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The Baron looked more than happy, and a wide grin broke on his face. Helen was tired of keeping up with the facade. She only wanted to see the Duke. It was why she wore one of her best morning dresses, a simple cherry-red dress made from fine silk. She specifically wore it for the Duke, the silk clinging to her curves and making her petite body even more pleasing to the eyes.
She knew that her aunt’s eyes were on the almost decadently low neckline, barely avoiding the indecorous. It emphasized the swell of her breast, contrasting perfectly against her pale skin. Helen wanted to see the Duke’s expression when he came, so she continued to gaze at the doorway, wondering when he would arrive.
“I have another poem,” the baron said, and his smile grew wider. “Much more grandiloquent and I am sure that it will make your heart swell with pride.”
“As much as we want to hear your poetry, Lord Trencher,” Aunt Gertrude replied curtly, “there are still many suitors waiting, and the day is going by fast.”
The Baron’s smile lessened as he bowed to both of them and exited the room. Helen took a deep breath, grateful for the first time that her aunt saved her. She was excited about the next suitor, her heart fluttering in her chest.
“Ah!” Aunt Gertrude rose to her feet, beaming with a smile. “Your Grace. You are welcome to our humble abode.” The Duke had a grin on his face, and Helen wondered if it was real or one of those fake ones he had perfected.
“It is an honor to be here,” he replied, his tone causing Helen to shiver. “My heart could not rest. I just had to see you.”
Aunt Gertrude took her seat by the window, as usual, watching them closely. Helen wanted some privacy, to talk freely with the Duke, but society never allowed a young man and woman to be together without a chaperone. Nevertheless, she was excited.
“Beautiful acting, Your Grace,” she commented quietly when he took his seat beside her on the velvet sofa. “I almost believed that you were truly courting me.”
He laughed, a gesture that pulled on the chords of her mind. “I am courting you, or am I not?”
“We both know that all of this is a ruse. Everyone believes that you are really chasing after me — a simple girl whose reputation was ruined. Perhaps we are acting a bit too well.”
“You do not give yourself much credit,” he replied, a smile on his face. “You are a good actor yourself. The smile on your face was almost believable.”
Helen’s heart sank. Her excitement had been real, just like the growing feelings in her chest. “After spending some time with literary works, I should take up a job in playacting.”
“A rather fine endeavor,” he replied. “Although, spending time with literature does not mean you are ready to take on the finer details of acting a play.”
She smiled. “Poetry perhaps then. Shakespeare boasts of rather better poetry than the Baron. His poem was awful.”
The Duke’s eyes gleamed with an unspoken pride. “I heard the poetry from the doorway, and I can boast that I have written much better words than that.”
Helen raised her brows haughtily. “You write, Your Grace?”
“Theodore,” he muttered, gazing into her eyes. “Call me Theodore. Or Theo if you wish.”
Helen was disconcerted. His blue eyes were even darker than usual, staring into hers. She felt a sudden chill in her bones, and gooseflesh prickled the skin on her arms. Her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth, heavy as though it was filled with lead.
“Was I too fast?” he asked. “You might still address me as Your Grace if you do not feel comfortable.”
“The-Theodore,” she said finally, her tongue thawing. A long stretch of silence settled between them, and Helen could hear their breaths. Her heart quickened its pace, and she was afraid that he might hear her heartbeat.
“If we want thetonto believe that we are truly smitten by one another—”
“Smitten?” she interrupted.
“Of course. I would have said lovestruck, but in this situation, the word feels rather wrong.”
Helen sighed. It was all about the arrangement for him. It made her angry, but she realized that none of it was his fault. It was all hers for believing that their arrangement could blossom into something else. She felt like a frump, and her fan slipped from her hand.
Theodore bent to help her take it, but she was there as well. Their hands touched, and he felt an arc of desire swell through his body. He had been trying to keep it down for a long time, putting on a mask of calm and impassiveness, but all he wanted was to kiss her senseless, to pull the cherry-red gown from her shoulders and watch it slip down her curves.
He jerked away instantly as if he had been stung by a bee. Theodore was not sure how long he could keep up the facade. Ever since they met in the woods, something had thawed in him. His desires became a raging inferno, none of which his mistresses had been able to quench. And the day after that, he saw her admire the flowers in the maze of gardens.
Theodore had seen the cloth clinging to her curves just like it did now. He saw a peek at the smooth skin of her breasts. He was inclined to have her there and then, to push her against the hedges and slip his tongue into her mouth. So he left, barely controlling the primal urges surging through his body.
Does he not like me at all? He jerked away when his hands grazed mine — like he wanted nothing to do with me.
Those were the thoughts that raced through Helen’s mind. She felt like a fool, admitting her feelings for him only to have them rejected. It was not verbal, but the way he jerked away was even worse than saying it.
