come here to end things between himself and Helena.
He’d come to begin them.
“I love you,” he said hoarsely. “I love you, and I’m sorry–”
“No.” The hand splayed across his sternum stopped him short, as did the raw pain etched across Helena’s beautiful face as she drew back and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “You don’t love me, Stephen. And you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who is sorry. I…” Tears filled her eyes and choked her voice. “I cannot do this.”
“What do you mean you…Helena!” He shouted her name when she wrenched free of his grasp and began to run as fast as her slender legs could carry her. For a few precious seconds he could only stare at her retreating back in stunned silence, but then with a vicious curse he gave chase. He’d let Helena go once. He’d be damned if he made the same mistake a second time.
He caught up to her easily, but when he tried to put a hand on her shoulder, she slapped it away.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Each word was like a bullet to his heart.
A heart that had already withstood so much.
How much more could he possibly be expected to endure?
“Don’t do this, Helena. Please.” Later, as Stephen stared into the bottom of a glass of bourbon, it would strike him as bitterly ironic that he’d wanted to see Helena beg. And now he was the one who was pleading. “Talk to me. Just talk.” He gazed at her beseechingly. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it all out. I promise.”
“There’s nothing to figure out.” She pressed her fingertips to her bottom lip when it trembled. “There’s nothing more to say. You – you need to forget this kiss ever happened. You need to forget me.”
This time when she ran away from him, he didn’t go after her.
Chapter Twelve
Two Weeks Later
“Hello!” Calliope’s voice rang excitedly through the manor as she stepped into the foyer and spun in a circle, half-expecting her dear friends to come rushing out to greet her any second. But when one second turned to ten and ten turned into a minute, she looked up at her husband and frowned. “I don’t know where they are.”
“I’m sure they’re just outside,” Leo assured her.
“In the pouring rain?” Calliope asked dubiously.
The skies had opened up the morning they’d left Scotland and it had been raining buckets ever since. Their return home had been delayed by two days due to the main road being washed out, but they’d found plenty to do in a cozy little inn.
Her cheeks warming from the memories of their honeymoon, Calliope pulled off her wet cloak and hat as she crossed the room and peered into the parlor. It was empty. So was the second parlor, and the drawing room, and the library.
“Maybe they returned to London,” Leo suggested as he came up behind her, his hands resting familiarly on her waist. Leaning down, he nuzzled her neck, then pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “Which means we have the entire house to ourselves.”
“We need to find them.”
On a sigh, her husband rocked back on his heels. “Do we, though?”
“Yes,” she said succinctly. “What if something happened to Percy?”
“No one would have gotten past Helena, least of all Glastonbury. Weasely bastard,” Leo muttered under his breath. When he’d learned of what had happened to Percy, he’d been outraged and would have challenged the duke to pistols at dawn if Calliope hadn’t stopped him. “I’m sure your friends are safe. They’ve probably gone on a little excursion, or maybe they’re taking a nap, for all we know.”
“Before afternoon tea? Besides, they’re not just my friends,” Calliope said as she marched towards the music room. “We’re like sisters. We’ve even formed a society.”
“Is that so?” Leo asked, lifting a brow. “What is it called?”
“Well, I can’t tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret. It even has secret in the name.” Calliope saw a harp and a pianoforte, but no Percy or Helena. How odd. She’d written to tell them when she and Leo would be returning, and given they were two days later than expected, she’d thought her friends would be waiting to meet them at the door.
“I am going to check upstairs,” she decided.
“There’s lots of bedrooms upstairs,” Leo said with mock gravitas. “I should definitely join you.”
Calliope squealed when he scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a bag of thistledown. “Put me down,” she insisted even as