Loving Helen Read Free Page B

“The gardens are meant to be enjoyed, especially by my guests. You are free to walk here whenever it pleases you.”
    It is you I wished to walk with. Helen kept her gaze averted, feeling her face warm with the thought.
    Mr. Preston glanced about as if expecting to see Miranda accompanying her.
    Perhaps he will think me as scandalous as Grace, walking without a chaperone.
    “I came early,” Helen said.
    His brow furrowed.
    “For breakfast,” she clarified.
    “Of course.” He broke out in a smile. “Goodness. Is it that time already? He withdrew a watch from his vest and looked at it. “But no.” His gaze was questioning as he met hers.
    “I came early,” Helen said once more, wishing very much she had not.
    “You are hungry,” he assumed, stepping forward and offering his arm. “We’ll go right in and get you something.”
    “I am not,” Helen protested. “Hungry, that is. I only came to walk — with you.” There. She’d said it. And what an eloquent speech it had been. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her.
    When she dared peek at Mr. Preston again, she thought he looked rather perplexed, and perhaps even a bit put out.
    This was a terrible idea.
    “Well then —” He still offered his arm. “Of course you may join me. That was very — thoughtful — of you.”
    “I have seen you alone in the mornings,” Helen blurted, then wished she had not, as his gaze strayed in the direction of the guesthouse. “You are always alone, and I thought you might enjoy company.”
    Or, perhaps being alone is to your liking, she realized too late. Or perhaps you are not usually alone at all, as you were not today. “But if you would rather be by yourself—” She stepped back, preparing to flee.
    “Not at all.” He shook his head a little too vigorously to be entirely believable. “Stay. And allow me to explain.”
    Explain what? Why you prefer to be alone? Why you are sad? Who you were talking to? Helen did not ask what he meant; neither did she agree to stay. But instead of leaving, she moved to stand along the far edge of the path. He did not offer his arm again, for which she felt grateful. She’d only wished to walk and talk with him, not touch him.
    “I must confess that you startled me,” he said as they began to move awkwardly along the path, she trying to stay a step ahead so they did not accidentally touch, while looking back at him as they walked.
    “I do walk alone every morning.”
    “But not today. You were talking to someone.”
    He grimaced. “You are as direct as your sister.” It did not sound like a compliment.
    “I am sorry. I should not have said that. I should not have intruded your privacy.” She glanced about, looking for a break in the hedge where she might make her escape.
    “My privacy, or my insanity?” he said, almost more to himself than to her.
    Helen looked back at him, astonished to find him smiling, albeit rather sadly.
    “You have discovered my secret,” he said. “And I must beg you to keep it.”
    She nodded, fearful of what he was about to say. She had believed him to be so nice, so kind — she should have known he was too good to be true. All men, excepting Grandfather, Christopher, and Harrison, had some fatal flaw about them. If insanity was Mr. Preston’s, should she fear him?
    Should I run?
    He caught up with her so that they stood quite close. Helen’s pulse quickened. She took a step backward, then another, and her heel slipped from the path. She fell back into the hedge but quickly righted herself, though not before thorns caught in the lace of her dress.
    “Don’t move,” Mr. Preston ordered.
    She froze, too paralyzed with fear to do anything else. He reached over her shoulder and brushed her curls aside. Moving even closer, so close she felt his breath upon her ear, he worked, carefully freeing her gown from the bush.
    “There. No harm done, I believe. That is a very pretty gown.” He stepped back, a