He didn’t speak, but reached his hand out to awkwardly touch her face with his fingertips. Then he smiled and said, “Good night, lovely Helena.”
“Good night,” she said. She moved to extinguish the lamp, and as she did she heard the soft sound of a snore from the bed. She turned to examine him in firelight for the second time that night and found him already asleep. She leaned a little closer, indulging herself as she would likely never be allowed to do again.
He was so beautiful. Just perfectly formed in every way, and in his sleep the seriousness and worry was all gone from his face.
She leaned in and gently kissed his cheek. “Good night,” she said again, and turned to leave the room.
But first she looked around. Unlike the rest of the house, which was still opulent, here she saw the effects of the financial struggles Baldwin faced. Everything was plain, from the worn furniture to the discolorations in the walls where pictures had clearly once hung but had now been removed, likely sold.
It was sobering, and she frowned as she slipped from the room and closed the door behind herself. She crept away hurriedly so she wouldn’t be caught in such a terrible position, but as she moved toward the guest wing of the house, she couldn’t help but ponder everything that had happened tonight, from the ball to the pleasure to the end.
She wanted to help Baldwin, but tonight he had helped her, without even meaning to. Without even trying. And she knew that she would never be the same.
Chapter Thirteen
Baldwin lifted his head with a moan. Pain shot through his entire skull and down his neck. He flopped back down face-first into his pillow and stayed there, blessedly surrounded by the darkness.
It had been a very long time since he drank to excess. A very, very long time since he had more than one glass of scotch out of politeness. Not that he hadn’t earned that pleasure…or punishment, for it felt like a punishment now.
But his sense of responsibility always stopped him.
He rolled over slowly and grunted in pain once more. Everything was coming back to him now. The letter about the outstanding debts that could very well seal his fate. The decision to go drink that pain away.
And then Helena had come and—
He jerked to a seated position as he was overwhelmed with memories. Kissing her. Touching her…oh God, touching her.
There was a knock on his chamber door and he ignored it as he set his head in his hands. What had he done? They’d talked and he’d touched and then—then she’d told him that someone…hurt her. Rage swelled up in him at that thought. Rage at that faceless person. Rage at himself because despite her confession, he had continued on anyway. He had lifted her skirts and touched her. An ungentlemanly act that he wouldn’t have done if he weren’t tipsy.
The knock came again and he staggered from his bed. “What?”
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?”
