“You wish to have a drink with me?” she asked again. Slowly. “Right now?”
“You know, if you continue to repeat yourself, we are going to be here all night,” he joked. “Better that we skip to the end and you just agree. Now, come on…” He walked past her, headed toward the drawing room. “I’m thinking a whiskey might?—”
“No,” she said finally. “I do not want to have a drink with you.”
He turned back and frowned curiously. “You don’t?”
“Of course I don’t! Why would you think—What is going on? I do not understand what you are trying to do.”
“Helena, remind me because I might be misremembering, but were you not the one who earlier today was complaining about my spending the past week ignoring you? Did you not imply that you wanted me to try harder?”
“I…” She hesitated, wanting to tell him that he was mistaken, while knowing very well that he was not. “It is not that simple.”
“Apparently not.”
She did not know how to explain what was wrong. She did not even know what was wrong! This was all so confusing, and she was at pains to figure out why.
Yes, she had been angry that he had ignored her all week. And yes, his suggesting they have a drink should have brought her relief. But she could not get past this evening, how she had felt when he had praised and complimented her, and now she was worried that she might give him the wrong signal.
Or maybe she would read this situation the wrong way. What if… Was there a chance she might fall for him?
That sounds ludicrous. But whenever I think of how he treated me this evening, when his eyes worshipped me… it is not so strange to consider.
“I was wrong,” she forced herself to say. “What I said earlier, about you avoiding me. I was wrong to be so upset with you.”
“Were you now?” He tilted his head, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “I am only asking to have a drink, Helena. It is a strange thing to admit, but you were right about what you said. If this is going to work, we really should get to know one another better.”
“No, we should not,” she retorted. “There is no need. If this evening proved anything, it would make little difference and…”
She felt her heart thud, the desire to swallow her words and accept the drink.
He was watching her closely, his stare piercing, not as loving as it had been this evening but just as alluring.
“And I wish to remind you of what I said when I first arrived here. What you promised.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked.
“This marriage is not real,” she insisted. “Nor will it ever be. For that reason, I think it is best if…” She grimaced and looked away. “If we continue as we have been. It is for the best.”
She almost waited for him to argue. She wanted him to. But that was dangerous, and she did not trust herself. Or him, for that matter.
Having said her piece, determined to believe it was the right thing to say, Helena put her head down and stormed past him. And thankfully, he did not try to stop her.
Helena was a storyteller. For as long as she could remember, she had lived in her own head, constructing tales of pure fantasy and exaggeration, often forgetting the real world or even mistaking it for the stories she loved to create. Harmless, she had always thought. A way to escape and forget what was expected of her.
Now, she was beginning to see the danger.
She was struggling to separate fact from fiction, unable to see the difference between the lies the Duke told and the truth. Itconfused her, made her question herself, and was leading her down paths she did not want and was at pains to avoid.
Best that she realize this now and put an end to it. Best that she not let it go any further. Perhaps she and the Duke might get along. Perhaps there was a chance they could find a middle ground and be companionable, so the next few months would not be so terrible.
But it was a risk; she had already tripped over once, and the last thing she wanted was to fall flat on her face and ruin everything.
And embarrass myself terribly while I am at it.
The Duke had no feelings for her. She had no feelings for him. Recognized now, admitted to by her, committed to because that would make things easier.
It would be a long and lonely few months, Helena knew, but at least she would come out the other side as she had started—alone… and better off for it.
