He had answered Peter quite sincerely when he had directly approached him with his questions. No, he had no intention of hurting Helena. Yes, he had entered this engagement with her with their mutual benefit in mind, and no, he had in no way coerced her into agreeing to it.
His word had been enough to satisfy Peter, but his friend knew, as he did himself, that there was indeed something else in this arrangement. And that something else was rendering him restless tonight.
The news of his engagement to Helana had reached the farthest circles of theton. A duke’s betrothal was a noteworthy thing, after all. And so it was that he was met with more than one regretful eye from the ladies. A few of them even blatantly asked him if he was sure.
He laughed, recalling Helena’s reaction upon hearingthatconversation. Her eyes had spit fire at the thoughtless, forward lady. She had grabbed him by the arm and led him away. All the while hissing how she now understood why he needed her protection against her fellow females.
But how was it that a man who considered himself knowledgeable in the ways of women found himself completely green this time? With this woman, with this lady.
“What is it that you want of me, Helena?” he spoke to the glass of brandy he held. “And what is it that I want from you?”
The lady must be the one to say yes; he had always followed that. But now, with Helena, he found thathewanted to do everything he could to convince her to…
“That may not be the best path to take, Matteo,” he said aloud.
He took a drink from his glass and moved to the bed. He just needed sleep, yes, that was it. He needed a long, restful sleep. And when he woke up in the morning, he would be master of himself again.
He put down the glass of unfinished brandy on the bedside table, snuffed out the candle, climbed into bed, and lay quietly back against his pillows. He closed his eyes. Breathing deeply, he let the quiet envelope him.
It took Matteo a full three hours before he gave up on falling asleep easily. He opened his eyes again, and above him, he could see the canopy of his bed. The bed hangings, having been left open, allowed the light from the fire to flit through. Was it his imagination, or were the shadows merging and forming Helena’s face?
He pulled himself up from his bed and picked up the glass of brandy once again.
He muttered a curse. It was going to be a very long night.
Chapter Fourteen
The Woodacre Spring Ball was an annual ball held by the Marquess and Marchioness of Norwood in their estate, Woodacre, in Surrey. Though technically held in the country, its proximity to London—just south of the River Thames—was an easy distance for the nobility to travel.
Helena and Chastity, as was now their normal way, were to ride with Matteo in his carriage. And by the looks of it, they would arrive rather early.
Matteo raised his eyebrows at seeing the two ready and waiting upon his arrival.
“And here I thought making a gentleman wait half an hour at the least was the norm among ladies attending a ball.”
Helena smiled and gestured for him to come closer.
“Chastity has been extremely excited for this ball; she practically pushed me to get ready. Poor Sally has been reprimanded many times for being too slow in arranging our hair.”
He looked at her, his gaze sweeping from top to bottom. She was stunning. He wondered why it was that every man in London did not beg to do her bidding. He certainly felt that at that moment, she could ask for the moon, and he would give it.
Helena’s gleaming blonde hair was arranged elegantly with soft tendrils framing her face, and glittering stones winked at him from within the tresses. Her gown, a deep, silvery blue, brought out the color in her blue eyes, and—to Helena’s surprise—matched his waistcoat.
Her look of surprised delight when she noticed the color of his attire had him smiling broadly.
“How—”
“I asked your Sally, of course.”
“And you just happen to have the same color waistcoat in your wardrobe?”
“I asked during the time we planned the events that we would be attending together,” Matteo took her hand, so natural a movement now that neither of them noticed. “That gave me time enough to procure the garment I needed.”
He did not say, however, that his tailor had to locate the specific fabric from Helena’s modiste. With all the trouble, he, therefore, had to pay for the waistcoat three times the amount of what it should have normally cost. Not to mention that, Davis, his valet, had to practically threaten his tailor the loss of Matteo’s patronage if it was not finished in time.
But the look of appreciation and—was it happiness?—on Helena’s face made it all worthwhile.
“That is very thoughtful of you, Matteo.”
