His nose. Dear God. His nose.
“Impossible.” Helen took another step back, shaking her head as if that would make any of this better. Had she hit her head? Gone mad at some point? There was no freckle at the end of Roxboro’s nose. Nor any imperfection at all.Thisduke was flawless. Which meant—
The gaudy coat. The longer hair. His speech.
“Louder,” the duchess warned in her own crisp tone which brooked no disobedience. “No muttering in the duke’s box.”
Well, of course not. The duchess was daughter to the Earl of Canterbell. Lord Speaker of Parliament and Helen—
“I think I’ve made a mistake,” she choked, the absurd realization not so ridiculous after all, because there simply could be no other explanation. But she’d kissed that mouth. Stared into those eyes. Touched the freckle on that damned nose.
Oh, not this nose. Nor this man.
“There’s no freckle. There’s nofreckle,” she said in a panicked tone. “Do you have it covered?” But Helen knew he didn’t. The freckle simply wasn’t there.
“I what?” Roxboro looked down at her, his lips pulling together in a ducal pout. Dark brows flew up. “Ah.”
“But how can there be two?” Helen fretted quietly, the shock so great she was certain she’d swoon. Faint. Fall at this man’s feet. The actual bloody Duke of Roxboro. “You are the Duke of Roxboro,” she said stupidly. “There’s only one and he said…”
Galway would surely sack her if he found out about this. He’d been looking for a reason to toss her out without references and the bonus promised her. This was it. Insulting a duke during a terrible play. No cottage. No cat.
Retreating is often the best course of action.
“I’ve—please excuse me.”
“You’ve seen him.” The duchess grabbed Helen’s arm in a tight grip. “The man who pretends to be the Duke of Roxboro. Because that,” she pointed at the stunning creature beside her. “Is my husband and I can most definitely confirm he has no freckle on his nose. Or anywhere else on his person.”
Helen swayed, wishing she could simply disappear.
Seemed ludicrous now, at seeing the real Roxboro that she’d ever thought the other man was really a duke. There were small,barely visible differences between the two, so slight one might never notice had you not met both. Their speech was entirely different, though the timbre of their voices, the tonal quality, was similar. The man before her was elegant, with a bearing that suggested if he wasn’t a duke, he was bloody important all the same. Her Roxboro was…rougher around the edges. Bulkier in the shoulders. Not quite as lean. The clothing alone—
“You aren’t going anywhere,” the duke commanded. “Until you tell us who is going about London claiming to be me.”
“Incredibly ducal, you cloying dandy. You’re scaring her, Your Grace.” The duchess said from beside him before turning to Helen. “Come over here.” She steered Helen to the other side of the box away from the rest of the guests. A stunning smile burst across her features as she said loudly so that everyone might hear. “Goodness, how lovely to see you again. It’s been ages, I confess.”
The whispers halted. The older matron who’d seen Helen enter shrugged and lost interest. As did everyone else.
I need to leave.
Not unless she shook the duchess free which wasn’t happening. Helen’s heart was bumping so loudly in her chest that was all she could hear. She tried to take a deep breath and failed.
The duchess turned her back on the rest of the box and faced Helen. She wasn’t…threatening. Not exactly. More relentless in her pursuit.
Roxboro, the real duke, joined them, sauntering up beside his duchess, hand possessively dropping to her waist.
They don’t walk the same either.
“What is your name?” the duchess asked.
Helen swallowed. The Duchess of Roxboro was a force to be reckoned with even she could see it. “Miss Helen Cosgrove. I ama lady’s companion and chaperone, Your Grace, in the employ of Lord Galway.”
“Galway.” Roxboro made a sound of dislike.
Helen tried not to look at him. It was far too distracting. “I first encountered the…other Roxboro, I mean the man impersonating the duke, during a ball held by Lady Stout. He was…attempting to engage my charge, Lady Cerise.”
The duchess cocked her head. “He stole something.”
Not a question. “Yes, an emerald pendant right from Lady Cerise’s neck. I only looked away for a moment and—”
