Chapter Eighteen
Helen stared up at the sky, body sated, mind blank, watching the clouds drift above her head. A bird fluttered from the tree to the left, just as his palm slipped from her mouth.
Slowly, he worked his way up Helen’s body, pressing openmouthed kisses to her skin through the muslin of her dress. Laying half atop her, he took great care not to crush her with his weight.
Just a few more moments.
The guilt returned, but for far different reasons.
He made no attempt to move away, instead he tossed one leg possessively over Helen and held against his body. Helen could feel the length of him, hard like a piece of marble against her thigh, but he did nothing more.
And even if he did, Helen wouldn’t refuse.
This was a particular sort of madness, lying with a man, having him pleasure you, all the while knowing his secrets, at least, the most important one.
That he was not the Duke of Roxboro, but an imposter.
A skilled thief. But he was also the only man who had ever seen Helen, not the lady’s companion or poor relation.
She didn’t want to betray him. But there was Kate’s life to consider, and Helen could afford to make an enemy of the Duchess of Roxboro.
“One kiss, as I promised.” He wasn’t even bothering to hide his common speech now. Or maybe he’d forgotten to put on his upper-class accent. She supposed it no longer mattered, at any rate.
Her hands ran through his hair and along his cheek, tipping up his chin. She took in the freckle on the end of his wonderfully aristocratic nose, set between those unusual gray green eyes. Not quite the emerald green of the grass. Or the damned pendant.
“I hadn’t thought to see you again. Possibly we could arrange—” she started, determined to see this through, for Kate’s sake if no one else.
“If I have my way, you will see me every day.”
Helen gnawed a bit on her lip, which didn’t ease her remorse at lying to him.
Not outwardly, no this was far worse. Dishonestly was something she despised, having endured so much of it in her life.
Maybe she could convince him to meet with Roxboro of his own accord.
The duchess had promised they only wished to speak to him.
I need to tell him I know.
“There are matters,” Helen said into the quiet of the garden. “That should be discussed.”
He pressed his cheek to her chest, listening to her heart. A pained sigh came from him though he didn’t loosen his hold. “You’ve guessed, haven’t you? I did wonder when you would. I told you not everything is at it seems. Including me. It’s true, I’m no duke.”
Helen looked away, across the blades of grass and into the roses.
“You’re clever, little gnat. Well, then I suppose it might make things easier.”
“You took Cerise’s pendant.”
“I did. Right off Lady Cabbage’s neck. Wasn’t hard at all.”
“You won’t even deny it?”
“Why?” Helen could feel him smiling against her chest. “What would be the point? Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I won’t do it again. At least, I don’t have reason to.”
“That is hardly—have you no shame about it?” She tugged on a lock of his hair. Helen had expected denial. Distraction, perhaps. But not such a blatant admission of guilt.
“Not really. I imagine she has dozens of gems and such. Probably doesn’t even know the pendant is missing.”
“Please return it.”
“Can’t.” He sighed and snuggled deeper against Helen.
“Why not?” she demanded.
“I’ve already sold it. I can’t get it back.”
Helen’s entire being deflated. She’d been foolish to assume he’d hang on to the pendant. Or that he’d repent his crime.
“That is unfortunate,” she bit out, hating that she could not save Kate. “Because, you see, in thinking Roxboro had taken the pendant as some sort of a lark, I confronted the duke. In his theater box. Next to his duchess.”
He went still. “He knows about me.”
“Indeed he does. As does the duchess. Who, I might add, is still upset about the sapphire bracelet you took from her.”
He rolled violently away from her. “Bloody hell. Why would you do such a thing, Helen?”
A string of vile curses left him, making her cringe. “I don’t imagine he’s pleased with me struttin’ about pretending to be him. Do you want to see me swingin’ from a noose? I thought.” He glared at her. “That you and I—”
“I didn’t know there was a…you,” she interrupted. “This isn’t my fault. I thought Roxboro was merely going about stealing jewels for his own jaded amusement. I’m not the thief.”
“You promised him somethin’.” He wasn’t looking at her anymore, but up at the clouds. “Let me guess. You’re to take me to him. Lure me—” he jerked his gaze back to her. “Is Roxboro here now? Inside? Does Galway have his footmen ready to apprehend me? Used your quim to tempt me.”
“I didn’t even know you were in the garden, you idiot,” she hurled back at him. “And I would never tell Galway anything. The duke,” she said gently, “wants to speak to you. There was no mention of punishment or anything else. He’s curious why you look so much alike. Aren’t you?”
“Are you a bloody cabbage?”
“I’m not.” Helen swatted him. Twice, just so he knew how angry she was. “You’re the one going about pretending to be a duke to steal jewels.” Swat. “And seducing young ladies. Had he wanted you arrested, he would do so.”
“You’re the only one I’ve seduced. Might have kissed one or two, but that’s all. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Nor did I use you.” The accusation was clear.
“I don’t care for what you imply.”
The streaks of silver in his eyes flashed at Helen like lightning heralding a storm. His hands had curled into fists. He might flee at any moment, and she still didn’t have a name. “Who are you?”
“No one of importance,” came his clipped reply. “No one you’d ever want to know.” His beautiful features shuttered, closing Helen off. “I needed to make some coin. To escape. And because I looked like the duke, I did.”
“Please,” Helen implored.
“Fletcher.”
Fletcher.
“Well, Fletcher. You realize it isn’t just a resemblance you have to the duke. It isn’t that you look like him only when the light hits you in a certain way. Or from a distance. But alike in every way. Don’t you find that odd?”
Fletcher shrugged. “Not really. Lots of blokes look alike.”
“No.” Helen shook her head. “You and Roxboro are identical. And I don’t believe in doppelgangers.”
“Dopple…what?”
“It’s not important. But you and Roxboro must be…related, though he has no brothers or male cousins that the duchess is aware of.”
Fletcher paled so dramatically, Helen was in fear he might faint. Looking over the gardens, he said under his breath, “There’s no Hannah.” He came gracefully to his feet. “Damn her. That’s her secret. I have to go. Else the duke will have me imprisoned.”
“No, he won’t. Not when you look exactly like him. Tell me how to find you. Please, Fletcher.”
Fletcher made an ugly laugh. “That isn’t going to happen. You can tell His Grace I won’t be in London, or possibly alive much longer to be much of a bother to him. Oh, and be sure to tell the duke that everyone in society thinks him a total disgrace. You should hear the things they say.”
“I believe the duke is already aware. Fletcher listen to me, Cerise’s maid will be accused and possibly imprisoned for stealing the pendant. Can you—”
“Do what? Confess to Galway? Are you mad, Helen? First you want me to go meet the man whose name I’ve been usin’ and now I’m to admit to a crime? You hate me so much you want to see me swing?” he snapped. “Have your friend the duke make things right with that wrinkled prune.”
“Prune?”
“Galway. Always looks as if he needs to relieve himself.”
“Fletcher.” She might never see him again which had pain sinking like claws into Helen’s chest, threatening to tear her open. “Don’t disappear. Please. I won’t tell Roxboro.”
“And I’m to trust you now?” He whistled. “No thank you.” His tall form disappeared into the shadows at the edge of Galway’s garden, gone before Helen could stop him.
Helen held back tears, clutching at the grass. “Fletcher.”
He would never come to her again; Helen could feel it in her soul. Unbearable sadness filled her and she sat for the longest time, hoping Fletcher might return or that the sun would warm the sudden cold in her limbs. Finally, Helen admitted defeat.
Adjusting her clothing and brushing away stray bits of grass, she stood just as Parker appeared on the path leading to the fountain, stiff-lipped and unfriendly.
“Miss Cosgrove. Lord Galway wishes to speak to you in his study.”