the knob and threw it open herself. She was down the steps in an instant, gulping in the cold night air.
She turned left without thinking and walked to the end of the block. Carriages idled in the road, their grooms and coachmen smoking or throwing dice. Helena kept moving, turning first one corner, and then the next. When, finally, she outwalked the last of the carriages, she stopped. She was panting, energized by exertion and misery and fear.
“No. Not here,” clipped a voice behind her, Declan’s voice, and then suddenly he was there. He took her by the hand and led her deeper into the dark. They went another half block, and the sidewalk opened up into a small square, bordered with an iron fence. Declan swung the gate and led her inside. She followed along, exhausted now, dazed, her steps dragging.
“Not yet,” he said, leading her deeper into the shadows, away from the last streetlamp.
Finally, when the sounds of horses and carriages and barking dogs faded, and the dark chill of the park closed in around them, he stopped. He took a deep breath, checking around them. He turned to her.
“Helena,” he whispered.
She fell into his arms and he swept her to him.
“Why?” she cried, the tears falling freely. “Why is this my lot? What sort of family would subject their daughter to this?”
He squeezed her, tucking her against his strong chest, his chin on her head. He dug his hands into her hair and wrapped a secure arm around her waist. She burrowed in, leeching his strength and his warmth.
“They do not know you,” he said.
“They know that I am uncooperative and embarrassing and annoying. It’s almost as if my stubbornness ignited their stubbornness, and we were locked in a kind of spiral. They could not allow me to prevail.”
“I cannot believe their stamina, honestly,” he said. “Why not simply shackle your sister Joan with the duke?”
“Because my grandmother left the forest and cottage and river to me. If Girdleston wants the river for his mining boats, Lusk must marry me to get it. Joan will have only a dowry. What would Girdleston want with a pot of money when he could make an endless fortune instead?”
“I’m so sorry,” Declan sighed, kissing her hair.
“The sad thing is, Joan would likely do it. She would marry Lusk and find a way to survive as his wife. Not Camille, thank God, but Joan covets the title of duchess as much as my parents. To make matters worse, we are indistinguishable to Lusk. He doesn’t care which unsuitable girl he marries for money. And oh!” she exclaimed, pulling away. “He knows!”
Declan peeled off his mask. “Knows what?”
“Declan, in the moment you came for me, Lusk told me to run from the room. He whispered in my ear, ‘Get out of here.’ ”
Declan’s face went white.
She held up her hands. “He told me to go to you, in particular.”
Declan took a step back. “No.”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other in the dark. She continued, “He’s always been an enigma to me, but I promise you, he knew I was miserable, and he sent me away. He sent me to you.”
“Was he angry?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t happy. But . . . but I almost felt he was more irritated with his friends. He was barely sober, as always. His breath reeked.”
Declan began to pace. “Is it possible that we’ve evaded Girdleston with our . . . our connection, but not the bloody, sodden duke?”
“Connection?” Helena repeated. “Is that what we have? Good God, Declan, I told you tonight that I love you.”
“Listen to me,” Declan said, spinning to take her by the arms. “If Girdleston discovers that I am working against him and not for him, then we are . . . we are finished. I will be sacked—”
“I know—the money. You’ll not get the money.”
“It’s more than that,” he growled.
“How? How is it more than you being sacked and not getting the money? I’ve told you I’ll look after your fami—”
He shook his head with such defeat and agony she stopped.
“Declan, what?” She watched his profile slump. He breathed in, slowly closing his eyes.
“There are things you do not know,” he said. “But your focus at the moment needs to be only saving yourself, not me. I will not make your lot worse.”
“This is worse,” she said simply, speaking more to herself than him. “I thought tonight could not be more terrible than it already was, but you . . . are