He moaned and kissed her neck. “Do you know when I found it most challenging to keep my control? Around you?”
She shook her head. “The masquerade?”
“No.”
“The wet carriage after Lady Canning's?”
“No. My God, I’d only just met you. At that point I was blaming our attraction on prison.”
She laughed. “It was Madame Layfette’s?”
He nodded. “There was something about our coming together to make the plan happen. I’d just managed to admit that I was a mercenary. And then seeing you in that... in that—”
“You know I can likely bring that negligee back—”
“Nothing intended for Lusk,” he said. “Please. Only you. I want only you.”
“And you shall have me,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “One of the girls will work out. Lusk will throw me over. We will go home to the forest.”
Declan buried his face in her hair and breathed in, flipping them over again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Titus Girdleston celebrated his birthday, Declan thought, like a five-year-old girl.
The room swelled with pastel bunting, streamers, and pink roses. InDecember. Attendees were expected to bring a gift; each of which, according to Helena, he would open while they watched.
The guests included friends, business associates, political allies, and all hangers-on to the Lusk dukedom by blood or marriage. Luckily, this meant that Helena had been free to invite her three potential duchesses.
Declan had kept away on Sunday, the day after their (God help him) wedding and the night in his father’s shop. He’d left a note before they’d left Savile Row, tidied the shop as best he could, and returned Helena to her bedroom just before sunrise.
Two hours later, all grooms were expected to help the footmen set up for the birthday.
He saw Helena only in passing. He’d expected the encounters to be intense or steeped in longing, but he felt very much the way he’d felt every time he’d seen her within Lusk House.
There she walks, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Is she safe?
Is she comfortable?
When will I see her again?
The sameness of it, by no means insignificant, caused him to realize how very long he’d been in love with her. Being married did not change the strength of his love, but their shared secret did drive his anxiety to new heights. Their love should feel safe and accepted; instead, he scribbled down contingency plans and escape strategies, he thought of ways to hide her or abscond with her abroad.
He thought of his family, too, and dashed off a letter of explanation, telling them what they must do to survive in London if he was on the run.
It was terrible, and uncertain, but also so incredibly worth the risk. Helena Shaw was worth taking his already upside-down life and lighting it on fire.
Guests to the party began to arrive at 2:00 p.m. The family received them in Girdleston’s beloved green salon, the large formal sitting room that housed his tabletop collection of miniature houses, carriages, and village buildings.
Because Girdleston hoped to receive more of his beloved miniatures as gifts, and because child guests were prone to meddle with the display, he appointed two grooms to stand guard beside the tiny village. It was a stroke of incredible luck, and Declan volunteered immediately. Nettle partnered him across the table.
Declan, his heart lodged in his throat, watchedthe salon fill like a soldier watches a battle unfold.
Helena, in the pale-green dress she’d worn the day she’d arrived, stood beside her sister Camille, keeping a close eye on Lusk.
The duke, a drink already in hand, stood beside his uncle, his flat eyes staring above the heads of the guests, engaging only when addressed. On occasion, he yawned. A footman assigned to his personal care stood nearby, a refresher drink ready on a silver tray.
