In a warning tone he reserved only for his nephew, he cautioned, “Your Grace?”
The duke snapped his head up so fast his uncle flinched. Lusk stared at Girdleston as if a peasant had crept into the room and called him by his given name.
Titus paused, considered, and foolishly continued in a wheedling tone, “I was not aware that Your Grace had invited a guest. This is my birthday dinner.”
“I am not obligated to make you aware of my dinner guests,” Lusk shot back, his voice casual but with the bite of authority. “I am the duke. You celebrate your birthday in this house at my pleasure. At the moment, it is my pleasure to have a guest. Happy birthday, Uncle.”
Without appearing to think, Girdleston stood up. In the firm tone of a schoolmaster, he said, “Your Grace!”
The dinner guests swiveled their heads to the duke. Lusk had turned away to nuzzle Miss Snow, and now he went very, very still. Helena held her breath, watching his profile. For the first time ever, Lusk appeared to be formed of muscle and bone rather than flesh and air. She watched anger tighten every limb.
After a beat, the duke slowly turned back to his uncle. His eyes pinioned Girdleston’s, clear and focused and waiting.
Girdleston, seemingly unaware of his loss of control, said, “Surely you do not mean to insult yourbetrothed, Lady Helena?” He extended a hand to the table.
Helena sat still and upright, trying to look innocent and contrite and not beam with glee. Underlying it all was the thudding fear that the duke would falter, or lose heart, or bend to the pressure of his uncle. Girdleston patronized, working to remain civil. Red-hot anger veritably radiated from his face. Helena had never been afraid of Titus Girdleston, but she’d never seen him like this.
When the duke spoke, his voice was not afraid. He sounded relaxed but final. Authority rang in his lazy words.
“The betrothal is off, Titus,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He took up his wineglass and swirled the burgundy liquid. “Lady Helena and I do not suit. We have tortured her long enough, don’t you think?”
Grateful tears shot to Helena’s eyes. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She worked very hard not to dissolve into a tearful, breathless heap in her chair.
Titus said, “But, Your Grace, you’ve been betrothed to Lady Helena for these many years. We’ve an agreement with the earl and countess. Lady Helena has—”
“Lady Helena,” Lusk cut in, “does not interest me. I’ve thrown her over. Pray, someone attend her, lest she swoon.”
Helena blinked away tears in time to see Lusk shoot her a sardonic look over the brim of hisglass. He raised an ironic eyebrow. Knightly Snow let out a giggle.
Every head swiveled to Helena. She felt their collective gaze like the gust of a voracious wind. For how long had she dreamed of this moment? And yet, she wasn’t certain how to react. Should she feign heartbreak? Toss the contents of her water goblet in Lusk’s face? Slink from the room? Her mind spun. An unwitting footman had leaned in with the salt cellar when Helena remembered Declan’s advice:Keep as close to the truth as possible.
The truth was, she really wanted to speak to Lusk.
Unsteadily, she shoved from her seat. “Would His Grace grant me a moment alone to... discuss his change of heart?”
She would not rest easy until she had his assurance that this was not a one-evening stunt.
Girdleston leapt at this request. “Yes, yes,” the old man enthused, “you and the duke have a word and perhaps your differences can be smoothed over. We shall set a place for the duke’s new friend. Here.Beside me.”
Without looking at the man seated to his left, Girdleston slid his plate away and signaled to a footman. He continued, “By the time you return—”
“Miss Snow will not move from her current chair,” commanded the duke, tossing his napkin on his plate. He pushed back from the table with undue force. Before he strode from the room, he kissed Knightly Snow full on the mouth.
While stunned guests watched in motionless shock, Helena struggled to dislodge herselffrom the crowded table and hurried after the duke.
“She is a marvel,” enthused Lusk when Helena joined him in the corridor.
“Oh yes, quite,” Helena said. “I believe being marvelous is a priority to Miss Snow.”
Helena had vowed to follow his lead. If he wished to profess his appreciation of Knightly Snow, she would not contradict him. She owed her future to the marvelous Knightly Snow.
“Do you think the two of you will, er, suit?” Helena asked.
“We suit,” Lusk assured her, straightening his cravat.
“I am grateful that you are releasing me from the betrothal. I... I hope—”
“Convenient, isn’t it?” he said. “Considering you’re married to someone else.” He shot her a look of challenge.
