“You what?” he said viciously when she hesitated.
“I didn’t know if you would care. You were already so furious with me,” she added hastily when he cursed again. “And everything was happening so fast. I didn’t know if you would believe me, and even if you did, I didn’t know what you could do–”
“I could have stopped it.” Blue eyes alight with a fire she’d never seen before, he grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a small, painless shake. “I would have stopped it. By God, Helena, to think of all the years we’ve suffered over this–”
“There was nothing simple about any of it,” she interrupted. “If I didn’t marry your father, then my sister would have had to. That’s why I did not have a choice. That’s why I did what I did.” There was nothing she could do to stop the single tear that trickled down her cheek. “And that’s why I don’t regret any of it.”
It was true, she realized. She didn’t regret any of it. Not when Dahlia was happily married, and she had two beautiful nieces to spoil, and a life where she didn’t have to answer to anyone, least of all a man.
Yes, it had been hard, and painful, and humiliating. She’d done things she’d never dreamed possible in her very worst nightmares. But it was because of those things, and those choices, and those decisions, that she was where she was today. That she was who she was today.
And she wouldn’t apologize for it.
“What do you want to do now?” she asked.
“Now I don’t know whether I want to strangle you…”
“Or?” she prompted when he paused.
His gaze darkened with desire. “Or kiss you.”
Chapter Eleven
Stephen had arrived at Winchester Manor with every intention of confronting Helena for the last time. Instead, he had finally learned the truth. A truth that part of him had always suspected, but never confirmed, because had he done that…had he done that he would have been just as guilty as he’d convinced himself Helena was. Even guiltier, for he damned well should have stopped the wedding.
But he hadn’t.
Instead he’d let his pride take control, and it had cost his heart dearly. A heart that had never stopped beating for the woman gazing at him with luminous green eyes. For even when he’d hated her, he’d still loved her. He’d never had a choice. He’d belonged to her the first moment he saw her, which was what had made the cut of her perceived betrayal all the deeper.
He and Helena had both allowed their stubbornness to get the better of them, and in turn, they’d lost years of time that could have been spent together. Years of time they could never get back.
But he wasn’t about to repeat the mistakes of his past.
Not when they had a chance at a new future.
“Stephen,” she whispered, and the soft quiver in her voice was his undoing.
“Helena. Oh, God, Helena.” Sinking his fingers into her hair, he lowered his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
Their kiss was like a bolt of lightning streaking across an angry, tumultuous sky.
It brought light to the darkness.
Clarity to the confusion.
Hope to the hurt.
In the garden all those years ago they’d both been tentative. Now they were desperate. Dimly, he registered her nails digging into the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips to taste the sweet nectar within. He swallowed her moan, and the muscles in his abdomen went tight as a drum when she returned the favor.
He skimmed his fingers down her back, following the delicate line of her spine until he reached the swell of her bottom. Her eyes flew open when he cupped her there and he grinned against her mouth, both enthralled and delighted when she nipped the tip of his tongue in a teasing admonishment.
When the kiss was over, they leaned into each other. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her protectively against his chest with his chin resting on top of her head. She burrowed against him, a tiny bird seeking shelter in the storm. For a precious moment, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply be.
To be happy. To be content.
To be with the woman he loved.
Because he did love her. He’d always loved her, even in their darkest moments. Which was why, in his bruised heart of hearts, it was time to admit he had never come here to end things between himself and Helena.
He’d come to begin them.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely. “I love you, and I’m sorry–”
“No.” The hand splayed across his sternum stopped him short, as did the raw pain etched across Helena’s beautiful face as she drew back and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “You don’t love me, Stephen. And you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who is sorry. I…” Tears filled her eyes and choked her voice. “I cannot do this.”
“What do you mean you…Helena!” He shouted her name when she wrenched free of his grasp and began to run as fast as her slender legs could carry her. For a few precious seconds he could only stare at her retreating back in stunned silence, but then with a vicious curse he gave chase. He’d let Helena go once. He’d be damned if he made the same mistake a second time.
He caught up to her easily, but when he tried to put a hand on her shoulder, she slapped it away.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Each word was like a bullet to his heart.
A heart that had already withstood so much.
How much more could he possibly be expected to endure?
“Don’t do this, Helena. Please.” Later, as Stephen stared into the bottom of a glass of bourbon, it would strike him as bitterly ironic that he’d wanted to see Helena beg. And now he was the one who was pleading. “Talk to me. Just talk.” He gazed at her beseechingly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it all out. I promise.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” She pressed her fingertips to her bottom lip when it trembled. “There’s nothing more to say. You – you need to forget this kiss ever happened. You need to forget me.”
This time when she ran away from him, he didn’t go after her.
Chapter Twelve
Two Weeks Later
“Hello!” Calliope’s voice rang excitedly through the manor as she stepped into the foyer and spun in a circle, half-expecting her dear friends to come rushing out to greet her any second. But when one second turned to ten and ten turned into a minute, she looked up at her husband and frowned. “I don’t know where they are.”
“I’m sure they’re just outside,” Leo assured her.
“In the pouring rain?” Calliope asked dubiously.
The skies had opened up the morning they’d left Scotland and it had been raining buckets ever since. Their return home had been delayed by two days due to the main road being washed out, but they’d found plenty to do in a cozy little inn.
Her cheeks warming from the memories of their honeymoon, Calliope pulled off her wet cloak and hat as she crossed the room and peered into the parlor. It was empty. So was the second parlor, and the drawing room, and the library.
“Maybe they returned to London,” Leo suggested as he came up behind her, his hands resting familiarly on her waist. Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck, then pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “Which means we have the entire house to ourselves.”
“We need to find them.”
On a sigh, her husband rocked back on his heels. “Do we, though?”
“Yes,” she said succinctly. “What if something happened to Percy?”
“No one would have gotten past Helena, least of all Glastonbury. Weasely bastard,” Leo muttered under his breath. When he’d learned of what had happened to Percy, he’d been outraged and would have challenged the duke to pistols at dawn if Calliope hadn’t stopped him. “I’m sure your friends are safe. They’ve probably gone on a little excursion, or maybe they’re taking a nap, for all we know.”
“Before afternoon tea? Besides, they’re not just my friends,” Calliope said as she marched t
owards the music room. “We’re like sisters. We’ve even formed a society.”
“Is that so?” Leo asked, lifting a brow. “What is it called?”
“Well, I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret. It even has secret in the name.” Calliope saw a harp and a pianoforte, but no Percy or Helena. How odd. She’d written to tell them when she and Leo would be returning, and given they were two days later than expected, she’d thought her friends would be waiting to meet them at the door.
“I am going to check upstairs,” she decided.
“There’s lots of bedrooms upstairs,” Leo said with mock gravitas. “I should definitely join you.”
Calliope squealed when he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a bag of thistledown. “Put me down,” she insisted even as her pulse quickened and heat stole between her thighs. “I’m perfectly capable of looking by myself.”
“Yes,” he murmured before he traced the delicate shell of her ear with his tongue. “But what’s the fun in that?”
“I…what was the question?” she gasped as her head lolled back against his chest in helpless surrender.
With a husky laugh, Leo carried her to the base of the stairs. But before he could begin his ascent, Percy appeared at the top. As soon as she saw them standing below, her entire face brightened.
“You’re back!” she cried before she began to race down the steps two at a time in a swirl of violet skirts. “Oh, I’m so pleased to see you.”
Calliope started to squirm. “Leo, let me go.”
“I thought we were going upstairs,” he said sourly.
“There’ll be time for that later.”
“Fine.” Grumbling, he reluctantly set her down, nodded at Percy, and then excused himself. “I’m going to see what there is to eat.”
“Food and lovemaking,” Calliope said fondly as she watched her husband hurry off towards the kitchen. “That’s all he seems to care about anymore.” She grinned at Percy. “It’s absolutely marvelous.”
“I suppose then that there’s no need to ask how the honeymoon went,” the duchess remarked as she reached the bottom of the staircase. “You’re glowing from your head to your feet.”
“Am I?” Calliope said happily. “I guess I am. Marriage is better than I could have ever dreamed. And I…oh,” she exclaimed when a troubled line appeared in the middle of the Percy’s forehead. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel poorly. Of course, not all marriages are–”
“No, no.” Percy cut her off with a shake of her head. “I’m ecstatic for you and Leo. Just because my own marriage hasn’t worked doesn’t mean I cannot be thrilled for yours. It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Calliope asked.
Percy sighed. “It’s Helena.”
“Go away.” Dragging a pillow over her face, Helena closed her eyes and tried to block out the sounds of incessant pounding on her bedchamber door. “I said, go away!”
“Helena, it’s me.” Calliope’s voice was muffled, but unmistakable. “Won’t you come out? Percy said you’ve been in there for days.”
“It hasn’t been days.”
“Three, at last count,” Percy chimed in. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything at all.”
“I’ve been drinking,” Helena countered.
“Wine doesn’t count.”
“Well, it should.” Throwing the pillow onto the floor, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the blue silk canopy draped over her bed. “Come in. The door isn’t locked.”
She heard the knob turn, and then the rustle of muslin as Calliope and Percy tip toed inside.
“It’s dark as a tomb in here,” Percy noted.
“Wait. Don’t open the – argh,” Helena complained when the duchess threw back the drapes and sunlight spilled into her eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Eat,” Calliope said, picking up a piece of cold toast off a serving tray and holding it out. “Then we’ll discuss your life choices, beginning with why you’ve been in hiding and what happened to your hair.”
“My hair?” Helena’S fingers crept self-consciously to her head. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“It looks like a mouse took up residence in it.”
“An entire family of mice,” Percy added as she opened the last drape before turning towards the bed. “Sisters, brothers, mayhap even a cousin or two.”
“Or seven,” said Calliope.
Helena bared her teeth. “If you’ve come in here just to insult me–”
“We’ve come in here because we care about you,” Percy corrected as she sat down beside Helena and gently brushed a snarled tendril behind her ear. “And because I’ve never seen you in such a state.”
“Neither have I. Eat,” Calliope said sternly, thrusting the serving tray at Helena. “Right now. You look as if you’ve lost at least half a stone.”
Because she was hungry, Helena obediently picked up the bread into her mouth. It was dry and plain, but it was food. Calliope poured her a glass of water, which helped the toast go down a bit easier, and by the time she’d finished eating the pounding in her head had marginally subsided.
But the aching in her heart…
Well, that was there to stay.
“Thank you for coming to my aid,” she said, looking at Calliope and Percy in turn. “However, this is not something you can help me with.”
“Let us be the judges of that,” said Percy, reaching across Helena’s lap to grasp her hand. She squeezed it tightly. “What happened? All I know is that Lord Cambridge was here. Then he wasn’t, and you’ve been despondent ever since.”
Helena pulled at a loose seam on the coverlet. “I don’t know if I’d describe myself as despondent. That’s rather dramatic.”
“Mice,” Calliope reminded her. “In your hair.”
“Oh, there aren’t mice in my hair.” She scowled at her so-called ‘friend’.
Percy eyed Helena’s braid. Or what was left of it after three days without running a comb through the tumultuous curls. “There could be. I’m going to ring for a hot bath. Is Ives about? He’ll know what to do with your hair.”
The ache in Helena’s chest increased. “I sent him back to London.”
“You did?” Calliope’s brow furrowed. “But…why?”
“To look for employment.”
“I still do not understand.”
Helena drew her knees up and looped her arms around them, like a child might in the midst of a thunderstorm. Except this was a storm that showed no signs of abating.
When she’d run from Stephen on that ill-fated morning two weeks ago, she had known, somewhere down deep inside, that she was doing what was best for both of them. But that didn’t make the pain of it any less. That didn’t make her feel any better. And even though she’d hoped time would heal her wounds, with each passing day, she only felt worse.
“Stephen – Lord Cambridge – was my benefactor. Now he is not. Which means I can no longer afford Ives’s salary.”
Or my house, she added silently. Or food. Or clothes.
Oddly enough, that wasn’t what concerned her the most. If she were honest, she didn’t even really care about the money. Because it had never been about the money.
It had always, always been about Stephen.
If only she hadn’t let him kiss her! If only she hadn’t opened her heart back up to love. If only she hadn’t realized what she was missing. Then surely, she wouldn’t have this…this decay inside of her. This awful, smothering weight pressing down on her soul even as everything else crumbled away.
“I told you,” Percy murmured, glancing at Calliope.
“You told her what?” Helena said, lifting her head.
“That you loved him. And I know he loves you.” She bit her lip. “What I cannot fathom is why he left.”
“He didn’t leave. Not exactly.” When her throat tightened, Helena reached for her glas
s of water only to find it empty.
“Here,” Calliope said, quickly lifting the pitcher.
“Thank you.” Taking a sip of cool water, she closed her eyes, then opened them. “Stephen didn’t leave,” she repeated. “I – I sent him away.”
And for all her life, she’d never forget the hurt in his face when she’d told him not to touch her.
“This is ridiculous!” In an unprecedented display of anger, Percy slid off the bed. Violet eyes bright with fury, she jabbed her finger at Helena. “And I won’t stand for it! Do you hear me?”
Helena’s mouth opened in shock. “I...”
“Stephen loves you. And you love him! Do you know how rare that is?” she demanded.
“Um…” Helena glanced helplessly at Calliope, who simply shrugged and held up her hands as if to say, ‘I’m not going to argue with her’.
“Furthermore,” Percy continued, “I will not – I will not – allow a foolish miscommunication to take that love away from you! If you won’t tell Stephen why you married his father, then I will. You’re kind and passionate and loyal, Helena, and you deserve this love. More than you deserve to sit in a dark room and feel sorry for yourself!” She took a deep breath. “And that is all I have to say on the matter.”
“That was brilliant,” Calliope declared. “Positively brilliant. I couldn’t have said it better myself. Percy, you’re a force.”
A pleased blush overtook the duchess’s cheeks. “Do you really think so?” Then she peeked at Helena, and some of her color disappeared. “I – I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have yelled, and I–”
“No, you should have yelled.” Throwing aside her blankets, Helena stood up and wrapped Percy in a hug. “And you’re right, Stephen and I do love each other. But…it’s complicated.”
Percy drew back. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” she argued. “If you’d just tell him–”
“I did,” Helena interrupted.
“Oh. Well, that’s splendid! But then…why did you send him away?”
Courting the Countess of Cambridge (Secret Wallflower Society Book 2) Page 9