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“You flatter me, Your Grace.”
“Theodore,” he corrected. “I said I would like you to call me Theodore.”
He liked it when Helen called him by his first name. It rolled off her tongue just right, giving it a rather exotic ring that made him feel much more special. Also, it awakened an unbridled desire in his mind that ran down his spine and filled his groin with pressure.
“Theodore,” she righted herself. “Our interests align. Maybe that is why we enjoy each other’s company. Because we are more comfortable with one another.”
“And we are both interested in literature. There are almost endless things to talk about other than marriage. That is mostly why I enjoy your company.”
Helen stopped herself from screaming. She enjoyed his company, but it seemed he only liked her because of their similar interests in literary works and nothing else. However, she enjoyed his company because she yearned for him. She wanted to be with him, their lips in a seductive embrace. But she thrust those feelings aside.
“So, what did you bring?” she asked, righting herself on the sofa.
“Bring?”
“Yes, Theodore. What did you bring?” she asked and gestured to the pile of gifts in the corner beside Aunt Gertrude.
“It’s not for public eyes,” he said, smiling wickedly.
Theodore had indeed brought a gift. It had taken a great deal for Perceval to find as the seller moved to a more discreet location. Theodore wished Helen’s aunt was not watching them so closely. He wanted to be with Helen alone, just like he had in the gardens, but he had no idea if she wanted to be alone with him. She had not been suggestive since they met, and Helen had kept to herself all the time she was in his estate.
He slipped his hand into his shirt and brought out a small package. It was wrapped in patterned paper, just like he requested. Theodore handed it over to her, watching her expression shift from elation to confusion.
“And what might this be?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“Something you would like,” he replied. “Took me a great deal to find. But special anyway.”
Helen stared at him, wondering if his expression would give her a hint, but he remained stoic as always. She hid the package in the folds of her dress and smiled at him. He was truly concerned about making their arrangement work. Helen hoped that thetonwould look at them like they hoped. Like star-crossed lovers who were greatly in love with one another.
“I am afraid my time here is up,” he said and rose to his full height, towering over Helen even though she shot to her feet. “I should give the other suitors some time with you as well. Even though it saddens me so.”
“Before I forget, Theodore,” Helen began, happy that she was getting used to calling his name, “my father has asked that you grace us with your presence for dinner.”
“It will be my pleasure. I hope there will be cake,” he replied with a wink.
“Very well. Cake will be served for dessert like always. Here, I was thinking you might prefer something less sweet.”
He laughed. “I love sweets. Still recall the times my Grandmother punished me for taking them without permission.”
Helen felt herself pulled to him, the desire gripping her stomach. She understood why the mamas would not let him rest. He was handsome with the right connections and a lot of wealth.
She blinked herself from her daze, but he was already gone. Helen quickly hid the package behind her back and pretended to feel faint.
“I must retire to my chambers for today,” she told her aunt. “My strength has waned considerably. Perhaps you can help me disperse the rest of the suitors.”
Her aunt scowled, and Helen only wore a more tired look. Aunt Gertrude gave in and went to disperse the remaining suitors. Helen heard them complain, but she did not care for she was already racing up the stairs to her room.
To stow away the gift that Theodore brought and keep it from prying eyes.
ChapterSixteen
Aunt Gertrude was pacing around the drawing room impatiently, barking out orders to the maids as they scurried about in preparations for dinner. Helen knew that the dinner was meant to be an informal one like she had suggested to her father.
But watching the maids run around in fear made Helen decide not to interfere. So, she sat sheepishly in a corner, adjusting her dress several times to make sure she looked presentable, even though her lady’s maid, Sonya, told her that she looked very beautiful.
“Mrs. Weekes, is the braised lamb ready?” Aunt Gertrude barked to the housekeeper, and the poor woman nodded before scampering off to the kitchens.
“Is that braised lamb I hear?” Helen asked, finally voicing out her opinions even if she knew that she might regret it. “It is an informal dinner, Aunt Gertrude.”
