she’d come up with a plan that she hoped would appease everyone. “I don’t want to get married.”
Every muscle in Leo’s body tense. “Calliope…”
“I don’t want to get married today,” she clarified. “Because I do want a courtship. I want flowers and poems and long walks through the park.”
His brows drew together. “You can have all that after we’re married.”
“Yes, but I want it now as well.” Her lips curved. “I was a wallflower for a very long time. I was almost a spinster. I’d like to enjoy being a fiancée before I become a wife.”
“But what about the terms of the will?”
“If there’s still time to get to Mr. Highwater-Cleary’s office, I’d like to see if I could donate all of it to St. James Orphanage.”
“We’ll make time.”
What a wonderful man, her husband-to-be. Standing on her toes, she impulsively pressed her lips to his cheek. Leo’s gaze softened, then flickered with heat. He nudged her closer.
“Do you know what else men and women do when they’re courting?” he said huskily.
“What?” she asked, although she had a feeling she already knew the answer.
“Kissing,” He lowered his mouth to hers. “They do lots and lots of kissing.”
Epilogue
Calliope and Leo were married the following spring in a small village church just outside Winchester Manor. It was a private affair, with only dear friends in attendance. Helena and Percy, who had become more like a sister than a friend over the past few months, sat on the bride’s side of the aisle. Mr. Corish, who grinned like a fool from the start of the ceremony to the very end, occupied the place of honor on the groom’s side.
Everyone clapped when the newlyweds kissed, then laughed when they ran down the aisle and jumped into their carriage. Calliope waved out the window and then they were gone, heading towards a remote cottage in the highlands where they would spend their honeymoon.
The guests returned to the manor. Helena and Percy retired to the parlor to enjoy a game of whist. Helena had been shocked to discover the duchess didn’t know how to play, but then there had been a lot of shocking things she’d discovered since bringing Percy into her home, the least of which was her inadequate knowledge of card games.
Percy’s outward bruises had faded quickly, but there were deeper ones still buried inside. They showed themselves whenever a man entered the room, no matter who he was. Or when a door slammed. Or when a glass dropped. Or when an unknown coach pulled up to the house. Helena desperately wanted to help Percy, and in many ways she had. But there were some things she couldn’t do, some hurts she couldn’t heal, and so she’d resolved herself to being Percy’s friend and protector.
No matter what evil darkened the door.
A maid stepped into the room. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Helena watched with a heavy heart as all the blood immediately drained from Percy’s face. “It’s all right,” she assured the terrified duchess as she reached across the gaming table to squeeze her hand. “No harm is going to come to you here. You’ve my word.” She looked at the maid. “Would you mind being more specific, please?”
“Of course, my lady.” The servant blushed. “I – I should have said there is someone here to see the Countess of Cambridge. My sincerest apologies for any confusion.”
“See?” Helena told Percy before she stood up. “They’re here to see me, not you. I’ll be back in just a minute.” She wagged her finger at her friend whose color was slowly returning. “No peeking at my cards.”
Squaring her shoulders, she walked out of the parlor and into the foyer. In the middle of it stood a man with his back to her. He was sharply dressed, with broad shoulders, a glossy man of chestnut hair, and a very well-shaped arse.
She’d always liked a man with a well-shaped arse.
“Can I help you?” she said, smiling politely.
“I think you can,” he replied as he slowly turned around.
Helena’s smile faded and her gaze narrowed. He looked so familiar, although she was almost positive they’d never met. Then recognition dawned, swift and horrible.
“Get the hell out of here,” she hissed, advancing on him with clenched fists as her entire body started to vibrate with barely suppressed rage. He was lucky she was not in possession of a pistol, because she wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot him in the heart.
Not that it would have done much good, seeing as he didn’t have