Eddy must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because his breath caught. Their kisses grew faster, almost mindless. Hélène’s thoughts dissolved into shadows and Eddy’s pulse and the heat radiating from his body and the urgency of his mouth on hers. When his thigh pressed between her legs, she opened them without a second thought.
To her surprise, and delight, Eddy reached around her buttocks to hitch her up closer to him. Hélène felt the stone of the garden wall against her back, as hard and unyielding as Eddy felt pressed against her. Small noises escaped her lips as she pulled him closer, kissing his jaw, his neck, the corner of his mouth.
Hélène tugged at her skirts, pulling them higher up around her waist, her intent unmistakable. She had never felt this way with Laurent, like her entire body was molten and aching all at once. Laurent had always been so careful with her, almost hesitant, handling her as if she were made of glass.
She liked that Eddy didn’t seem to think of her as fragile or delicate, that he seemed untroubled when her desire roared up to match his.
When Eddy pulled away, Hélène blinked in confusion.
He took a careful step back, unhooking her legs from around his back and gently lowering her to the ground. The cool air felt sharp on her skin.
“Hélène.” His voice was hoarse. “We can’t do this.”
Though her experience was limited to a single man, she knew enough to know that men rarely turned down a willing woman.
“But I want you,” she said baldly.
“You think I don’t wantyou? God, Hélène, you’re driving me to distraction.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it at the edges. “I take responsibility for all the lines that were crossed tonight. I’m sorry.”
Hadn’t she chastised Eddy at the opera—expecting him to be sorry, angry when he wasn’t? Now he’d given her an apology, and Hélène had no idea what to do with it.
Eddy laced his fingers in hers, and she looked up to meet his eyes.
“I spoke to my grandmother about you,” he confessed.
Hélène’s heart skipped a beat. “And…”
“And she told me that courting you was out of the question. She said that marrying a Catholic would provoke a constitutional crisis, and I was a fool to even consider it. She still wants me to—”
He broke off, but Hélène could guess the rest of the sentence. Victoria still wanted Eddy to marry Alix.
“I suppose that settles that.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but failed.
“I keep thinking there must be another way. I could talk to Lord Salisbury,” Eddy began, but Hélène just sighed.
It surprised her, how upset she was at the prospect of giving him up. But she was an Orléans; she knew a lost cause when she saw one. Her country had been in quiet, desperate conflict, republicans versus monarchists, for her entire life. She’d been in exile since she was fifteen. She had always known that she was a princess without a throne, a princess whose entire worth would be determined by one single thing—the man she married. She was a living, breathing parcel that her parents would send to some other family, hoping to gain more allies for the Orléans cause.
Princesses were born to be pawns in their parents’ political ambitions. They didn’t get to marry according to their own desires.
But that didn’t mean they neverfeltthose desires.
Eddy turned toward her one last time. He brushed a kiss over Hélène’s lips—a featherlight, tender kiss that felt like an apology, filled with yearning and regret—and then he stepped back.
“I’ll walk around the side of the house to the kitchen entrance. You can go through the terrace without anyone seeing us together. Again, I’m sorry,” Eddy said gruffly.
It was the sight of his retreating back that made Hélène cry out, “Wait!”
Eddy turned around slowly.
She swallowed. “I’d like to see you again. In private,” she clarified.
There was a beat of silence as they both processed the magnitude of what she’d suggested.
“Are you sure?” Eddy asked, eyes fixed on hers.
There was no way they could court formally. No chance that they could get married. They had no future together—but they could have something now, in the present. If Hélène was willing to risk it.
“I’m sure,” she assured him, wondering if she was out of her mind. It had been dangerous enough getting involved with her family’s coachman. Having an affair with a future king was something else entirely.
