He admired that about her. But it wasn’t enough. Not with him standing here, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.
“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Silas’s voice was firm now, a command she had no choice but to obey. “Tell me what you know, Helena. The truth.”
He saw her lips part, just slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might finally break, finally confess.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stepped back, her eyes avoiding his, her hand moving to her throat as if she could shield herself from his questions.
His patience was running out, but he wasn’t about to let her go just yet. He closed the distance between them again.
“Helena,” he breathed her name, his voice a dark whisper.
The way her name rolled off his tongue… Heavens, he enjoyed how easy it was to speak it without formality. He wanted to say it again and again, to taste every syllable of it, as much as he wanted to learn every inch of her.
What had been done to her? What had hardened her so much that she would persist in silence this much?
He saw her breath quicken, her pulse hammered beneath the delicate skin of her throat. He couldfeelthe tension in the air.
The space between them seemed to shrink with every heartbeat. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted her answer more, or the tantalizing possibility that she might inch closer, just as he longed to do the same.
“You do not need to hide from me, Helena,” he whispered into her ear. “Not from me.”
As he pulled back, Helena stiffened, her body freezing in place, but her azure eyes flashed with something he couldn’t quite read.
“All I’ve ever done is hide, Your Grace,” she murmured back.
She was so close now. He could feel her warmth, smell the subtle scent of lavender on her skin.
“I know,” he replied, his voice softening. “And yet… you do not have to anymore.”
For a moment, everything else faded—the investigation, the danger, the secrets. All that mattered was her.
Then, in a sudden motion, her palms pressed against his chest, fingers splayed. Her eyes snapped wide, darting up to his, the slightest tremor in her jaw betraying her resolve.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Helena—”
Before he could respond, she turned and fled, her footsteps soft yet urgent against the floor.
Silas remained still, watching her go. A quiet awareness stirred in him, something protective, almost instinctive, tightening around him.
He did not move, did not speak, but one thought lingered in his mind.
She mattered.
Chapter Seven
“And so, I crept into the kitchen and stole some bread to eat. I even shared it with the other girl. Two days later, what do you know, she reported me to the Mother Superior!” Helena finished to peals of laughter from Amelia.
Supper was a tense meal, with everyone keeping to their respective corners. Helena and Amelia made polite conversation, smiling and laughing with each other, pointedly leaving Silas out.
The whole thing would have been amusing if he had not been unsettled by his own thoughts. The memory of the library, the closeness, the warmth, the subtle scent of her… it all refused to leave him. It was one thing to press a subject of interest like Helena so intently, but the intensity of his own reaction caught him off guard.
He had never participated in the marriage mart, not wishing to bring another woman into the house while his sister was still there. He had always assumed he had plenty of time after she was married to find a bride.
Of course, he’d had dalliances with women outside the ton, but he—and most importantlythey—knew it was nothing serious. He had never touched a lady, never with intent. And yet… in the library, he had felt something altogether different.
