“One doesn’t,” he conceded, and his face finally relaxed into a smile. “A fair point.”
He hesitated and then held out his elbow to her. She caught her breath. A duke escorting a lady’s companion could not be proper, but refusing that same duke seemed even more ill-mannered. So she reached out and slid her hand into the crook of his arm.
The reaction was immediate. Heated. Unexpected. It was the first time they’d touched, and awareness shot through her as his body heat wound through her. He smelled of that same heat, a leathery scent that made her stomach flip and her legs tremble. And his arm—good God, it was strong. She gripped what felt like a slab of steel and never in her life had she felt so…safe.
She blinked as they entered the parlor, and released him immediately. That was not right. Not good. Not proper.
And certainly it had no end that she could look forward to. Baldwin was seeking a bride amongst ladies. She was a servant in the best light. In the worst…well, he’d never know about that. Still, it precluded her from his attentions.
“Thank you,” she stammered, and started across the room away from him without looking back. She walked blindly, trying to find some quiet corner where she could hide until she was called upon by her cousin. A place where she could calm her racing heart and carefully destroy all the inappropriate thoughts that were plaguing her.
Instead, she heard Meg’s voice through the soft sounds of the group. “Helena!”
She turned toward her, unable not to smile when Meg was beaming at her, motioning her to join her and her husband and another handsome man. She stepped to them, working hard to keep a serene expression.
“Good evening, Meg and Your Grace.”
Meg’s husband waved his hand. “Not with that, thank you. If she gets to be Meg, I get to be Simon.”
Helena boggled. “I truly do not understand your group. I was told very strictly by my uncle never to be too informal with those who held title. And yet I have been told to call everyone by their first names. If you are not careful, I shall find myself beheaded when I call your prince regent George.”
Simon laughed. “Oh no, my dear, you must call him Prinny. We all do.”
“I suppose we are more informal than some,” the other man in their small group said. “Probably because the men of our circle have been friends far longer than any of us even thought about title. Simon has always been Simon to me. When he’s Your Graced, it makes my teeth hurt.”
“May I present Miss Helena Monroe to you?” Meg said with a smile. “That is, assuming you have not already met the Duke of Tyndale.”
“Or Matthew, if we are being informal,” the gentleman said as he caught Helena’s hand and raised it for a brief kiss across her gloved knuckles. “And we had not yet met, but I’ve heard a great deal about you, Miss Monroe.”
Helena blinked. They were all so kind. She felt so welcomed. It was lovely and strange all at once.
“Your Grace,” she offered. “Gracious, it is difficult when there are a group of you, isn’t it? I suppose I can see how much easier using first names would be.”
“Quite right,” Matthew said. “Though if calling me by my Christian name is too bothersome, I also accept Tyndale.”
“Perhaps that would be best,” Helena said with a blush. “I can only imagine what my uncle would say if he knew Baldwin and all his friends had asked me to call them by their first names.”
She heard the words as they exited her mouth and it took everything in her not to slap her hand over her lips. Especially when Tyndale’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly at her slip.
But before she had to say anything more, the butler appeared at the doorway, ringing a little bell to indicate their supper was served. The rest started to walk out, and she waited to follow, but to her surprise, Tyndale offered her an arm.
“Charlotte tells me you and I will be seated next to each other tonight. May I take you in?”
She nodded, for there was no other answer, and took his arm. But as they moved to depart the room, she couldn’t help but notice that Baldwin was watching them, even as he took her cousin’s arm. And he did not seem overly pleased by what he saw.
Helena caught herself staring down the table at Baldwin for the tenth time since supper had started, and forced herself to focus on her plate. She had no right to look at him. No right to wonder what Charity was talking to him about. In a perfect world, at least for her family, he would marry her cousin.
A thought that turned her stomach.
“You look troubled, Miss Monroe.”
She jerked her head up to look at Tyndale and found him staring at her closely. She shook her head immediately. “Oh no, of course not, I—”
He leaned in. “I know trouble, Miss Monroe there is no use denying it.”
She cleared her throat and shrugged. “I suppose we all have troubles.”
His gaze slipped up the table. “I suppose we all do.”
She followed his gaze and frowned. Baldwin’s expression was perfectly acceptable as he listened to her cousin prattle on incessantly, but there was something to his eyes. Something worried and distant.
She shook her head. “Do you know what troubles him?”
Tyndale leaned back in his chair. “You seem to know my friend very well after such a short acquaintance. To call him by his first name, to see that there is something in his eyes that doesn’t seem…right.”
She caught her breath and looked at Tyndale again. He was observing her with a expression that could not be denied. But it was kind, just as he seemed to be very kind.
“I didn’t know who he was the first night I met him,” she found herself saying and there was relief in saying anything real at all after all the weeks with her uncle and Charity. “I’m sure he thought me very foolish. But he was very…attentive. And I admit I haven’t experienced that in a long time. But now I’m being too forward.”
“I asked the question,” Tyndale said with a shake of his head. “I was interested in the answer, after all.” He seemed to consider her for a moment, then he added, “You asked why he’s troubled. I don’t know. He doesn’t share much. He used to, once upon a time. But since his father’s death…well, it changed him.”
She tried not to look at Baldwin. “I suppose it would have to. He bears a great deal of responsibility.”
“Perhaps more than we know,” he mused. “I wish he had a friend he could turn to, but he denies his troubles to all close to him. If he could just say those troubles out loud, I wonder if it would help.”
Helena pondered the suggestion. She had to believe it was true. Sometimes she wanted to scream her own troubles from the rafters. Sometimes she longed for a confidante that would hear her, just hear her.
The servants cleared the last of the dessert plates away and Helena rose with the others. Matthew smiled at her as he offered his arm a second time. She blushed in response. “I hope I wasn’t out of line.”