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Chapter Twenty-One
“At last,” Nicholas intoned, sliding close enough to Helen that their legs touched on the settee. His father had just fallen asleep in his armchair in the drawing room, and Pen was curled up with a book over on the Turkish cushions. His mother had retired to her studio to paint.
Helen discreetly slipped her hand against his. “Good evening,” she said in an intimate tone, as if they hadn’t spent dinner and the last hour together in this room.
“Good evening, Helen.” He smiled. “How soon can we leave?”
She glanced over to where his father was snoring, but when she looked back at him, she shrugged. “My monthly has arrived,” she whispered.
“Ah.” Not having received an outright rejection, he persisted. “Shall we wait for Pen to fall asleep or excuse ourselves now?”
She blinked. “Did you understand my meaning? I…”
“I did. Should you like some privacy, I’ll understand. But allow me to accompany you home at least.”
Craning her neck for a moment to spy Pen, she smiled. “She’s asleep!”
As soon as they were in the carriage, she nestled into his side, right into the spot that had become hers and where they fit together like two pieces made for each other. He rubbed his lips against her temple, determined to make it past her front door tonight, monthly visitor or not.
Just before they made the last turn onto her street, he squeezed her hand. “I was hoping to speak to you about something tonight when we had privacy.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, sounding curious.
Farnworth opened the door and welcomed them both back. Accustomed to Nicholas’s visits, the butler had unflinchingly adapted to the new routine.
Nicholas and Helen settled into the forest-green settee across and she watched him quietly, so quietly that he realized perhaps she was nervous about whatever subject he intended to raise.
“Adrian called on me at the office today.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Your brother?”
Nodding, he inhaled sharply. “He’s not doing well, I’m afraid.”
“I’m so sorry.” She froze before sitting up straighter. “He must want to return here, to his house. I’ll—“
“No. He won’t be staying in London. I don’t know when he’ll be ready to return for good. He’s not convinced he ever will. In any case, there’s no question of you leaving this house. Adrian wouldn’t displace you. No—truly. He barely lived here before he left. It’s not home. Were he to stay, we’d find him someplace else.”
“He and his wife lived elsewhere, your mother said?”
“After Lady Sarah passed away, he couldn’t remain in that house. He no sooner purchased this one, though, than he fled London altogether.”
“He’s heartbroken by the loss,” she said sadly.
“It’s more complicated than that. Heismourning his wife, yes. He and Lady Sarah were married for five years, and I don’t think even I understood how close they had grown. At first, well…they were outright strangers. Perhaps Pen shared with you how the marriage came about?”
She lifted one shoulder, and it made him want to kiss the side of her neck—so he did, enjoying her light shudder.
“Your parents wanted Adrian to marry an aristocrat?”
With the weighty subject at hand, he didn’t smile, but he wanted to—Helen had sounded breathless and her gaze didn’t leave his lips.
“Indeed. As the eldest, everyone expected Adrian to follow in my father’s footsteps in shipping. It was also his duty to elevate my parents’ social status by marrying a lord’s daughter.”
“I see. What wereyouexpected to do?”
He shrugged. “Fulfill whatever duties at Sideris & Co. were convenient to my father and brother.”
“Did you ever want to be part of the family business?”
