Page 43 of The Haunted Duke

Each pat felt like the lash of a whip, dragging him back to his days of torture one small clap at a time. Evander closed his eyes, willed himself to breathe.

He thought of Helena’s hands on his, gentle and unafraid, tracing over scars that had made grown men look away. He thought of the way she had looked at him after, as though nothing about him needed forgiving at all. It was enough to bring him back to the present, but in doing so, it only replaced one form of torture with another. Instead of the phantom pain in his body, he felt the very real kind in his heart.

“Stand on the other side of Miss Robinson, would you, old boy?” Jeremy whispered to him. “That way I can make a toast.”

Evander bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check and moved to Helena’s other side. By accident, he brushed against her skirts, and that brief touch made his body ache with lustful longing.

“…And of course I want to thank my lovely bride, Miss Helena Robinson, for her deep well of patience…” Jeremy’s speech went on. “To my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Ravenshaw… To my new family, Mrs. Robinson and young Master Alexander…”

They were going to be Jeremy’s new family. Not his. Never his. His chance of happiness, of peace, was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do but let it go.

Evander forced himself to keep his eyes open and his face impassive as Jeremy’s speech rambled on—but as his eyes caught Lord Ingram, he quickly realized that looking to the crowd was a mistake. The smug look on the man’s face was aimed directly at Helena, his beady eyes tracing over the curves of her breasts and the lines of her neck—a neck now covered by a large diamond and sapphire jeweled necklace, likely chosen to hide the mostly-faded bruises he saw the night before.

Evander’s gaze narrowed in on Lord Ingram, then to Helena, who was now as white as a sheet. Suddenly, he realized who had put those bruises on her neck. Who had been so bold as to hurt such a delicate creature as Helena, and something in him snapped.

He took a step forward, with Jeremy’s speech and the crowd fading into darkness except for Lord Ingram, until Helena’s fingers wrapped around his, pulling him out of his murderous resolve and back into the moment. He paused mid step, then casually moved back into line, hiding his and Helena’s clasped hands behind him.

Fresh air flooded into his lungs as Helena’s fingertips glided along the leather of his gloves, wrapping around his fingers, and beneath the long sleeves of his jacket and shirt. Evander’s muscles, sore from holding taut for so long, responded with relief as her bare fingertips touched his wrist, and she gently traced soothing circles over his scars.

Even after the way he had treated her, how he had spoken to her, how he had ignored her throughout that day, Helena was still there to bring him back from the brink of destruction. It was wonderful and awful at the same time, because as much as he loved her for it, he knew he should not—could not—rely on her.

Jeremy yanked Helena suddenly around the waist, ripping away her soothing touch in a brutal way as he pulled her to his side and raised his glass.

“To my beautiful bride-to-be!” he shouted.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, completely unaware of the wide range of emotions Evander had endured. He forced a smile, bowed to the couple, ignoring Helena’s worried eyes, and before he could be pushed into another toast, Evander slipped away.

Chapter 15

“Jeremy, please,” Helena whispered. “I really must speak with you about something important. I meant to before the party started, but—”

“Helena, dearest, do not be like that,” Jeremy cut her off with a pleading, whispered tone. “I know you are dreadfully angry with me for leaving all the planning to you, but can we not discuss the issue later? We have guests, and now we must put on a good show for them!”

Helena bit her bottom lip, torn between maintaining her composure for the moment and the growing need to talk with him about Evander. She was not certain she could keep up this act any longer. She glanced toward the busy parlor, even though she knew she would not see him. He had slipped away the moment Jeremy finished his toast, and she did not blame him.

There was one moment when she thought he was about to run off because of all the attention, but when she had grabbed his hand, he seemed to calm down. She could not imagine what it was like for him. To be surrounded by people who had treated him like a pariah after everything he had been through.

If all that was not stressful enough, Helena had seen Lord Ingram leering at her while keeping his arm around her mother—like they were both his prey, and he was just playing a wicked game until he decided to devour them both.

“I know that,” Helena whispered, focusing on what she could control in the moment. “However, Jeremy, some issues have unfolded in your absence, and we really must talk.”

“After the party,” Jeremy cajoled, patting her arm. “I promise. For now, just let us enjoy the celebrations and get blissfully drunk!”

Before she could plead with him one more time, Jeremy let her go and walked over to Letty and the other gentlemen she was speaking with—no doubt reveling in the attention they were giving her. Helena watched, feeling indignant as her friend and soon-to-be husband continued to enjoy the festivities.

“Helena, darling, why do you look so glum?” her mother asked, coming to her side.

So many reasons, and I wish I could share them all with you.

“Lord Ingram’s presence,” she answered instead. “It is most unsettling to have him here after what he did.”

Mary-Anne sighed woefully as she looked to Lord Ingram, who thankfully was now occupied with speaking to a few other gentlemen.

“Yes, I know,” Mary-Anne agreed. “I asked him to leave, but he refused. I believe once the wedding is over, he truly will go away.”

Doubt filled Helena’s mind. At one time, she had thought the same thing, but after last night, she was more inclined to believe that nothing short of brute force would get Lord Ingram to keep his disgusting hands to himself.

“I do not mean to worry you, dear,” Mary-Anne apologized. “Weddings are stressful enough on their own. Please put my troubles out of your mind and focus on your party.”