“I cannot begin to imagine,” Declan mumbled. If memory served, she’d been trying to enlist him as her own paramour. But there was no need to recall that now. Or ever. He’d not touched Knightly Snow, not once, despite her repeated attempts at seduction.
“Miss Snow,” he sighed, trying again, “let us start over. Where the bloody hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you for the good part of a year. Your parents accused me ofabducting you, andI went to prison.”
“Stop!” cooed Knightly. “They told me you’d be investigated but not charged. That you’d be exonerated in the end.”
“Who told you?” asked Declan. “Are you saying youknewI was being accused of abducting you?”
Knightly Snow sighed as if she was being asked to recite a familiar poem for the entertainment of grandparents. “Those savages at the palace gave me a bit of money...” she winked at Helena and made a pinching gesture with her thumb and pointer finger, “...if I promised to make myself scarce when we got to France. They were so insistent their precious Crown Prince should recover from his heartbreak. Poor man, he loved me so very much.”
“They paid you to evade me?” Declan hissed. He spun away. “They knew all along. I should have known. What a fool I have been!”
Knightly Snow laughed as if it was the most hilarious prank. She told Helena, “They felt the prince would cling to the vain hope of my return if I wasn’t... in a manner... dead.”
Declan spun back. “Let us forget for the moment that an innocent man was accused and sent to Newgate, Knightly. But you’ve let the world believe you’d been kidnapped and... and done in. Even your parents!”
“Shhh,” said Knightly, holding a finger to her pouty lips. “I’m not meant to talk about it. But of course I had to tell you. I felt honor-bound to relieve any great guilt you might harbor. For killing me.”
“I did not kill you! Obviously.”
“That’s why I’ve been following you,” she continued. “Also, the South of France in winter is such a bore.”
“Why did you take so long to reveal yourself?” Declan demanded. “Why stalk us for weeks?”
“Oh, that. Well, the palace put a date on when I could ‘reemerge’ in London if I wanted the balance of my lovely money. But I wanted to come home. And I thought to myself, I know, I shall fashion a disguise. Something mysterious and ominous. Like a little witch. A beautiful little witch.” She smiled and drew up her hood, and then let it fall. She giggled. “Clever, don’t you think?”
Declan stared at her. Did he feel relief or rage? The two emotions roiled inside of him like the fires of hell. Helena must have seen it on his face, because she clasped his hand.
“Knightly,” he began, trying to remain calm, “you cannot fathom the agony you have put me through. You are— You are—”
Helena stepped up. “Let us not insult Miss Snow,” she said carefully. “It’s clear she meant... no real, er... harm.” She forced out these words like she was swallowing bad milk.
She cleared her throat. “We’ll need her to travel to her family and show herself. We’ll need everyone to know that she is alive and completely unharmed by you.” She looked at Knightly. “Am I correct in assuming that you’ll attest to being unharmed by Declan?”
Knightly Snow let out a breathy sigh. “Of course.”
Helena added, “And that Shaw and you are very... friendly.” She shot Declan a raised-eyebrow glance.
“Oh, we are the very best of friends,” confirmed Knightly, throwing herself against him again. Declan stood like a post and allowed her to hang.
“Lovely,” said Helena, dropping his hand. “Are you such good friends that you would be willing to tempt the... disappointment of the palace by dropping the disguise and showing yourself? Now? For the sake of Declan’s exoneration?”
“Of course!” she said, hopping back. “The disguise was diverting for a time, but I’ve grown rather bored of it actually. And I bought so many lovely gowns on the Continent...”
In what Declan remembered as one of her signature gestures, Knightly Snow flung off her black cloak to reveal a tricolored dress, with yellow skirt, bright-blue bodice, and red sleeves.
The bodice was cut so low on her ample breasts Declan squeezed his eyes shut. Beside him, Helena was laughing. He opened one eye. Yes, it was true. His wife was so amused she’d put a hand over her mouth to hold in the laughter.
The hem of Knightly’s skirt was short enough to reveal trim ankles. He’d never seen so many vivid colors on such a small garment in his life.
“Do you like it?” Knightly cooed.
“Knightly?” he clipped. “Helena is correct. You owe me the, er, ‘favor’ of exoneration. We will go to your parents and show them that you’re alive—nay, that you are veritably bursting with life.”
“I’ve already been to Cornwall,” said Knightly. “Where do you think I’m staying in London? In our townhome. You are exonerated, Declan—andyou’re welcome. I dare the palace to try andthreaten me. I was exiled, plain and simple. And no amount of money is worth cooling my heels in a deserted French ocean villagein winter.” She made a face.
Declan stared at her, trying to believe what she said. He looked to Helena. She was smiling a faint, cautious smile.
“Were you surprised?” Knightly now asked, jumping up and down. “Even a little? You were such a gentleman, so handsome and strong, on that dreadful journey to France. I couldn’t put it out of my mind, the thought of returning to England, surprising you, and...” she said as she extended two fingers and walked them up his arm like a spider, “...learning if you might like to—”
