Henry stood at the entrance, silhouetted in the doorway. His evening coat was gone, his cravat hung loose, and his dark hair looked thoroughly mussed, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it.
He looked… undone.
I shouldn’t be here.
This situation was all too familiar… a moment to breathe and a moment alone with a man…This time it’s different.
“Your Grace.” Her voice came out breathless. “I didn’t expect you to follow me.” She wrung her hands when he remained quiet. “We shouldn’t be found alone together.” Even as she said it, she didn’t move toward the door.
“I know.” He stepped closer so slowly it could only have been deliberate, as if approaching something wild that might bolt. “But I saw you leave and I couldn’t—” He stopped. His jaw worked. “I couldn’t let you disappear into the dark alone.”
This time really was different. She didn’t have a single innocent thought to mistake the risk or the allure of the moment.
“I’m not alone now,” she said softly.
“True.” His eyes found hers and held them. “You’re not.”
The silence between them felt weighted. Charged with everything neither of them said.
He crossed to her. Each step closed the distance until he stood near enough that she could smell wine and something uniquely him.
“May I?” He gestured to the space beside her at the fountain.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He sat. Not touching her. But close enough that the heat of him warmed her side.
Henry foundher in the orangery. She stood at the fountain, trailing her fingers through the water. Moonlight caught in her hair. He should have left or at least maintained proper distance, but she was just so… so… he moved closer.
“You disappeared,” he said quietly.
She spun. Hand to her chest. “You followed me.”
“I did.”
“That was unwise.”
“Probably.” He was near but not improper. “Watching you go away felt worse.”
She studied him. Wary. “Why?”
“Because we were interrupted.” He gestured vaguely at the space between them. “Earlier. When we were?—”
“Dancing badly?”
His mouth curved. “I was going to say, ‘having an actual conversation.’ But yes. Also dancing badly.”
“You weren’t that terrible.”
“You’re being kind.”
“I’m being honest. You only stepped on my foot twice.”
“Three times.”
“Twice. I counted. And only the right, not the left even once.”
“Which means I’m even worse than you thought. I assault beautiful ladies unevenly with my clumsy dancing.”
