She felt his breath tremble against her cheek, his restraint already unraveling as he pressed closer, deepening the kiss with a low sound in his throat that made her knees weaken. Her fingers curled helplessly into his coat, pulling him closer. She responded before she could think, kissing him back with a desperate, aching need she hadn’t known lived inside her.
He made a harsh sound—half groan, half curse—his hand sliding to her lower back, drawing her fully into him. She felt the hard line of his body, the heat of him, the intensity he’d been presenting since the moment they met.
“Madeline…” he breathed against her mouth, voice breaking.
He kissed her again, and it was deeper, slower, unbearably tender for one brief, devastating moment. And then he tore himself away.
Madeline stumbled forward, breathless, lips parted, her hands still twisted in the fabric of his coat until she realized he was no longer holding her. She dropped them instantly, as if burned.
Wilhelm staggered back a step, chest rising and falling rapidly. There was a wildness in his eyes, a mixture of fear, desire and regret tangled into something that hollowed his expression.
His voice was rough. “I should not have done that.”
Madeline swallowed, her lips trembling in the echo of his kiss. “Your Grace…”
“No.” He lifted a hand, not in warning but in apology. “Miss Watton, forgive me. This cannot happen. I have no right. You are my daughter’s governess. I crossed a boundary I should never have crossed.”
Her chest tightened painfully. “I did not push you away.”
“That is not the point,” he said, almost whispering it, as though the admission wounded him. “This cannot happen again. I will not allow myself to… to compromise your position. Or mine. It was a mistake.”
The words sliced through her like cold steel, but Madeline forced her breath to continue thrumming evenly all while her heart fractured quietly beneath her ribs. She nodded once. “I understand.”
Wilhelm closed his eyes, jaw clenching. “Good. Then… then we shall speak no more of this matter between us.”
The room felt suddenly cold. The heat he’d ignited inside her still roared through her veins, but outwardly she made herself calm, distant, and composed. God, it hurt.
“I shall return to my duties,” she said softly, her voice breaking on the last word.
She turned away from him in a resigned fashion.
As she reached for the door and began to pull it open, Wilhelm spoke again—quietly this time, the words strained as though they cost him something to release. “Madeline.”
Her hand stilled on the latch, her breath catching in her throat as she paused without turning back. She felt him behind her, felt the weight of his restraint pressing against the space between them, but he didn’t move toward her, or attempt to soften the blow he had just delivered nor did he offer even the smallest gesture of comfort.
He simply said, with a controlled severity that cut straight through her chest, “This will never happen again.”
The words landed and immediately bloomed like a slow bruise, spreading under her skin.
Madeline lowered her head, dipping it in a small, perfectly polite nod that hid the tremor tightening her throat. “Of course, Your Grace,” she managed, the words quiet and restrained even as her heart splintered.
She stepped through the doorway before he could see the way her eyes burned, before he could witness the tears she refused to let fall in his presence.
And the door closed gently behind her, shutting her out, and leaving the air in the corridor feeling colder than it had ever been.
CHAPTER 9
“Did anyone ask after me?”
The footman paused with one of her boxes braced against his thigh, the lid held carefully shut beneath his palm as though he feared it might spring open of its own accord.
“No, miss.” He looked at her with mild confusion. “We packed everything swiftly. The landlady stood about, but only to fret, and the rest of the household kept to themselves.”
Madeline did not allow her shoulders to sag with relief, but the breath she drew in was deeper than any she had taken since the day she met the Duke and left her lodgings behind. She nodded once, and her fingers, which had been locked together so tightly that her knuckles ached, loosened at last.
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it far more deeply than manners demanded.
He tipped his head and continued into her room, placing the box with care upon the trunk already at the foot of her bed, then lifting the next parcel with quiet efficiency.
