He rose with a grace that seemed almost mocking and offered her the second glove.
“And yet,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you remain.”
April snatched the glove, muttering something incoherent, and struggled to pull it on without his assistance.
As they resumed walking, the laughter and sunlight around them seemed to fade.
He unsettles me so easily. And I like it.Yet beneath the dizzying flutter of attraction, a darker thought stole in.
Why is he so insistent on marrying me? What is he hiding?
Eight
The forest was endless, a tangled black mass of thorn and mist. Theo ran, branches clawing at his arms, the ground slick beneath his boots. Ahead, he caught fleeting glimpses of his mother’s pale figure, always just out of reach.
“Wait!” he called hoarsely. “Please, wait!”
Her silhouette wavered before it was swallowed by the mist. Other voices rose around him, growing louder by the second. The night closed in, thick and suffocating.
“Mother!” he cried again, but she was gone.
Theo jerked awake, the cold sweat plastering his nightshirt to his skin. His breath rasped in the cold silence of his bedchamber.
There would be no more sleep tonight. He was sure of it. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed and pushing a handthrough his damp hair, he sighed. In moments, he was pulling on his clothes and boots then moving with the mechanical precision of long habit.
The stable was silent, save for the restless shifting of the horses. His black stallion, Obsidian, snorted softly as Theo saddled him after giving him an apple.
Then they set out, traveling into the heart of London. Theo guided Obsidian through the deserted streets and tried to occupy his mind with matters of the estate, the progress of the investigation—anything at all—but every distraction slipped through his fingers like smoke. Reaching into his coat pocket, he thumbed the worn handkerchief there and briefly closed his eyes.
When he opened them, the nightmare had receded, but a new specter rose to take its place: April. Her laughter, bright and reckless, echoed through his thoughts—the stubborn tilt of her chin, the way she looked at him with those large blue eyes, as if she could peel back every layer he kept so carefully guarded. She followed him more persistently than any nightmare ever could.
Theo shifted in the saddle, scowling into the mist. What a life—haunted by demons in the dark and haunted by a slip of a girl in the daylight.Need is weakness. Love is a liability.The old mantra beat in his head with the steadiness of a drum. It had served him well for years, carved into him like scripture.
And yet… her smile lingered, a stubborn flame against the chill.
Before he realized it, Obsidian slowed near Wildmoore House. Theo pulled the reins sharply, frowning at his own betrayal. The townhouse loomed silent, save for a faint light burning high in one of the upper windows. Was it her window? Was she awake even now, reading or brushing her hair by candlelight?
He tightened his grip on the reins until the leather creaked in protest. He would not approach. He would not allow himself that softness. He watched for a moment longer before he turned Obsidian away.
He had not gone far when another horseman appeared, trotting easily through the mist. “Stone!” called a familiar voice. “Haunting the night again, are you?”
Theo recognized Edward Sinclair, the Marquess of Calenham, one of the few men he allowed near him.Perfect. The only soul in London who would dare call my name after dark.
“Returning home,” Theo said.
Calenham grinned. “Returning? Or lingering? Were you perhaps visiting your betrothed?”
Must the entire world know of my affairs?
Theo’s hands on the reins twitched. He turned a sharp look on his friend. “How do you know?”
Calenham laughed. “Poor Wexley has been singing your praises—and his own heartbreak—to anyone with ears. Apparently you stole the radiant Lady April right from under his nose.”
“Foolish fellow,” Theo muttered.
“If I had known you were in the market for a bride,” Calenham said, nudging his horse alongside Theo’s, “I would have paraded my cousins before you.”
“I doubt they would have survived the inspection,” Theo observed dryly.
