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 troubleshim?”
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, justhearher.
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.”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
He took her from the dining room and down a long hall to the parlor where the night had begun. Tables had been placed in the room for games, and a fire burned brightly with a screen positioned for shadow puppets later.
As Matthew released her, he squeezed her hand. “Thank you for the company, Miss Monroe. I very much enjoyed our talk during supper.”
Helena nodded, for she had to. Up until the end, it had been very pleasant. Tyndale was a fine companion. She just didn’t…want to be near him like she did with Baldwin. Not that either man was in her sphere.
He walked away, and she drew a deep breath at her first moment alone that night. Her cousin slid over to Tyndale as she did, sidling up to him to talk. Her father was close at hand, so Helena didn’t feel her duties as companion would be required. She walked to the window and stood there, staring out at the inky night.
“Hello.”
She stiffened at the sound of Baldwin’s voice, now just at her elbow. Turning, she gave him the brightest smile she could manage when her heart was throbbing. “Your Grace.”
He smiled back, but once again she saw that flicker of worry in his stare. Along with something darker, more heated. Her stomach fluttered in response, and she sought some topic, any topic, to make this odd attraction ease a little.
“Your sister seems vastly contented,” she burst out.
Baldwin stared at her another beat, then his gaze slid across the room to Charlotte. She was standing beside Ewan, chatting with Emma and James.
“She is,” he said, his tone a little faraway. “And I am glad of it. She has not had an easy time. Her first marriage was arranged and I think rather empty. But Ewan is her first and greatest love.”
“Is he?” she asked, and looked at the couple.
