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He did it at the ball when they danced on the balcony, far away from the sweltering heat and the suffocating crowd. He did that when he quietly leaned against the wall by her side, while she sat in the corner at the women’s shelter. And he did it again, today. Bringing her a simple object, a flask for her to drink from when he realized that that was what she’d required.

And then he made light of it. Because it wasn’t difficult for him to do. And he required nothing of her in return.

Helen peeked at him from beneath her lashes, watching, as he effortlessly rode beside her, only a tiny shift in his muscles indicating the easy control of his gelding.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with quite an appealing physique. Yet, he was gentle and tender when dealing with Helen.

When she’d visited the brothel, wanting to experience the spark of passion, she could not imagine letting a strange man touch her. But after three short meetings with Lord McAllistair, she knew she could trust him with her body. And more importantly, she could trust him with her desires.

She felt it in her soul, that he would not betray her trust, for he was a true gentleman. And he would not require anything of her that she wasn’t comfortable with.

How did everyone overlook this man as a simple drunk? Or perhaps he hid behind his affliction, just like she had this entire time.

Then perhaps they could find some solace in each other?

Helen pulled on the reins, forcing her mare to a stop.

Lord McAllistair immediately turned toward her. “Have you tired of riding aimlessly around the park?” His eyes glinted in merriment, although she could see worry behind the facade.

“A little.” This was a lie. She wasn’t tired—at least not from riding—but she was too nervous.

“Would you like to have a walk instead?”

“Yes, very much.” Perhaps, it would be easier to have this conversation on steady ground.

Lord McAllistair quickly jumped off his gelding and walked toward Helen.

He took her by the waist and slowly helped her down. The world darkened around her as she made a quick slide down to the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut before opening them and staring into McAllistair’s worried features.

“Do you feel unwell?”

“No, just… May I have another sip?”

He handed her the flask and a handkerchief with a mischievous grin. “I’m glad I am a bad influence on you already. But I’ll be a gentleman and tie our horses while you drink. Wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

He turned away and stalked toward the horses with a confident stride. Helen had to admit that he was a fine specimen of a man. She couldn’t help but admire his easy grace as he moved. He was a big man with a wide back and muscled thighs that stood out from within his breeches. Helen never thought that a man as large as he could move as silently and elegantly as he did. As if he wasn’t a person at all, but a panther stalking its prey.

Helen never thought she could find such a physique appealing, either. She was always of the mind that a man needn’t have an excess of muscle. His was the physique of a working man, not a gentleman.

Yet the lack of social refinement and a powdered wig set Helen’s heart aflutter. How did such a man easily fool the entire London society into thinking he was a drunken simpleton?

His quick wit rivaled the best of Parliament speakers, and his easy manners could charm anyone if he only bothered to apply them. Somehow she was the one he chose to charm.

He approached the horses smoothly, unhurriedly, and with the same grace took off his gloves. He reached out to stroke the mane of one of the animals, and Helen’s breath caught in her throat.

She found herself imagining what it would be like to have him stroke her hair and face with those hands. Would they feel soft and smooth against her skin or were his fingertips calloused?

He was so gentle with the animals. Would he take such care with her?

Helen swallowed and only then did she realize that she hadn’t actually taken a sip of her drink. He was giving her time to do that in private. Instead, she was ogling him like a starved animal.

She tipped the bottle against her lips and took a large sip, almost choking on the liquid. She coughed and pressed the handkerchief against her lips.

Could she embarrass herself even more today?

Oh, yes, she could. In fact, she would.

She was preparing herself to do just that.