doorway. Lady Rodericka hovered just outside. She saw her error now, and she was slowly backing away.
Helena gritted her teeth and turned back.
“Forgive my intrusion,” she said, forcing volume. Her voice came out nervous and airy, and she cleared her throat.
“I was led to this room by mistake. Please continue your game.” She inclined her head to Lusk, a show of respect, and farewell, and (hopefully) Go to hell. “Your Grace,” she said as she took a step backward.
“Oh, but you cannot go now,” said the man beside the table with the mirror device. “You’ll miss your betrothed’s spin. Really, you must stay. It’s one of our favorite little games.”
“I feel certain the duke can carry on without me,” she said.
“Nonsense. Who would like the future duchess to stay?” the man called.
Hoots and whistles and Here-heres confirmed him.
“You’re not afraid of us, are you, dear? As the bosom friends of His Grace, we’ll want to get off on the right foot, considering the Wedding of the Century is set to finally, really, happen. That is—if no one among the key players runs away.” He stifled a laugh. More titters from around the room. “Don’t tell me you’re looking to run even from our little game?”
“Leave it, Bearington,” drawled Lusk, dropping his head onto the woman’s arm at the back of his chair. He stared at the ceiling.
“Don’t be a coward, Lusk, it’s all in good fun,” teased the man. “Who can say, maybe the future Duchess of Lusk is wicked enough to join our merry band, after all.”
“She’s not,” Lusk said to the ceiling.
“Come and have your turn,” the man said to Lusk, giving the mirrored device on the tabletop a spin.
Helena stared at the unfamiliar contraption revolving in the center of the table. It was shaped like a large cylinder lantern with five flat sides. Each side was a rectangular mirror that reflected the room at different angles. When the man jabbed it with his finger, the device spun crookedly on a metal base, blurring the reflections and splashing the room with spinning light.
Helena glanced around, trying to ascertain what her role in this game could possibly be. Would she operate the device? Interpret it? Or perhaps they meant for her to touch it and they would examine her reflection and . . . and . . . call out things about her?
Contempt roiled in her stomach. She detested not knowing what to expect or what to say. The humiliation would be greater now if she fled. They were waiting for her to run. She had no choice but to simply allow the moment to pass.
“What do I do?” Helena heard herself ask. On cue, the room dissolved into laughter.
“Oh, you do nothing, dear,” said the man. “It’s not your turn.” He turned to Lusk. “Lusk will not ninny out, I hope, just because his betrothed has come to look in on her duke.”
“It’s a stupid game,” Lusk said, repositioning his hat.
“You say that about every game. Go on. Give it a spin.”
Helena was relieved. Nothing would be required of her. Lusk would have his turn, and she would go. She glanced around the room. Lady Rodericka had abandoned her. There were only—
She saw Declan.
He stood just outside the door, hands open like claws at his sides, jaw clenched, eyes like daggers. Their gazes met, and the look of desperation and anger on his face made her eyes swim with tears. He made a barely perceptible half nod of You can manage, and Keep calm, and I’m here. She blinked in understanding, feeling a surge of longing so deep she almost reached out to steady herself on a chair.
But she mustn’t stare; she mustn’t do anything but appear impervious to it all. She was impervious to it all.
She breathed carefully and turned from Declan’s strong, familiar face to the pale, weak-jawed profile of Lusk.
In the chair beside the table, Lusk said in a loud, showy voice, “You’re an arse, Bearington,” and leaned forward to give the mirrored device a spin.
“You must say the words!” called the woman dressed as a tropical bird.
“Mirror, mirror on the table,” droned Lusk, “show me my mate if you are able.” He sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “It was always a stupid game,” he muttered, but the room burst into applause, stepping in to watch the spinning mirrors streak the room with a whirl of refracted candlelight and the blurred reflections of ecstatic faces.
When the spinning mirrors began