“Whyever not?” He closed the distance between them, coming to stand in front of her. “Do you love him? No, in fact… do you care for him at all?”
“I…” She trailed off, saying nothing. Her eyes darted from his own down to his lips. It gave him hope where he’d had none before.
“No,” he said boldly. “You do not care for him, or you would tell me so now.”
“I…” she tried again, but words still failed her. When her gaze repeated that quick look down to his lips, he didn’t hold himself back. One of his hands reached for her cheek, and he tilted her face up toward him as he pressed his lips to hers.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Helena returned the kiss without thinking. All she could think of was the Duke of Bridstone’s lips pressed to her own, the thrill that came with it, the warmth and the excitement. His hand moved from her cheek down to her waist, pulling her so that she was flush against him. Her own hands reached for his jacket, curling around the edges as she clung onto him and pressed herself into him. It was a chaste kiss, one of just lips pressing together, but it elongated until it became something deeper, something far more intimate.
He's kissing me? The Duke of Bridstone kissed me!
Her mind was a jumble of exclamations of surprise. All she knew was that she didn’t want this feeling to end.
“Oh, yes, my dear, quite the gossip indeed.” A voice reached her ears.
Helena jerked back at the same time the Duke of Bridstone did. They stared at one another with wide eyes as the voice was joined by others, and they all grew nearer.
It would be another scandal. If more people were walking in this garden, the two of them would soon be discovered, and they would be seen repeating the same scandal that had ruined their own siblings’ names.
“Yes, I think it’s this way to the fountain,” one of those voices declared, growing nearer and nearer.
Helena could say nothing to the Duke. She pushed away from him and reached for the mask, snatching it up off the fountain. He pointed through a gap in a nearby bush, urging her wordlessly to go that way. She hurried off in that direction, glancing back to see he managed to sneak out a different way entirely.
Grabbing hold of the skirt of her gown, she sprinted across the garden, running as fast as she could toward the house. Cowering behind some oak trees, she bent forward, trying to catch her breath though she no longer knew if she’d become so breathless in the kiss or from running.
“How did this happen” she muttered to herself repeatedly. “What have I done?”
She was not certain what any of it meant. She had been simultaneously despairing of the Duke and loving his company before all that excitement had bubbled over into a stolen kiss.
“Good God, I have become my sister.” She covered her face with her hands and then remembered the mask that swung from her wrist with the ribbon and hurried to reattach it. At least, when she returned into the ballroom, the mask would hide the strong blush which had heated her cheeks and made them feel as if they were on fire.
At least, we were not caught.
Once her mask was in place, she shakily returned to the ballroom. Her fears about being caught dissipated as she stepped inside, allowing her thoughts to return to other things instead.
Repeatedly she questioned why she had kissed the Duke back with such vigor, and why he had kissed her in the first place. She sought out a glass of champagne, but when she pressed the rim of the glass to her lips, it reminded her of the Duke’s touch to her own lips. Suddenly disinterested in the champagne, she put it down again.
“My Lady?” a familiar voice called to her. Helena looked around to see Lord Mistwood approaching her again. “May I have the honor of the next dance?” He extended his hand to her.
Helena nearly raised her palm to take it but couldn’t. Lord Mistwood plainly didn’t know who she was. He had never asked her to dance twice before. Though his manners had always been polite, even admirable, it was a level of attention he would not have shown her had she not been wearing this fine gown and mask.
The Duke of Bridstone knew it was me though, did he not?
He’d asked her to dance, tricked her, just so that she would dance with him. Slowly, Helena put her hands behind her back, refusing to give Lord Mistwood her hand.
“My apologies, My Lord, I’m quite tired out this evening and do not think I can dance again. I’m afraid you’ll have to find another partner.”
“A great shame.” He bowed to her and left.
She sighed with relief the moment he was gone and looked at the door that led to the gardens. She was not the only one to have returned to the ballroom. The Duke of Bridstone stood there, wearing his mask, and his eyes were on her. The fixedness of that stare suggested he had seen the interaction that just took place.
He saw me turn Lord Mistwood down.
Unsure whether she was thrilled or frustrated that he had seen it, she turned and shifted her gaze away from him, hurrying across the room instead. It was easy to find Julia. She was just stepping off the dance floor on Lord Robert’s arm. The two laughed together so much, charmed by one another, that others around them were taking notice.
“You two are drawing attention to yourselves,” Helena said as she cut in front of them. “People will start to wonder who you are and endeavor to discover it. I think it best we put an end to the night.”
