Page 42 of The Haunted Duke

“Evander, I did not know he would do something like this,” Damien insisted.

“What?” Evander asked.

“Are you even listening to me?” Damien asked.

Evander nodded, keeping his eyes on Helena and Jeremy, observing every smile and touch they exchanged as they moved around at the first party of the week. He nearly lost his breath when he saw Helena come back downstairs in her ball gown. It was a stunning, brilliant white gown with a corseted waist, cupped sleeves, and a wide skirt. A wide, silk blue ribbon, matching the shade of his eyes, was wrapped around her waist, making her look like a present ready for him to unwrap. However, he had to keep reminding himself that she was not for him; she was for Jeremy, and he made that clear by resting his hand on Helena’s lower back.

He is Damien’s brother, Evander reminded himself. You cannot kill him. You cannot even want to.

But he did want to. God help him, he wanted to cross the room and pry Jeremy’s hand from her waist and tell him, plainly, that he had no right to touch what he did not truly want. He wanted it so badly that his fingers ached from the effort of not curling into fists around the glass he held.

“To be sure, I am,” Evander muttered, his eyes narrowing as Jeremy’s hand stroked passively up and down Helena’s lower back while they talked to some of their friends. Jealousy and anger flooded his veins. Jealousy for Jeremy, who could touch such a beautiful and kind woman as Helena, and anger at himself for missing his own chance the night before. He let his honor get in the way of kissing her, and even though deep down he knew he had done the right thing, he hated himself for it.

He kept thinking, absurdly, of the ring on her finger and the vows she meant to speak in a matter of days, and how none of it seemed to matter—not to his heart, which persisted in believing she was his. It was a foolish, dangerous belief, and yet he could not seem to kill it any more than he could kill the man now guiding her deeper into the crowd.

Helena had been so cryptic, so evasive when he had asked her last night if she loved Jeremy. He should have demanded answers. Should have discovered, once and for all, what was going on between Helena and Jeremy, so he could either lean in or let go. Instead, he had ranted about that silly ring.

“Did Jeremy tell you what business he was taking care of in London?” Damien went on. “He is being most evasive with me about the details. I scolded him earlier for leaving you and Miss Robinson alone to—”

Evander’s head snapped toward Damien.

“We were not alone,” he testily stated. “Her mother was here, as was your grandmother.”

Damien sighed wearily.

“That is not what I meant, Evander,” Damien insisted quietly. “I know you are a man of honor, and I would never insinuate anything less. I was just saying that I find it very strange that Jeremy left during such a crucial time. Has he spoken to you about it at all? Is he nervous? I just cannot understand why he came to London and told me nothing about it.”

Evander could hear the annoyance and worry in his friend’s voice, but all he could focus on was Helena. She kept whispering in Jeremy’s ear every few minutes, then tugging at his arm, as if she wanted to go somewhere with him. Yet, every time, Jeremy only laughed at her insistence, as if she were a child wanting a treat before dinner, and patted that spot on her lower back.

Could he not see that she was trying to speak with him? To gain his attention after being away during these last crucial days? If Helena were his, he would take her aside at once, wanting to know what she had to say… but she was not his, and that one thought had the last of his social graces withering to dust.

“Evander, are you all right? Perhaps we could—”

“I am fine, Damien,” Evander cut him off. He had no idea what his friend was going on about. All he knew was that he needed to be in a place where he could not see Helena being pawed at by the man who was ignoring her needs.

He turned to his friend, guilt piercing his heart as he saw the helpless look in Damien’s eyes. He was trying to be a good friend, and it was Evander’s mood that was not allowing it.

“Forgive me, Damien,” Evander insisted, the sharpness in his tone replaced with exhaustion. “I want to speak with you. I just… I need a moment to myself. Too many people…”

“It is all right,” Damien quickly encouraged, stepping aside. “You have done nothing that requires my forgiveness. We will speak later.”

If only you knew…

Evander hurried through the crowded room toward the door. He was nearly there when his name was called loudly from the front of the room, causing the hum of conversation to abruptly stop as all eyes turned to him. Evander froze, tension tightening every already-tense tendon in his body as he felt the weight of the crowd’s expectations.

“Evander, my good man, do not go just yet!” Jeremy boomed. “You have to stay for my speech!”

Evander’s jaw tightened painfully as he gritted his teeth, and though his mind was demanding he do the exact opposite, he slowly forced himself to turn around and face the crowd.

“Come on up here, old boy,” Jeremy insisted, beckoning him with his glass in one hand and Helena in the other.

Every step was agony as Evander forced himself to walk through the parted crowd of guests and join Helena and Jeremy at the front of the room. He did his best to keep his eyes on Jeremy’s foolish grin, but he could not help but let his gaze slide over to Helena. While Jeremy looked as if he was having the time of his life, Helena’s smile was forced, and there was no missing the panic in her eyes. How could Jeremy not see it? How could the others not see it?

It does not matter. She is not yours, remember? She will never be yours.

Such thoughts made his stomach twist, and as he stood on the other side of Jeremy, the pain was so intense it made it impossible to even fake a smile.

“I want to thank my dear friend, the Duke of Redgrave, for his assistance during my absence,” Jeremy began, clapping Evander on the back.