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"I know that too. And I blame myself for your condition." he confessed bitterly, his voice cracking with self-reproach. "If I had remained at Cavendish Manor where my duty lay, if I had not been such a wretched coward, you would never have been upon that lonely road. It was my arrogance, my foolish desire to protect my own heart, that brought you into harm's way."

Helena shook her head softly. "Do not blame yourself. Blame my stubbornness that couldn't give up on the man I love."

"You... you love me?" George whispered, his voice trembling. "After my coldness, after my indifference... after everything?"

"I have loved you for a very long time, Your Grace," Helena answered softly, a radiant smile illuminating her face. "I loved you when you sat across from me in the drawing room, a cold Duke who only cared that I kept to his rules. I loved you when you challenged my mind and treated me as your equal. And I loved you most of all when you rode through that dreadful storm, risking your life to pull me from the dark."

George let out a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head.

"I do not deserve you, Helena," he murmured against her skin. "By Heaven, I do not deserve the grace you give me. But I swear to you upon my brother's memory and my own soul, I shall spend every day of my remaining life striving to be worthy of your trust. You and Oliver are my home. There is no fortress, no distance, and no pride that will ever tear me from your side again."

Helena closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his presence wash over her, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath her hand.

"I still have to win that game of chess." she stated, her tone ringing with the sharp wit that had first captured his heart.

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Now see here, Oliver," George declared as he allowed the boy to pull his head forward. "This fold took my valet twenty minutes of arduous labor to achieve, and you dismantle it in three seconds with utter impunity."

Oliver let out a chuckle as he released the cravat only to reach for the gleaming silver buttons of George's waistcoat. Instead of pulling away or calling for a servant, George leaned lower, contorting his face into a ridiculous expression that caused the boy to burst into delighted laughter. Then George caught sight of Helena standing by the door in silence, and his face lit up with a smile that made her pulse quicken.

"Your Grace," Helena murmured. "I see you are permitting Oliver to conduct an absolute riot before noon."

George replied as Oliver patted George's jaw. "I assure you, I am maintaining complete control."

"Your cravat suggests otherwise," Helena countered teasingly, drawing closer to smooth down the crumpled linen at his neck, her fingers lingering against the warm skin of his throat. "Though I must admit, the unraveled look suits a gentleman of your formidable reputation."

George leaned his face into her touch, resting his cheek against her hand while Oliver let out a contented sigh. They spent the remainder of the afternoon together, George dangling his gold pocket watch just out of Oliver's reach while Helena sat beside them, drinking in the peaceful sanctuary they had built together.

As the clock chimed six, Helena rose gracefully from her chair, taking Oliver into her arms, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before handing him over to the smiling nursemaid.

"He has been an absolute angel all afternoon," Helena said warmly. "Though I fear His Grace has thoroughly spoiled his sense of decorum."

Helena watched the nursemaid leave with Oliver, then turned slowly toward her husband. George stood near his desk, attempting to tuck the ruined ends of his cravat back beneath his waistcoat.

Helena walked toward him, stopping just on the opposite side of the chess table.

"One last game tonight?" Helena asked, tilting her head slightly as a spirited smile played upon her lips.

George paused, his hands dropping from his collar as he looked up in mild surprise. "Last?"

"Yes," Helena replied smoothly, resting her slender hands against the polished edge.

George raised an eyebrow, stepping out from behind his desk and moving toward her. "Why?"

"Because tonight, I shall finally put an end to your winning streak," Helena declared, her eyes shining with confidence.

George laughed, a melodic sound that sent a delightful shudder down Helena's spine. "You have been threatening that since the very first game."

"Yes, but I have been preparing," Helena countered instantly, taking a single step forward so that only a breath of space separated them.

A devilish grin touched the corners of George's lips as he closed the remaining distance between them. He leaned down, his tall frame looming over her, until his warm breath brushed against the sensitive shell of her ear.

"Then I have something very special for you to wear," he whispered, sending a searing heat through her veins.

Helena gasped softly, a burning blush dancing along the column of her neck and swiftly spreading to her cheeks. What can he possibly mean?

Few minutes later, Helena entered her dressing chamber, skin still tingling with the echo of his whisper. There, waiting upon the velvet chaise was a polished cedar box.