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“Perhaps you’d like something to drink?”

Helen swallowed, then slowly nodded. “I would love that.”

There was a beat of silence with only her breathing audible in the quiet night. “I’ll be right back with your drink.” Then he turned away, and she heard his retreating footsteps.

* * *

If Ian had doubted his plan to seduce Mrs. St. John, the moment her soft hand pressed against his, her eyes darkening as she looked at him under the moonlight, her pulse beating rapidly against her skin and reverberating through his body, all of his doubts evaporated.

He was definitely going to seduce her. And it wouldn’t be difficult either.

His mood lifted, he walked away from the balcony with confidence in his stride.

When they danced with Mrs. St. John, they moved fluidly together. She fit into his arms as if she was made to be there. It was a rather idyllic thought, but very apt to describe what it felt like to dance with her.

He’d not known a lot about her. Usually, before engaging with a potential source or a pawn, he’d made it his duty to find out everything he could about them. Thus far, all he knew about Mrs. St. John was that she was a widow of an adulterous man, she was rather sickly, and she was currently living under the roof of her late husband’s cousin. That last was what interested Ian the most.

But it wasn’t what he concentrated on now. Because right now, he also knew that she’d melted in his arms and that her eyes turned from golden brown to the color of dark coffee when she looked at him.

She’d been aroused.

One kiss, and she’d fall right into his arms.

He didn’t want to rush. After all, quick rutting on the balcony was not what he was looking for. He needed to romance Mrs. St. John. He needed to make her trust him, tell him all her secrets and even her cousin-in-law’s secrets, and invite him into her home.

And once she did, he would find all the evidence he needed to prosecute her cousin-in-law and get back into the king’s good graces.

Ian took a glass of wine from a footman’s tray and moved back to the balcony. Mrs. St. John’s glinting eyes, her soft, rosy lips, and her hips swaying to the music played before his eyes.

It would not be a hardship trying to seduce that woman. Hell, he was half-seduced already.

All he needed was—

Ian stepped onto the balcony only to realize that it was empty. The woman he was dreaming about had left without a single word.

Ian smiled.

So it would not be as easy as he thought. He took a sip of wine. Even better.

Chapter 5

The day after the ball, Helen sat on the edge of her bed, her gaze fixed on the wall.

She’d just spent some time playing in the garden with Laney and Olivia. It was rather gloomy outside, which was fine with her as she was unable to spend a lot of time in the sun.

Now, she was tired, spent, and rather… empty.

She was tired of feeling empty, too.

She didn’t know what was wrong. But even with her constant illness, she’d never felt like this before. At least, not before Greyson’s passing.

Since then, she had always felt like a part of her had died with him and she was just going through the motions to get from one day to the next.

Helen closed her eyes. She wanted to shake herself to get rid of the dire thoughts. She wanted to get back to the way she was before. It was difficult to explain even to herself what exactly she was feeling. The best she could describe was that she wanted to live. And whatever state she was stuck in now was between living and being dead.

She loved spending time with Laney, she laughed and smiled, playing with her. But she was just so tired, and every time she was alone, she wanted to cease to exist.

No, it wasn’t only when she was alone. Last night, at the ball, she had the same sensation even surrounded by a crowd of people. That was until Lord McAllistair joined her on the balcony and stirred something within her, a spark that she’d thought was long gone.