as close to the truth as she could get. She mainly confessed to their relationship to see how Maxwell would react, but she also felt that it would be unfair to not reveal it, especially since it was well-documented in the papers. If Sir Phineas read about it later and they hadn’t confessed now, he might feel misled.