again. But I won’t have you hang this over my head like a guillotine.”
His blue eyes flashed an inch from her own. There was fury in them, but there was also something else. Something achingly familiar. Something that reminded her of moonlight and wisteria.
“I want to know the truth, Helena,” he said quietly. “The real truth. The why, and the how. I want to know how you could do it. Then I can finally be done with it. I can be done with us.”
“I’ve told you; I had no choice.” She winced when his grip tightened. On a vicious curse, he abruptly released her and whipped around, his fingers diving into his hair.
“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “A waste of my bloody time. I never should have come here.”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” Relief coursed through Helena’s veins as she pulled her wrap closer around her nightdress, cocooning herself in the softly woven fabric. Surely if Stephen had known about the murder – or at least suspected – he would have said something then and there. That he hadn’t reassured her of his ignorance, and her own safety.
But it did nothing to fix the hole in her heart.
A heart that still beat for Stephen, even now.
Against her will.
Against her wishes.
Against every fiber in her body.
Stephen wasn’t the only man she’d ever kissed in the moonlight, but he was the only one who had ever mattered. The only one who had made her feel. The only one who had stirred something inside of her.
It was a warmth in her belly. It was a tingling in her breasts. It was an awareness of every breath he took, and every one she shared in response.
If that wasn’t love…what was?
“He was going to marry my sister,” she called out when Stephen started to walk away.
He stopped short, his shoulders stiffening beneath the sharp line of his coat. “What did you say?” he asked harshly.
When Helena was a child, her governess gave her two round magnets to play with. She’d loved to place them on opposite ends of her room, then give one a nudge so it rolled towards the other. That was how she felt as she started to walk towards Stephen, the train of her wrapper trailing behind her. Like a magnet being pulled by an invisible force.
She stopped behind him, her arm hovering in midair as she contemplated touching him. Of stroking the tension from his muscles. Of giving him the comfort that she desperately wanted for herself. And she almost did it. Then with a tiny, annoyed shake of her head, she balled her hand into a fist and tucked it against her ribcage. Maybe her traitorous heart still yearned for the man standing in front of her, but her head knew better.
And it was her head she needed to listen to.
Stephen deserved the truth. Or at least as much of the truth as she could give him. Then he could be free of her, and she could be free of him, and they could go on with their lives.
Separately.
“Your father. He proposed to my little sister, Dahlia. No.” Her mouth twisted in a sneer just as Stephen turned around. “Proposed is too generous a word. He demanded she marry him. And my parents, seeing an opportunity to expand their wealth and acclaim, were only too happy to agree to the marriage. She was only fifteen. I made the decision to take her place.”
“Why…why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I tried!” Her nails dug crescent moons into her palms as she struggled to maintain her composure. When her voice threatened to tremble and more tears pricked her eyes like tiny needles, she took a calming breath, then another. “I tried,” she repeated. “That morning you came home, I tried to tell you. But you were so angry you wouldn’t listen. And then I became so angry that I no longer wanted to explain.”
His jaw clenched. “Of course I was angry. I returned to discover you were marrying my father. But if I’d known why you were doing it…bloody hell, Helena! You should have told me.”
She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. “Would it have changed anything?”
He stared incredulously at her. “It would have changed everything.”
“I…” The lump had returned to her throat, three times larger than before. She could barely speak because of it, and when she did her words were jumbled. “You’re right. I – I should have told you. But – but that night. We’d