Nicholas straightened slowly, the ribbon clutched in his fist.
For a moment he felt…nothing.
Then everything hit at once.
Anger.Not the clean, satisfying anger he sometimes felt in debate, but a muddled, painful sort that tangled with something like panic.She’d walked through his house alone, and slipped past his servants, out into the street.Without him.Without the cloak of his protection.With no idea what waited for her at home, having been gone so long…alone.
And fully knowing he knew her secret now.
Hell.He raked a hand through his hair.
Of course she’d run.The second she was left alone with her thoughts, she would have seen what he had stubbornly refused to acknowledge while her skin was still warm under his hands.
She had been trying to tell him.She had almost told him.
He had kissed her instead.
He looked down at the ribbon in his hand.
Bea.
B.Adroit.
His future wife.His most dangerous enemy.
He had been an utter fool.
