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Now, she was far from home, covered with scrapes, bruises, and mud, and laying on a stranger’s sofa — one who was of the highest standing after the Prince.
“You seem familiar, Mister. Or should I say, Your Grace?”
He smiled, raking his fingers through his brown hair, and took his seat on the chair opposite her. Then, he did not bother to answer her question.
“I would have sent for my brother, Sebastian. He is a physician, but he is far away in London. So I must take care of you myself.”
Helen smiled. “But you do not seem enthused. Am I such a burden?”
The servant scurried back, followed by a woman in a green satin gown. Helen deduced that she was the housekeeper. She carried the linens and other materials and set them on the sofa.
“Where is Perceval?” he asked, dipping his hand into the water.
“He is not back, Your Grace. I shall send the stable boys to search for him,” the housekeeper replied and curtsied.
The Duke sent them away and set to work. He cleaned her feet with the cloth and warm water. The gentle strokes soothed Helen, and she tilted her head back.
“Here,” he said, handing her a glass of milk. “This will help ease the pain.” She shivered as he cleaned further up her legs. When his hands grazed the smooth skin of her thighs, she shivered some more. The milk did help ease the pain, but Helen was feeling jittery.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She shook her head quickly, her mind settling from the milk. “No. I am fine.”
His fingers started trailing up her thighs once more, caressing her skin. Helen felt delicious sensations dance through her, rippling from his hands and into her body. She relaxed visibly, forgetting all about the pain in her ankles. She felt his hands hitch up her gown in the slightest, and her senses went reeling. His touches burned intensely, filling her up. Helen relished the heat, the subtle touches, the—
“Theodore?” A voice rang through the room.
Helen sat up immediately, wincing as pain rippled through her again. She felt cold all over, instantly missing the heat that his body provided. A woman in grey satin strode into the study with a walking cane of polished dark wood. Her posture was perfect, straight as a poker. Helen shrank back as the woman edged closer, watching the gray streaks in her pulled-back hair. But there was something oddly familiar about her.
It was the Dowager Duchess of Wallington.
“Grandmother,” the man, now Theodore, complained. “You used to knock before entering. This is an intrusion of privacy.”
“I was concerned when Perceval did not find you or your horse when he returned. Then, Mrs. Penbright told me about a certain woman in your study…”
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Helen said, her heart racing.
The Duchess’ gaze was scrutinizing, but Helen endured it. She was used to such looks from her aunt. “Are you not that Jarvis girl?”
Helen froze.
ChapterThirteen
Helen was having trouble understanding the situation. The realization hit her in the gut, sending her reeling back into the chair. She looked at the other two people in the room, feeling utterly insignificant.
She was before the Duke and Dowager Duchess of Wallington, but she did not recognize the man. They had shared a kiss before in the garden, one that Helen made sure not to forget.
Does he not remember me?Helen asked herself, heart sinking.
Maybe he did not recognize her for the same reasons she did not. They were under the cover of darkness, barely able to see one another. But Helen could never forget the desire in those hooded blue eyes.
“Y-Yes, Your Grace,” she stuttered. “My name is Helen Jarvis, Your Grace. Daughter of the Earl of Erbury.”
The Dowager Duchess simply regarded her with impassiveness. “And why are you here? Alone with His Grace?”
“Grandmother,” Theodore said, dismissing the query. “I met her in the woods on my hunting trip. She seemed in dire need of help.”
“In the woods? How in the heavens did she arrive on the estate grounds?” the Dowager asked, her voice rising a little. All the while, Helen kept staring at the ground and her wet silk slippers. She was shivering slightly, praying that the ground would swallow her.
