“I was not tired,” she said carefully. “I didn’t want to disturb you by tossing and turning on the settee in the attached room, so I got up to walk around a bit. Hoping it would make me tired.”
Charity and Uncle Peter exchanged a look, and then Charity shrugged. “Still,” she said. “You are crossing the line.”
“You were brought here on the sole balance of my benevolence, girl, don’t you forget it. If Charity hadn’t insisted and I hadn’t agreed, you would have been out on the street in Boston. Your family knew you were a whore who’d worn out whatever purpose you had left. You owe me everything.”
Helena flinched, but before she could respond, the door to the parlor opened and Baldwin stepped in. But it wasn’t a Baldwin she’d ever seen before. Gone was her gentle lover. Gone was the careful duke.
Standing before her was a raging bull, his face red and his eyes narrowed. And all that anger was focused squarely on her uncle.
Baldwin could hardly breathe as he burst into the parlor and came face-to-face with Helena and her family. What he’d overheard in the hallway, Shephard’s sharp and cruel berating, that was bad enough. But coming into the room and seeing Helena’s pale and pained face and the way she was edged up into a corner, trying to make herself as small as possible…
It was enough. He forgot prudence. He forgot propriety. He forgot that she was not his.
He forgot it all and strode into the room in three long strides. “Just what the hell is going on in here?” he growled, pleased he had found enough control to make coherent words.
Shephard jolted in surprise, and Charity took a step back. Helena remained in place, her shoulders still hunched. She glanced at him, her expression a combination of shock and relief and also stark terror.
And he wanted to sweep her up and ride away with her. Ride away from everything that kept them apart. Ride away and never, never come back.
“This is a family matter, Your Grace,” Shephard said with another glare for Helena. “I suggest you stay out of it.”
“When you are talking to one of my house guests in such a tone in my parlor, I will not stay out of it,” Baldwin said. He moved forward a few more steps. “Miss Monroe is a lady, sir. I suggest you keep that in mind.”
Somehow he had expected that Shephard would step down at that admonishment. That he would show a little decency. He was to be disappointed. Instead, Shephard leaned in and laughed. “A lady! Is that what Helena has convinced you that she is? Well, let me disabuse you of that notion, Your Grace. My niece is anything but a lady.”
Charity gasped and Helena turned her head, her cheeks flush with humiliation. Baldwin lunged forward, and now he was towering over Shephard, ready to swing if need be. Barely containing himself from doing just that.
“Don’t test me, Shephard,” he said softly.
Shephard was not unaffected. Baldwin swelled with pride at the way the other man trembled ever so slightly. The way a thin sheen of sweat broke out on his upper lip as he stared up into Baldwin’s face.
But then something shifted. The fear ebbed, replaced with a nasty smugness that turned Baldwin’s stomach.
“No, boy,” the other man said, poking his finger into Baldwin’s chest. “Don’t you test me.”
They held their stare for a moment, for too long. Then Baldwin pointed to the door. “Get out of this room, sir. Or I shall have you removed.”
Shephard chuckled as he motioned to Charity. “Come along, dear. And you, Helena.”
“She stays,” Baldwin snapped. “There is no way she will go anywhere with you until you think about your behavior toward her.”
Shephard sent her a nasty look, then caught Charity’s arm and all but dragged her from the room, leaving Baldwin alone with Helena.
He spun on her, but she was not looking at him with gratitude. She didn’t look happy at what he’d done. She was shaking her head, over and over, and her face was pale and sick.
“Helena,” he said softly.
She caught her breath on a sob and said, “You shouldn’t have done that, Baldwin.”
Chapter Eighteen
Baldwin stared at Helena, and she could see he was surprised that she hadn’t launched herself into his arms and declared him her hero. Perhaps part of her wanted to do that. There was a moment when her bully of an uncle had actually looked afraid, and there was no denying that she had enjoyed that far more than she should have.
But it didn’t change the facts of the situation she found herself in. And that moment of pleasure, just like all the moments of pleasure she’d stolen lately, would have dire consequences in the end.
Baldwin’s jaw set as he marched across the room and gently shut the door, giving them privacy that they ought not have. And yet she had no energy left to argue that fact.
“He attacked you, Helena. You could not truly expect me to stand by and allow it.”
