It opened, but it wasn’t a servant who peeked his head into the darkened chamber. It was Simon. Baldwin groaned.
“What do you want, Crestwood?” he mumbled as he relived last night over and over again, tormenting himself with both the pleasure of what he’d done and the incredible imprudence of it.
Simon strode through his sitting room and into his chamber. “We’re riding, don’t you remember? Were you still abed? I don’t think I’ve ever known you to lollygag around after seven in your entire life.”
Before Baldwin could retort, Simon went to the window and threw the curtains wide, sending a stream of bright sunshine cascading into the room. Baldwin flinched away from it, from the pain it brought. Pain he deserved, it seemed.
Simon stared at him, and the jovial, teasing smile that had been on his face faded slowly. “What is wrong with you? You look like hell.”
Baldwin covered his face. He had kept so many lies from his best friends, his brothers, his family. Right now he had no ability to do so.
“I did something,” he moaned as he dared to look at Simon again.
Simon moved on him, catching his arm gently. “What, what did you do?”
Baldwin turned away, questioning his decision to speak. But then, this was Simon. Simon had pursued his wife, Meg, despite the fact that she’d been engaged to Graham at the time. They had been imprudent with their passions, they’d nearly destroyed themselves and the entire group they called friends.
Simon, of all people, would understand him.
“I was half-drunk,” he said. “It’s no excuse. It was wrong.”
Simon leaned in. “Baldwin, you are nothing but good and decent. Whatever you did, I’m certain it isn’t as bad as you believe.”
Baldwin tilted his head back, trying to find air. “Helena,” he whispered at last. “She found me in that...state. She found me and I…I went too far.”
Simon stared at him for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Are you telling me you took Helena Monroe to bed?”
“No,” he said, lurching backward. Oh, that’s what he’d wanted to do. Still wanted to do. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t no matter how much he wanted to. “No, but I…I touched her. In an ungentlemanly way.”
Simon shook his head. “Baldwin, I’ve known you since you were twelve. You would never do something against a lady’s will. It’s clear that Helena is attracted to you, that you are attracted to her and despite everything, sometimes these things happen.”
“That doesn’t mean what I did was right. Even though she said yes, I…I can’t pursue her.”
Simon frowned. “Why?”
Baldwin caught his breath. “I can’t, that’s all. I don’t want to get into it. I must find her, talk to her.”
He moved to the boots that had been left neatly at the foot of his bed. He paused to stare at them. Helena had put them there. Helena had smiled at him, and he thought he vaguely remembered her kissing his cheek so very sweetly.
He tugged the boots on and ran a hand through his hair.
“Baldwin,” Simon said, frustration running through his voice as he did so. “Damn it. Everyone can see something is wrong with you. Why won’t you talk to us? Any of us. All of us? We could help.”
Baldwin turned. Simon was the most careful of their group. He could say something and make it sound kind even if it was a harsh word. If he confessed to his friend, Simon would be nothing but generous and accepting.
But it wouldn’t change Baldwin’s future. Nor his part in making it.
“I can’t,” he said. “Now I must find her. Excuse me.”
Simon sighed. “She’s your perfect match, mate,” he called after him. “Meg said she was off toward the lake half an hour ago. Said she needed a walk to clear her mind.”
Baldwin ignored him, but his heart leapt as he rushed from the room and toward the woman who so tangled everything in his mind. The one he owed far more to than an awkward fingering in his study chair.
Normally Helena would have been captivated by the beauty of the scene before her. The lake on Baldwin’s property was vast, and in the early morning coolness it steamed up fog from its mirrored reflection. Under any other circumstance, she would have drunk it all in, memorizing the moment so she could call it up later and find a little peace.
But today was not normal and the appreciation she would have felt was cut down by more than half as she stood at the water’s edge. All she could think about was Baldwin. All she could think about was pleasure.
She’d never experienced such a thing before. But it was…magical. And she wanted more.
“I’m becoming the wanton my uncle always accused me of being,” she murmured, shivering as she thought of what kind of reaction Uncle Peter would have if he knew. She’d be on the first boat back to Boston, where she had no one to take her in.
Behind her, she heard a thundering sound and turned to watch a horse barreling down the hill toward the lake. Even from a distance, she recognized the rider. It was Baldwin.
She caught her breath as he brought the animal up short and swung down. He was still wearing his trousers and shirt from the previous night, wrinkled though they were by sleep. He had dark circles beneath his eyes and he looked slightly sick. Not that she was surprised. The poor man had to have a hangover.
And yet he was still here.
“Helena!” he called out as he crossed the distance between them in a few long strides.
She clenched her hands before her and tried to sound calm as she said, “Y-your Grace. What are you doing here?”
He ran a hand through his hair and his gaze darted from hers. “I heard you’d come down here to walk and I know I am disturbing your peace. I know you likely want nothing to do with me after my shocking behavior last night, but I had to find you. I had to speak to you. If you will allow it.”
She blinked at the words and the apologetic tone they were spoken in. “I—of course, Baldwin.”
He sagged just a fraction, as if he’d actually believed she might turn away from him. Then he held out a hand, like he would touch her. She held her breath for it, wanting it, needing that touch. But before he could, he jerked his hand away.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
She shook her head. “Sorry?”
“For my beastly behavior last night,” he clarified, his dark eyes holding hers, searching them. She saw his desperation reflected there. His deep regret. It cut her to the bone to see that he was sorry for what they’d done.
“You were not beastly,” she said.
He leaned away. “I was, I know I was. I got…bad news during the ball. Something about my finances that I hoped I could resolve, but now seems…well, it’s not going to happen. At least not now. I want you to know that I rarely drink to excess. But I was…I was…”
“Desperate,” she filled in when he could not.