Because I am in love with you, you dolt.
Naturally, she kept that bit to herself.
His gaze searched hers, probing. “How are you feeling this morning, Helena?”
She knew what he was asking—how did she feel now that they had made love? A flush crept over her cheeks once more as she remembered those blistering moments of passion.
“Quite well, thank you.”
She resumed eating her breakfast.
After an indeterminate span of time, he finished reading his newspaper and took his leave. Helena watched him go, knowing the chasm between them had not truly been breached. Of course it had not. What had she expected? One night of desire to change everything?
He still resented her for forcing him into marriage.
And she still loved him as desperately as ever.
Making love tohis wife the night before had given Gabe clarity on two facts: he needed to attempt to make amends with his friend Shelbourne, and bedding her had not quelled his desire for her but rather increased it. He was not certain what to do with the latter, dangerous realization, but he damn well did know what to do with the first.
And that was why he found himself meeting with Shelbourne on neutral territory, their club, the Black Souls. A private room had been arranged, along with a lovely Sauternes courtesy of the club owner, Mr. Elijah Decker, himself a newly married man. Decker’s wife, Lady Josephine, was a member of the Lady’s Suffrage Society and friend of Helena. As such, Huntingdon expected Decker took pity on him.
“How is my sister?” Shelbourne asked coolly.
Gabe took note his friend did not refer to Helena by her new title. “Lady Huntingdon is well, thank you.”
“No honeymoon?” Shelbourne prodded, raising a dark brow.
He drummed his fingers on the polished table. “No fisticuffs today?”
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “You are the one who invited me here to speak. You are also the one who ruined my innocent sister and necessitated a rushed, forced marriage. Am I expected to be entertained by such a quip?”
He was not wrong.
And although Gabe had not lowered himself to the depths which Shelbourne believed he had sunk by getting a child on Helena, he had gone far enough. He had kissed her, been alone with her,touchedher.
He took a long, slow sip of his wine, trying to gather himself, before returning his glass to the table. “That is the reason I wished to speak with you today.”
“To invite me to plant you another facer?”
Huntingdon frowned. “To explain myself. To apologize. To make amends.”
But his old friend’s stare was flat, his countenance lined with stark disapproval and anger. “You cannot do so, Huntingdon. That horse is out of the pasture, jumped the fence. All you can do is promise to be a good husband to Hellie.”
At the sobriquet Shelbourne used for Helena, Gabe knew another sharp spear of guilt. His friend and Helena had been close once. Shelbourne had doted upon her, and that knowledge had long been a part of what had forced him to think of her as nothing more than his friend’s sister. A lady he must never want. A lady he could never have.
A lady who was now his.
Irrefutably.
Irrevocably.
He tried to find his place in the conversation. “I am doing my best to be a good husband to her.”
His words were accompanied by the swift sting of shame. Was that true, however? He had been polite at breakfast. He had canceled his trip to Shropshire for the moment. But was that truly the sum of being a good husband? He thought not.
“If you hurt her, I will kill you, Huntingdon,” said his friend as blithely as if they discussed the quality of the wine in their glasses.
The finest, as it happened. Elijah Decker would serve nothing less than the best. But its excellence was lost upon him now. The stuff may as well have been fashioned of sawdust for all he tasted it.
