The weight of bitter disappointment swelled in her chest. In an attempt she knew smacked of desperation, she said, “But we could maneuver to have it gifted anonymously—”
“Now, darling, I understand you’re disappointed and with good reason. Perhaps you could open next winter and use the interim to get your own house in order, if you will.”
“What do you mean?” Though Helena was quite certain she knew what the impertinent woman meant. Her own mother barely let a week go by without bringing up her lack of a husband.
“Another marriage, darling. My second marriage was the best thing I ever did. Kept me young, and then little Janie came along after I had thought I was done with children.” The woman raised a brow and glanced down to Helena’s midsection.
“I see you’ve been talking to Mama.” Helena could barely unclench her jaw to mutter the words. Despite herself, she put a shielding hand over her stomach. Ever since her wedding over seven years ago, people had been casting eyes in that direction. First it had been in expectation, but after Arthur’s untimely death five years ago, the looks had changed to pity and regret.
“We only want what’s best for you, Helena. I happen to agree with your mother. A husband would go a long way to giving your charity an air of respectability. With the right man behind you—”
“Good evening, ladies.”
Without her even realizing that he was coming over, the object of their previous scrutiny stood next to her. His voice was as potent as the rest of him. Smooth as an aged whisky, but rich like coffee. Heat emanated from his body, warming her left side. The way he stood next to her blocked her from the rest of the room because the screen was on her other side. It made her feel closed in, but it was a pleasant sensation. She still froze, however, reluctant for some unknown reason to make eye contact.
“Mr. Crenshaw, how is your father?” Lady Blaylock asked.
“Well, thankfully.”
As he went on with the health update—one she had heard earlier from Mrs. Crenshaw—Helena allowed herself to take him in. His boots were polished to a high shine, and the tailoring on his trousers was divine, giving the barest hint of the press of muscle against the fabric. His coat sleeves began precisely a quarter inch above the edge of his shirtsleeves, but her gaze caught on his fingers. Strong but elegant as he gently cradled a snifter of brandy.
She was stalling because she didn’t want to see cool politeness on his face. Their meeting a few days ago at his parents’ house had been anything but what she had hoped. While she had spent a considerable amount of time thinking about him in the ensuing months, he had obviously not felt the same. The way he had looked at her so dispassionately had made her suspect as much. His cool politeness tonight had reinforced her suspicion. It seemed that her memory had exaggerated the attraction on his part.
To look into his eyes up close and not see warmth beyond the merest suggestion of friendship reflected back at her would confirm it. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t matter so much, but she felt particularly raw after her conversation with Lady Blaylock.
“It must have been such a shock to hear of his condition,” Lady Blaylock said. “And you all the way in New York. I rather hoped that he might come tonight, but alas, I was too optimistic. Your poor mother. I know well her heartache.” Without giving him time to respond, the woman launched into a story about her first husband and his heart problems.
Unable to postpone the inevitable any longer, Helena gave him a smile that she hoped conveyed that she was sorry he’d been pulled into one of the woman’s long-winded stories. To her immense pleasure, his deep brown eyes shined back at her, intense and with just enough heat to make her breath catch. Some silent message was conveyed in the look, but she didn’t understand what it was.
“Thank you, Lady Blaylock,” he said when the woman had paused for a breath. “I appreciate your well-wishes.”
She gave a demure nod of acknowledgment.
Grateful for the break, Helena wasted no time in speaking. “I trust Mr. Crenshaw will make a full recovery.”
His eyes seemed to harden a bit, almost like they had been on the stairs of his parents’ home, but his voice was unchanged. Something must have happened with his father, she realized.
“Yes,” he said. “He’s a little stronger every day.”
“Splendid. That is reassuring,” the older woman said.
Clearing his throat, he turned fully toward Helena. “Lady Helena, I hoped for an update on your home for women and children. Have you found your location yet?”
“Not yet—”
Helena began her answer, but before she could continue, Lady Blaylock asked, “You know about her charity project?”
“We spoke at length about it in the spring.” When he had come to her home to visit Violet was left unsaid. “She asked about real estate, since Crenshaw Iron owns many properties that I manage. I was impressed by her knowledge and ambition, so much so that I made a contribution.”
“Thank you again for that.” The pledge had come quite by surprise about a month after he had returned to New York. She had written a letter of thanks immediately, though she had wondered at his motives. He hadn’t seemed particularly charitable in the time she had known him in London. “Your generosity is very much appreciated.”
“You donated to her charity?” Lady Blaylock said the words almost under her breath, in awe. Had she a monocle it would have come out as she looked him up and down again. “How very noble of you.”
He grinned at her. “I think anyone who would neglect to contribute to Lady Helena’s causes is imprudent. I am certain someone as dignified and judicious as yourself has contributed as well.”
Helena had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at his impertinence. He had obviously overheard some of their conversation. Lady Blaylock opened and closed her mouth a few times before she seemed to gather herself and smile. Looking at Helena, she said, “Oh, I do approve of him, Helena.” Tapping his arm with her empty snifter, she left them alone.
“What does she mean by that?” he asked, an attractive husk in his lowered voice implying an intimacy that had the muscles low in her midsection clenching.
“Oh . . . I . . . um . . .” She meant to say that the woman was a known matchmaker and to pay her no attention, but as soon as her gaze met his, all words came to a stop. His eyes were alight with knowledge, but he was daring her to put voice to what had been throbbing between them since the very first. She couldn’t do it. If she did, she knew with utter certainty that she wouldn’t be able to ignore it any longer. “Ignore her.”
“I hope I haven’t caused any awkwardness. I eavesdropped.” Despite his words, he didn’t appear the least bit sheepish as he smiled at her.