“Helena, dear, why don’t you take some time with your Maxwell before joining us in the drawing room?” Mama came up behind her and put a gentle hand on her arm as they walked from the dining room. A knowing smile touched her features.
“Are you certain?” Helena had planned to sneak away before bed like they had last time.
Mama nodded and leaned closer. “The man is leaving tomorrow. I am not so rigid that I cannot understand you might want a moment of privacy to say goodbye. Only a moment, mind you. Take a stroll through the gallery before joining us.”
Max was already standing, clearly having no intention of staying to smoke and drink with the men. Mama patted Helena’s hand and followed the other women out. A moment later, Max had replaced her at Helena’s side.
“Is now a good time for you?” he asked.
No. She didn’t want to have this discussion with him, but there was no hope for it. She put her hand on his arm and gave him a tight smile. Without realizing that she was taking them there, she led him toward the room where she had found him last night. Along the way, she asked, “How did the rest of your meeting go?”
“Not well.” His jaw was tight as he studied the paintings they passed. “All this talk of legacy has made me think very hard about the reputation I want to leave behind, for myself, the Crenshaw name, and the ironworks. It doesn’t involve dishonorable contracts and exploitative labor.”
“What can you do about it? I assume your father still has a large stake in the company?”
He was silent for a moment as they walked, as if weighing the burden of what he meant to say. “August and I talked before dinner. We’re thinking about calling for a vote if we can’t make him see reason.”
“A vote to unseat him?”
“Yes, potentially. I don’t want any part of the India expansion if it can’t be done with some sense of fairness. I believe that if we invest, we must be only that, investors. We have to allow local leaders the autonomy to manage the project; otherwise, we’re simply exploiting resources, negating the good our railroad might do.”
They had come to a stop as he spoke, his words weighing down their steps.
“That’s . . .” She took in a breath as she considered the real impact of that. “I’m in agreement, but you could very well break your family.”
He nodded, pain evident on his face as he looked at her. “I know. But it’s a break that started when my parents believed marrying off my sisters to be more important than their wishes and what was truly best for them.” He studied her face as if attempting to read her thoughts. “It may very well anger your father.”
She knew he was asking for her agreement in light of that fact. The weight of the betrothal ring sat heavy on her finger. “I think you must do what you feel to be right. I’ll support you.”
His lips twitched in a smile as the lines on his forehead relaxed. She quickly continued walking, leading them into the room. The sky was a bit clearer tonight, so pale moonlight filtered in through the leaded glass windows, casting a pleasant glow over the cozy space. It was rather romantic.
She let go of his arm and walked to the windows. The moon was high above them with only wisps of clouds floating around it. Oh, to be anywhere beneath that moon but here. She took in a deep breath and said, “I am sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I wanted you to know before you left.”
She turned to him only to see him smiling at her. It wasn’t a joyous smile. It was the smile that said he was going to eat her up and make her enjoy it. The same devious grin he had given her last night before he had done just that and buried his face between her thighs. Blushing profusely at the memory, she held a hand up between them even as heat tumbled through her stomach. “That’s not why I brought you here.”
“Then talk.” His grin firmly in place, he proceeded to stalk her as she backed up until her skirts touched the wall.
“How am I supposed to talk with you looking at me that way?”
“Are you saying I’m a distraction? That being alone with me makes you lose your head? Forget your chaste intentions?” He leaned forward, pressing a hand into the wall next to her. His scent very nearly overwhelmed her as he leaned in. It wasn’t only his cologne. It was that she could smell him underneath the fragrance. She could easily source his scent from the artificial now because she had tasted it on his skin and breathed him in.
“Yes, that is precisely what I’m telling you. I have to say this, and you are not helping.”
He leaned forward, almost touching her but not. The heat from his body warmed her front. It was as if he’d unleashed the magnetism he kept bottled up inside him so that she had to fight to keep herself from moving into him. His breath caressed her cheek when he said, “That’s because whatever you have to say will not change the way I feel about you. I want us to be more than this, Helena. I want you in my bed every night and by my side every day.”
A sharp pang tightened her chest, and she covered his mouth only to have him kiss her fingers. “Max, please, you’re not making this any easier.”
“Good, because I believe you are about to tell me all the ways we do not suit, when you know perfectly well that we do.”
“We do suit in many ways. I admit that,” she said. His brown eyes were so warm and hopeful that she had to look away as she scooted past him. Her instinct was to turn up the light, but as soon as she reached the sconce, she stopped. This was a conversation best held in half-light and shadow.
He had turned to stand silently as he watched her. The grin had changed into that delightful scowl she loved so much. Looking at him as she spoke was not an option. Instead, she walked past him and back to the window.
It took her a moment to recall the words she had practiced in her head all afternoon. The only way to make him understand was to tell him about her first marriage. Then he would know why she wasn’t willing to try it again. The first time had been almost too painful to bear; this time—with Max—it would be so much worse. She sensed that if she truly allowed herself to fall in love with him, then his inevitable rejection would shatter her, splintering her into too many tiny fragments to ever be put back together again.
“I was nineteen when I married Arthur. Our family’s friendship stretched back for decades, so we grew up on summer holidays by the sea and winter sleigh rides through the hills. We were friends first, long before we ever even understood what marriage was. He was honorable and good, and when his older brother and mine would play pranks on me and my sisters, he never failed to step in and defend us. He wasn’t like them. He was quiet and kind.”
“I know you must miss him.” Max had walked closer than she had realized. His voice was right behind her, close enough that he could touch her if he chose. Close enough that it vibrated through her when he spoke. “I would never presume to push him from your heart. I only ask for a small piece for myself.”