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He tilted his head, concern in his eyes. “What are you saying?”
She took both of his hands in hers. “I’m thankful for everything you and your family have done for me—I am! It’s been…wonderful being on your pedestal. But I won’t survive the fall this time. I have to leave before that happens.”
“Not without me, Helen. If America is where you need to go, I’ll go, too.”
“What?” she whispered. “But your family!”
“I love them—and they’ll always be my family—but I won’t let them come between us. You are my future. You and our children will be my family.”
A sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth. This man was prepared to sacrifice a tremendous amount for her, making her heart soar. When had anyone been willing to do that? Loved her so much he would trade life as he knew it?
Elijah, she remembered, the thought sobering. That had not turned out well.
“I’ll never forget your generosity, Nicholas. I’ll never forgetyou. But no, I cannot ask that of you. I can’t do that to your mother and Pen!”
“It won’t be easy. Often life isn’t. We both know that.”
Panic gripped her as she thought of Henrietta Davies, an acquaintance in Boston, who, years into her marriage, hadn’t produced a child and was subjected to cruel and pitying looks and comments. Helen had received the same treatment from Society matrons and been able to dismiss it—she’d known why she wasn’t with child.
But what if she was barren, like Henrietta?
“Nicholas, we can’t assume we would have children. Imagine if you sailed all the way to America—giving up everything—only to find that investing in me was like investing in the tea venture.”
“You’re not a venture, Helen! You’re the woman I love!”
“Your father has plans for me. You have plans for me. I have plans for me! Nicholas, I wish to have a family.Yourchildren. But when have wishes and plans ever amounted to anything for me? I cannot bear your disappointment. Your family’s.”
Face set grimly, he searched her gaze, then stilled. “You’re speaking as if you’ve resolved to leave England. Alone. Have you forgotten you could be expecting this very moment?”
She sank back against the cushion, overwhelmed. If she were with child, staying in London and marrying was the only right choice under the circumstances. Her child deserved a family and required resources. Keeping the child from Nicholas would be immoral.
Being compelled into marriage this way sparked some measure of panic in her, but in her heart, whatever her misgivings, she harbored hope that having a family with Nicholas would be an opportunity for healing and happiness.
Don’t be foolish!You don’t wish the burden of being a bridge—it’s especially unfair to expect that of a child.
“If I’m expecting, I’ll stay in London and accept your proposal.”
“My proposal stands, whether or not you’re expecting! Do you know how improbable it was for us ever to have met in this life? Born on opposite sides of the world. Both sailing to England decades apart. You had little reason to hope my firm would invest in your venture, but you contacted us anyway. Damn it, Helen, when you all but trespassed into my office that first day, I could have had an employee cast you out without ever laying eyes on you! I should have! But meet we did, despite the odds.”
She couldn’t help her small laugh. “If you were Mr. Macalester, and I was Pen, we would be discussing a formula to calculate the probability of our meeting.”
One side of his mouth lifted, but his voice was serious. “I don’t need an exact figure to know that a divine hand was at play. God. Fate. Whatever you wish to call it. You say you’re grateful for it—as am I. Well, let us not cast away the fortune that’s been given to us. You’re a miracle to me, Helen.”
His words cast a spell on her, and it was the very power of it that animated her defenses.
Nicholas was a good man—she didn’t believe him to be like Patrick Archer. But his belief in his own words and his infatuation with her blinded him to her faults. How long could that last? Not indefinitely, and when he was finally disappointed in her—when she became too much for him, or he realized how odd she was, how boring—then would come the disdain. The Grays had heaped it upon her.
Or perhaps he’d simply ignore her, as her father had.
Helen slid into the corner of the carriage, knowing she had to distance herself from Nicholas and his persuasions.
“Then it’s fitting we leave this to the Fates, Nicholas. We’ll know soon enough if I’m with child. If I’m not, we’ll know it’s not meant to be.”
“The hell we will! I know how Ifeel. You know how you feel! You said earlier you love me. I don’t want to premise the outcome of our lives on whether a single night resulted in a child!”
“I do,” she countered immediately, the lie evident to them both.
“I would rather have a lifetime, but if this kind of test is what you want, give me a year in your bed. Between your thighs. Not just a single night.”
