Perhaps he was maintaining distance to make it seem as if nothing had happened between them. Nothing had happened between them. In their days up North, he had been the perfect gentleman, and his concern for Violet had been at the forefront. However, after Violet had been safely found and married, rumors had begun to circulate. No one knew for certain that Helena had accompanied him. She trusted her servants not to betray her whereabouts, but they had been seen together at the train station, and Violet had stayed with her for the week leading up to her wedding.
It was enough for speculation. Never in polite circles, of course, but sometimes people would give them a second look. Gossip never lived long when its object of prey was out of sight, so the talk had died a slow death when he returned to New York. But now that he was back, more than one eyebrow had been raised in their direction at dinner.
“My dear, forgive my impertinence, but if you would like to carry off this charade, then at least pretend to be indifferent to him.” This came from Lady Blaylock, who stood next to her, a close friend of Helena’s mother.
Helena only realized she was staring at Mr. Crenshaw when the woman spoke. Her face heated as she averted her gaze from the man across the drawing room to Lady Blaylock. They were partially shielded from the other guests by a Japanese screen. Perhaps that was why Helena had allowed herself the indulgence of looking at him. Lady Blaylock, however, continued her perusal of him. If she had a quizzing glass, Helena was sure she would have raised it to her eye.
“There is no charade.” Helena smiled serenely.
The older woman giggled and then gave her an indulgent smile. “Fine, I have tried to pull the details from your mother to no avail. She is a terrible gossip, so I suppose if there were some truth to your having run off with that young man, it would have come to light by now.”
“You have known me since before I could walk, ma’am. You should know there is no truth to those tales.”
“It is precisely because I know you that I question.” Lady Blaylock gave her a pointed look. “You are not like your sisters, Helena. You have spirit and follow your own mind.”
“My own mind tells me that it would be the height of impropriety to run off with a bachelor.” Too bad she didn’t always heed her own good sense.
“Yes, I suppose so.” Lady Blaylock sounded mildly disappointed as she swiveled her head back to peer at the men across the room. “The young Mr. Crenshaw is charming in a rustic sort of way, isn’t he, though? Strapping.” Then her head tilted to the side and downward as if she were looking at where his muscled thighs pressed against the fabric of his trousers. “Robust.”
Helena bit the inside of her lip to hide her laugh at the woman’s enthusiasm. She knew exactly what Lady Blaylock meant. It was that same juxtaposition that had first caught her eye. He held himself like a gentleman, but there was a hint of the untamed about him. Something she couldn’t quite specify. He was mannered and stylish, but no matter how he tried, he would never be as polished as his brothers-in-law. And yet, there was an elegance in his ruggedness. He was different but just as refined somehow.
“Quite,” she said, hoping to change the subject. She had spent all evening trying to finagle it so that she had Lady Blaylock to herself, and she wasn’t about to allow the moment to slip through her fingers. Clearing a throat suddenly gone tight with nerves, she said, “Actually, I’ve been hoping to take a moment to discuss your pledge to the home.”
The London Home for Young Women was a project born from Helena’s days volunteering with an orphanage. Many of the children left in the orphanage’s care came from women who were unable to keep their children due to the fact that they worked six days a week, and often twelve-hour days or even longer if one counted the fact that they often held multiple jobs. Most of the women had no family to care for the children, and the scarce wages they earned hardly paid for their own needs. The home—once a suitable location was acquired—would be a place of refuge. The women could live there with their children and provide childcare in turns to allow themselves to work. Helena also hoped to provide education for the children and women who wanted it, as well as job training. It was early stages, yet, but fundraising had been going well until recently.
“Yes, of course, darling. I’m glad you brought that up.” Lady Blaylock took a short breath and pulled her eyes from the incomparable Mr. Crenshaw, the lines bracketing her mouth deepening. “I am afraid there will be a delay with my funding.”
“A delay?” Helena’s heart sank. This was not the first time in the past months that a mysterious delay had been used as an excuse to not follow through on a pledge to the charity.
“Lower than expected returns or some such excuse. I barely listen to my solicitor when he talks, particularly when the accountant is involved. Suffice it to say that I must defer my contribution until next summer. You know my dear Janie is coming out next Season. I must see to her first.”
“First?” Lady Blaylock could not be implying that financing Janie’s season depended upon her delaying the contribution. Her second husband had been a very successful financier who had left her quite wealthy after his death.
The woman had the grace to look sheepish. A slight blush tinged the apples of her cheeks. “Well, you have to know how some view this venture.”
Helena did know. Many of their beneficiaries were unwed mothers. Some were widows, but most had given birth to their children outside of marriage. Her own father had raised his quiet objection by pointing out that proper Society matrons would not countenance helping fallen women. It bewildered her how giving birth outside of marriage meant they were unworthy of help in the eyes of many, when they were the ones who needed it most. They were the ones shunned by their families and those who would support them otherwise.
Women were doomed to be defined by not only the children they could or could not bear, but the timing and method in which they bore them. Children before marriage and it was ruin and condemnation. None at all and it was pity and scorn. The only acceptable time to have children was after marriage, and even then it better not take too long or the scandal sheets would write about it. Helena had been burned by the gossips when her own marriage had failed to produce children. Helping these women helped her to feel that she was taking back control, at least in this one small way.
Lady Blaylock patted the back of Helena’s hand. “I don’t agree with them, mind you, but I understand the need for keeping up appearances. I will gladly contribute once my dear Janie has made her match and to Hades with the naysayers.”
She chuckled to cover her nervousness, and Helena swallowed as anxiety swirled within her. The woman wouldn’t help because she didn’t want to risk a smudge on her daughter’s coming-out. Thanks to the Earl of Leigh’s generosity—he’d sold a smaller estate in Scotland and donated the funds to the charity—they were in a position to purchase a building, but that didn’t cover the renovations any building would undoubtedly need to transform it into a home that would house at least fifty women and their children, with an addition of a school and a workroom to teach the women various skills, or the day-to-day operational costs. What had been a robust ledger after his donation was slowly dwindling as more and more people delayed their funding. It was looking as if they would have to wait to open the home to the neglect of all the women and children she knew needed help now.