Page 136 of The Duke's Dream
And with that single step, he extinguished the last flicker of hope still burning in her breast.
Brushing her tears away, Helene raced to the carriage.
As the coach sped into the night, she stared out the window, straining to catch a last glimpse of him. Too soon, the mist thickened, swirling around and swallowing him completely.
Gaetan reached over, squeezing her fingers. "You did the right thing."
Helene blinked back her tears as the weight of her decision settled into her bones, impossibly heavy. A shuddering breath left her soul, but she had to be strong. She had to believe that leaving was an act of love—love for herself and for the man William could never fully be.
"Have I?" she whispered.
Then why did it feel as if her heart was being ripped apart?
***
They traveled in silence, hooves clattering against cobblestones, the city’s dense fog swallowing their departure. They left all the lights behind. Fields, woods, cottages, all blurred past. Dawn found them on the coast, the salty breeze making it all too real.
Helene’s legs were stiff and cramping when she alighted at the port of Deal. Darkness enveloped the village. The still, briny air was disturbed only by the horse’s heavy breathing and the ships whispering against the water. Helene watched everything as if she were dreaming.
Two shadows moved in their direction, emerging from the mist. Helene cried out when she recognized Louise and Celeste. She embraced her friends, holding them as a ship clings to its anchor in a storm.
Her brother strode away from them to find the captain of his vessel, and they watched his white uniform blur against the turbulent waters. It was the last time she would refer to the strip of water as the English Channel. Come tomorrow, she would have to say La Manche.
Helene tightened her hold on her friends. “I don’t think Parisians will understand Shakespeare’s quotes.”
Like a deluge, the tears came, and Helene dissolved into sobs.
Louise rubbed her back. “You will learn quotes from Voltaire, Racine, and Molière.”
Celeste clasped her hand, a watery smile on her lips. “Did you say goodbye to him?”
Thinking about William speared her chest.
Helene nodded, her chin trembling. “It happened too fast.”
Celeste caressed her cheek, her face soft with pity. “I was hoping he would make you stay.”
Helene swallowed her whimper. She had hoped the same.
Helene sighed and dried her tears with her brother’s handkerchief. “William hates me for making him fall in love with me.”
And worse, he would hate her even more for leaving him. She had seen in his eyes how she had hurt him. How she wished she had understood it sooner. He loathed how passion robbed him of control. The storm in his eyes that made his gaze so compelling—he despised it. And he condemned her for bringing forth the torment. He hated the part of himself that wanted more—more out of life than his duties as the Silent Sovereign, more from what society dictated.
If she had stayed, they would both be miserable, and she wouldn’t survive seeing the hatred festering in his eyes day by day, knowing she was the cause.
Celeste's eyes turned moist. “What will you do? We all know you look terrible in a boy’s clothes.”
Helene laughed through her tears. “Indeed, I would. So, the only alternative is to escape to the woods.”
A distant, belligerent woods no Englishman could follow her into.
“Care to join me?”
Celeste bit her lip, her gaze fixed on where they came from. “A Bow Street Runner came to the theater today. He might have news about my family.”
Helene kissed her cheek. “That’s wonderful. I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.”
Helene turned to Louise. “And you?”
