He stopped talking and bent his head as shame flooded him. He couldn’t say the next, he never had. Not to his mother, not to anyone.
Helena brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “You gambled more,” she said softly, filling in the things he could not bring himself to say. “You tried to fix the damage using the same tools your father had to make it. And I assume it failed.”
He nodded without looking at her. “Yes. Though I did clear a few debts, I also incurred more. I stopped after a few months, but the damage was done. By him. By me.”
Her breath went out in a shuddering sound that mimicked the one inside his head at all times. “It must be terrible for you.”
He dared to look up at last and found her staring back at him. She was care and empathy and support personified. But he wasn’t finished yet.
“I’m telling you this, not for your sympathy,” he said slowly. “But because I must. I am not the kind of man who goes around kissing young ladies in a garden. I would normally not be so reckless, but the moment I saw you on the terrace at the ball, I was drawn to you. When I look at you I want…well, I simply want. But there are still outstanding debts I cannot even find and a future that can be fixed in only one way. So I…I can’t pursue what I want. I must do what I need to do, no matter how much I don’t want to.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and she nodded. “You must marry for money.”
He wanted to howl when she said it. He wanted to turn away from the disgust that would shortly flow over her face. Only it didn’t. Her expression remained calm and unreadable.
“Yes,” he choked out.
“You have so much weight on your shoulders,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke her hand over one of them.
“Much of which I put there myself,” he said. “I did this.”
“Not alone,” she reminded him, her grip tightening on his arm. He stared at her, and for a moment just a tiny fraction of the weight that he carried lessened. He could breathe again.
But it couldn’t last. “Either way, the result is the same.”
She was very still, and then she slowly slid her hand away. His body mourned the loss. “I understand. I must confess to you that I don’t like it.”
“No?” he whispered.
She smiled, a sad and small expression that hit him in the stomach. “If my reaction to the kiss didn’t spell it out to you, let me be clear. I want, too, Baldwin. I’ve been shocked by how deeply I felt connected to you, even after that first night. But I’ve known my position for a long time. I never assumed it would or even could be elevated. That wasn’t my purpose in coming here. So it seems we must just be…friends.”
Pain ripped through him at that kind offer. One he didn’t deserve but meant so very much to him. “I would be honored to be your friend, Helena Monroe.”
She stood and he followed her to her feet. She slid her hand through his elbow and smiled up at him. He could see the lie in that expression. The pain behind it. It mirrored his own, but what was there to do? Life was not fair.
He knew that very well.
“Then we shall be friends,” she said, and motioned to the house. “It will be enough.”
He nodded as he began to guide her back to the house and the party within. But with every step, he felt the weight of her fingers around his bicep. The warmth of her body beside him. He felt the relief that confession had given to him. Not just confession to anyone, but to this woman who had inspired his trust so easily.
And he knew being her friend was not enough. Could never be enough. But it was the only option.
Chapter Nine
“Do you have any news to report?”
Baldwin had been staring into his tea, stirring it aimlessly, but now his mother’s voice broke into his fog and he jerked his head up to look at her. He found her watching him, concern in every line of her face.
“News?” he asked. “Regarding?”
“It’s been a week since your sister’s gathering,” the duchess said, flexing her hands open and shut in a nervous display. “I know you’ve gone to a few parties since then and I haven’t been to all of them. I was simply wondering if you’d enjoyed the company of any of our—our prospects?”
Baldwin paused before responding, for his mind was consumed with only one woman: Helena. Since Charlotte’s party, since their passionate kiss in the garden, all there had been was her. And though he couldn’t explain the full truth to his mother, that was a big part of why he couldn’t concentrate on anyone or anything else.
“You know how the beginning of the Season is,” he explained with a wave of his hand. “A crush, everyone circling. In a few weeks it will calm down and I’ll be able to find more time to approach each lady individually.”
His mother’s lips pursed. “Baldwin, I do worry so.”
Tension flooded him, pleasant thoughts of Helena fading into the background at last. “I know. I’m sorry. I do not have any intention of not doing as you wish.”
“Of course you don’t,” the duchess said, reaching out to touch his arm. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” She paced away, and for a moment Baldwin thought the conversation might be at its end. But then she turned back, determination lining her expression. “I think we ought to have a country party.”
He leaned back. “A country party? Now?”
“Yes,” she said. “A week would be enough time to let the servants out in Sheffield plan. It’s only two-day ride for anyone we would invite in London.”
“And you want to get these prospects alone,” he said, folding his arms and spearing her with a hard glance.
She shook her head. “You needn’t sound so ominous! They wouldn’t be alone. We would invite others. To only invite the prospects would be too obvious. I would invite your married friends.”
“Far less obvious, yes,” he snorted.
She glared at him. “I hear told that the Earl of Grifford is back on the market after his wife’s death. I could invite him. He’s older and he won’t interfere with your goals. And Matthew or Hugh or—well, not Robert. He’ll just ruin all the young ladies he comes in contact with.”
Baldwin stared in shock. She was not incorrect in her assessment of Robert, Duke of Roseford. Aside from being a loyal friend and an incredibly intelligent mind, he was also known as a rake of the highest order. Still, one didn’t expect a lady to acknowledge that fact.
“You mean to invite gentlemen who you don’t believe will intrude upon my various courtships,” he said.
Her lips parted. “I know it all sounds mercenary and I don’t like it any more than you do. Your sister married the love of her life—I’m not immune to the fact that life is demanding you not be allowed to do the same.”
Once again, Baldwin flashed to images of Helena, her arms coming around him as she murmured out a deep sound of pleasure. He cleared his throat. “Most don’t get as lucky as our Charlotte,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.