“All my life,” she whispered, “I have been one of triplets. May is the darling, June the clever one, and I… I have never been certain what I am. But I know I shall not wed simply to vanish into the west wing of someone else’s life. I must remain April. Not just a wife or the lady of the manor.”
The honesty in her voice struck him harder than any rebuke. And in that moment, he wanted to offer her everything she had named.I would give it to you if I knew how.But he could not. Theo had nothing to give.
“What do you believe you are doing?” A sharp voice cleaved through the hush, and he clenched his teeth while April stiffened, her eyes growing wide.
He turned to see Lady June standing at the edge of the terrace, her expression stricken with fury and alarm. When April recognized her, she sagged back against the hedge and sighed.
“Do you comprehend what might occur were you to be seen like this, Sister?”
April said nothing while Theo remained where he was. He did not relinquish his stance, nor did he apologize. His voice, when it came, was low and unyielding. “Then half my difficulties would be resolved.”
June stared at him, aghast.
April moved then, her hand brushing his chest as she stepped aside—not far but far enough to cool the fragile heat that lingered between them. The moment between them fractured.
Theo looked at her once more. There was still no answer. No kiss. Only the ache of restraint.
He watched her return to the ballroom with her sister, the night swallowing words he was yet to say to her.
I shall make you my wife, April. And I will not apologize for it.
Thirteen
April did not brood. Brooding was for novel heroines in white nightdresses and a penchant for haunting the upper galleries. She was simply… reflective. Intensely so. With occasional sighing.
She had risen early but declined breakfast, instead hiding away in her bedchamber with an open book. She hadn’t turned a page of in half an hour. The quiet was companionable if slightly overbearing. That is until Lady June entered without knocking.
“You are missing breakfast,” June announced, sweeping into the room with the energy of someone who had never doubted the security of her own opinions. “And the opportunity to dramatically await your duke’s arrival with flowers upon a noble steed.”
April looked up from her chaise. “The Duke of Stone would sooner present himself astride a library desk than on a horse with ribbons in its mane.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain. You’ve already softened him into sending poetry. The descent into ribbons can’t be far behind.”
April laughed, but the sound was half-hearted. June heard it. Saw it.
She sat beside her, gaze narrowing. “All right. What’s troubling you?”
April hesitated, fingers brushing the edge of her book. “I don’t understand him. I don’t understand what it is about me that he wants. And he’s not inclined to let me get close enough to discover it.”
June was silent for a moment, uncharacteristically so. Then, “Perhaps he doesn’t know how to let you.”
April blinked.
“You forget, you are intimidating in your own right. And he is not the sort of man accustomed to revealing himself. He may not be hiding something awful. He may just be… hiding.”
April gave a faint snort. “He’s a master at it.”
June shrugged. “Then be patient. Or if you cannot bear the waiting, marry him and learn what you wish to know from within the safety of the arrangement. It is not as though he has proved a monster.”
April sighed. “He hasn’t.”
“And you do want him.”
That earned June a pointed look. She grinned, victorious.
Before April could reply, a soft knock sounded at the door. A moment later, the butler’s voice drifted in from the hall.
“Breakfast is served, My Lady.”
