Page 36 of Caught by the Forbidden Duke
“Newton.” She dug her heels in. “Newton, there is nothing in those?—”
Newton found the squirrel, but the squirrel quickly fled. Newton gave chase for approximately four seconds and then stopped, sat, and looked back at Annabelle over his shoulder as though this had all been her idea, and she had merely slowed him down.
Helena was laughing into her fan.
“I fail to see what is amusing,” Annabelle said, unwinding the leash from her wrist.
“All of it.” Helena lowered the fan. “A duke’s sister, hauled through a public park by a tabby. There is a satirical print in this.”
“There is not.” She checked her gloves.
The right one had acquired a scuff at the heel. Newton was already investigating a park bench with the diligence of a natural philosopher: nose along the seat, down the leg, at the iron foot. Whatever conclusion he reached, he reached it in silence and moved on.
They fell back into step together. The path along the water was quiet at this hour: a nursemaid with two small children and a hoop rolling away from her at some speed; a rider picking his way through the trees to the east; the Serpentine flat and blue under the clear sky.
Helena walked without speaking.
And Annabelle knew her silences the way she knew her own handwriting. The comfortable kind; the thinking kind; and the kind that had been building toward something since they left the house and intended to arrive whether it was invited or not.
She kept her eyes on Newton and gave the silence space.
“You were gone for twenty minutes last night,” Helena said.
Annabelle’s heart slammed against her ribs, and she took in a calming breath, hoping her expression gave nothing away. “I needed air.” She said.
Helena hummed, amusement threading through the sound. “You came back with very pink cheeks.”
“It was cold.” Annabelle cleared her throat once.
“Please. Your cheeks were not pink from the cold, and you know it.” She kept her tone conversational. “You didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the evening.” Now, she turned to look her square in the eye, “I arranged things for you so Mama would never notice.”
Annabelle looked at the ground ahead of Newton’s paws. “I know,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I don’t want your thanks. I want to know what happened.” Helena gestured toward the south path, where the willows at the bend were already visible. “Come sit with me.”
Newton slowed at the turn as though he had been consulted. They followed him.
The bench was tucked behind the willows, set back from the water, usually empty at this hour and empty now.
Annabelle sat. Newton climbed into her lap at once, circled once, and settled with his purring going at low volume. Helena sat beside her, folded her hands, and waited.
She told her then. She had been working out the shape of it since well before dawn, which helped. ‘
Helena let her finish before she said anything.
“So…he kissed you,” she said.
Annabelle’s cheeks heated. “Yes.”
Helena seemed to be having quite a bit of fun at her expense. “On the east balcony…alone, with the entire company on the other side of the door.”
This was getting uncomfortable. So, Annabelle glared at Helena. “That is an accurate account of the geometry, yes.”
“And before you pulled away…” Helena continued, now sounding way too amused for Annabelle’s liking.
“I didn’t pull away immediately.” Annabelle said it directly, because Helena would find the omission within thirty secondsregardless. “I am being honest with you. Before I pulled away, I…I didn’t.”
Helena looked at the water. She was working through something; whatever it was, she worked through it before she spoke, which was not always her habit but was always a sign she was being careful.
