“I have seen enough here,” Olive said, linking arms with her and directing her toward the grand staircase. “Perhaps more exciting things are afoot in the theatre.”

Wickie’s cousin enjoyed her gossip, but she wasn’t mean-spirited about it. Her shrewd observations made navigating Society easier for Helena. Helena had learned when to hold her tongue and when to turn a blind eye, which had won her several friends among the ladies of Mayfair.

The duchess fell into step on Olive’s other side. As they neared the rotunda, Olive froze. “Oh dear.”

Helena’s head snapped up to locate the cause of Olive’s distress and her breath caught. Lord Thorne was standing in the middle of the stairs beneath a massive chandelier, and he was watching her with his captivating dark brown eyes. They had been like mirrors reflecting her image earlier that day, leaving her with the odd sense he saw into her soul and knew her secrets.

Candlelight shimmered off his black hair and cast a shadow over one side of his face, defining his high cheekbones. She was relieved the footpads hadn’t caused any lasting damage. Perhaps it was silly to think on such things, but he had a very handsome face.

“It is good to see the baron out again,” the duchess said as she continued toward the staircase.

Olive sighed and followed, dragging Helena with her.

“Lord Thorne, how lovely to see you again.” The Duchess of Foxhaven offered her hand to the baron as they met at the foot of the stairs.

“Thank you, Your Grace, but the pleasure is all mine.” He bowed gallantly over her hand and smiled. Helena melted inside even though it wasn’t aimed at her. “I hope your family is well.”

“Yes, my lord. We are all fortunate to be ingood health.”

“Excellent. I understand Lady Gabrielle and her new husband have returned to Town. Please extend my best to them.”

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A slight tightening at the corners of his eyes made Helena question his sincerity. Yet, she couldn’t imagine she would be half as gracious as the baron if her betrothed abandoned her days before their wedding.

“Of course I will, my lord.” The duchess patted his hand and smiled sympathetically. “How are you managing these days?”

He ignored the intent of her question and reported on his mother’s and sister’s health instead. While he and the duchess engaged in pleasantries, Helena studied him without reservation. His black jacket was of the best quality and cut to hug his broad shoulders and trim torso. Everything about his appearance was intentional, from the starch of his collar to his carefree hair made to appear as if he’d crawled from bed looking like perfection, to his high-polished footwear. A lot of effort went into his appearance, suggesting he cared a great deal how others viewed him.

She suppressed a sigh. She’d thought of Lord Thorne often these past seven days.

Too often.

She found herself looking for him while shopping with Olive. When she and Fergus made forays into the rookery, she feared running into him again. And in bed at night she fantasized about seeing him at a ball where they would dance the waltz. Where she hadn’t expected to see him was at the church today. And now he was here, looking magnificent and causing her to yearn.

The man was a menace.

His gaze landed on her; amusement twinkled in the dark depths of his eyes.

She looked away quickly, her face growing hot from being caught taking his measure.

The duchess smiled reassuringly at her. “Lord Thorne, may I present Lady Prestwick? The viscountess is a new arrival from Aberdeen.”

He took Helena’s hand and bowed over it. His full lips grazed her gloved knuckles and sent her heart into a clumsy run, tripping and sputtering. “Lady Prestwick, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Properly, that is.” He lingered over her hand with a small smirk as if challenging her.

Helena didn’t know what to say. If she explained their encounter earlier at St. Saviour’s, Olive would have more questions she didn’t want to answer. And if she said nothing, she feared her husband’s cousin and the duchess would assume something untoward had occurred between her and the baron.

Olive forcefully cleared her throat, and Lord Thorne released Helena’s hand.




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