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“Quite well,” Ophelia said slowly. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’ve just remembered there is something I must discuss with the housekeeper.”

She didn’t wait for her companion’s protestations to even begin before she took her leave. Although she couldn’t yet retire for the night, given her obligations as hostess, she could retreat to a more secluded space. And what she needed more than anything at the moment was a quiet chance to think.

The need burning inside her was potent and altogether forbidden. Dangerous to her—if anyone were to ever discover the truth and word reached Lord Timothy, disaster would ensue. But that didn’t stop her from longing for Prestwick.

She found a salon that was blessedly empty and slipped inside, closing the door at her back and leaning against it. Her mind was a whirlwind, her heart torn. Part of her dearly longed to charge into the gardens and stake her claim upon Prestwick. But the other part of her, the sensible part of her, knew how foolish such a move would be.

Not only would it invite the scrutiny of the houseguests, but there was every possibility the duke wanted Mrs. Gilpin. She was worldly and beautiful, and she had stood almost entirely in the nude before the assemblage without a hint of shame. She wasn’t a widow with two children who was seven years Prestwick’s senior.

But still, there remained a stubborn need inside Ophelia, along with the reminder that, all too soon, she would leave here and return to London and life as she knew it. To a house full of children and pups and money woes.

However, in this moment, she might be anyone she chose to be. She was anonymous. There was little chance Lord Timothy would ever learn what happened within these walls. Members were sworn to secrecy, upon punishment of expulsion from the club. Certainly, she felt like a different woman entirely, far from the staid, responsible mother who put her children first in all things.

Who never listened to her own desires. Who had ruthlessly tamped down all sense of herself over many years of an unfulfilling marriage.

Perhaps it was time to put that woman first, just this once.

To selfishly seize what she wanted—the Duke of Prestwick.

First, she would need some courage. She could do this. She would do this.

All she needed was a few glasses of wine to grant her the audacity.

“The moon is bright this evening,” Helene commented as they strolled down a gravel path, the cacophony of the drawing room growing quieter with each step they took in the opposite direction.

Apollo ventured a glance at her. The silvery light shone lovingly on her face and the tops of her breasts, which were on ample display. She was the picture of feminine elegance, and he didn’t doubt that most of the men in the drawing room at his back would have given their eyeteeth to be in his place.

But he didn’t even feel the slightest stirring of either his interest or his cock. When he looked upon Helene, all he felt was relief he hadn’t bound himself to her inextricably all those years ago.

“It looks to be a waxing gibbous,” he commented lightly.

Silence fell between them for a few moments, punctuated only by the crunch of soles on gravel, before she spoke again. “Do you remember the night you danced with me in that garden at St Johns Wood and told me the names of the constellations?”

He searched his mind. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Oh.” Her tone was crestfallen.

He wasn’t entirely hard-hearted, but what had once been soft and vulnerable was now fashioned of leather, in part thanks to the woman at his side. Her emotions failed to move him.

“Madam, I sincerely doubt you wished to speak to me of the moon,” he said coolly, wanting this conversation to be done.

Forever done.

He had more important matters to attend, and one of them was a flame-haired beauty with her own constellation of freckles decorating her beautiful body.

“No,” Helene agreed quietly. “I wanted to speak to you about us.”

He stiffened at once. “There is no us to speak of.”

“There was once,” she murmured. “I have thought of you often over the years. So often that when I first saw you in the audience this evening, I barely believed my eyes.”

Apollo stopped, not wanting to venture farther into the darkened gardens with her. “Forgive me if I doubt your earnestness,” he said coldly. “Perhaps you forget the reason our ill-fated arrangement came to a swift conclusion. But I can assure you that I have not.”

She reached for him, cupping his cheek with a hand. “It was a mistake.”

He shrugged away from her touch. “No doubt it seems so to you now. I would have made you my duchess, and instead, you are baring your breasts for strangers at house parties.”

Helene jerked as if he had struck her. “I am no different from any of the ladies in attendance at this house party.”