Page 134 of The Duke's Dream
The silence between them grew taut.
She could see it—his mind stalling, then whirring to life again, torn between instinct and realization. Would he do his duty? Would he raise the alarm, denounce her brother—the enemy—and condemn her by association?
He didn't deserve this. Why had she placed William in such an unfathomable dilemma? The country he vowed to protect or the woman he claimed to love.
But then his expression shifted, assuming the duke's facade. The blue in his eyes swirled with icy fury, no longer a mere flame or passing tempest but a blizzard that threatened to bury her under its cold.
"What other lies have you told me?"
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It cut through her more cleanly than a blade, and her heart shrank in her chest as if trying to retreat from it.
He thinks I betrayed him.
Her voice cracked on the last word. She took a hesitant step toward him, her slipper skimming the wet cobblestones.
"I promise you. I didn't know Gaetan would come."
Her breath hitched, lodged behind a sob that refused to rise. The look in William's eyes—hurt, disbelief, betrayal—was more than she could bear.
Please don't hate me.
She had never seen him like this—so still, so carved in fury.
He turned to her brother, jaw clenched. "Leave now. Take your secrets back to France. I won't set the alarm."
Then he reached for Helene's arm.
"Come." His voice dropped, tight with dark emotion.
Helene didn't move.
He gazed at her, and his anger startled her. His two sides became painfully clear—the Silent Sovereign would rather lose her in the mist, but the other, the William she loved, couldn't stand to be apart from her, even her being a scandalous ballerina and now, the enemy's sister.
Helene's heart ached so much she couldn't breathe. She couldn't bear the hatred in his eyes. It was as if… as if he resented her and himself for what they had become.
She felt the chill creeping into her core, a bitter cold that numbed her spirit and stole her life force. This would not thaw with time or tenderness. It was a storm that would only fester. They would never have a real life like this. Grief swirled through her like the wings of a dark raven.
"Helene," her brother urged, his gaze flicking toward the palace. "We must leave."
"I'm sorry. About everything."
Swallowing a sob, Helene rose on her tiptoes and pressed a last kiss to William's cheek. "Goodbye."
William's palm covered the place she had kissed. "Where are you going?"
Helene smiled sadly, her lips trembling. "I'm going back to Paris. To my home."
Gaetan sheathed his sword, the tension in his stance easing as he opened the carriage door for her.
William took her wrist. "This is a joke. Tell me this is a joke, Helene."
Helene shook her head sadly.
"You don't have to go with him. Stay. Under my protection. No one needs to know," William's voice sounded desperate.
The clanging of an alarm bell echoed through the night.
Gaetan scanned the deserted street. "We need to leave now, Helene. The Horse Guards are already searching the city. Before the week is out, you will see my head hanging from a gibbet."
