did you lose?”
“Two thousand.”
Oh God. She wanted to scream. Two thousand more. “Why? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Will, why did you ever think more gambling would solve the problem?”
“I thought my luck had to change.”
“These places aren’t about luck! They fleece foolish young men.”
“Some men win, and win enormous amounts. These places can’t cheat men—no one would go. There are rules about that sort of thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why couldn’t you have stayed away?”
“I don’t know. I can’t, Helena. It’s like the way some men need opium or liquor. I seem to crave it. But Whitehall will make it good. I’m sure of it. He’ll clear away the additional debt.”
What was it that obsessed Will with such places? She could make him promise to stay away, but she knew he would promise and vow and give his word of honor—then he would completely ignore his vow. How could she keep him away?
“Helena, I don’t want to put you at the risk of ruin. There has to be a way for me to acquire the money—”
“No!” Not more disaster. Will was right. She was the only one who could fix this. She took a deep breath. “No, I am going to do it. I have to do it. I will get into the duke’s house, no matter what it takes. I will save this family. And you will never gamble again, Will.”
At once he brightened. “I won’t, dear sister, I promise—”
“I am not interested in promises. I will make certain you never do it again.”
“How?”
“If you really intended to never gamble again, it wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” In truth, she had no answer, but she knew how to bluff. Crossing her arms over her chest, she marched away from Will, toward the Rotten Row—the stretch of sand track upon which gentleman loved to race upon their beautiful steeds.
She caught her breath. A huge, pure white horse thundered along the row toward her, long powerful legs consuming the ground, hooves throwing up sand. Astride the massive animal: the Duke of Greybrooke.
Greybrooke rode like a god. He lifted off the saddle, supported on his strong legs, his thighs bulging in riding breeches. His tail coat flew out behind him, his hat remained firmly on his head, and he looked every inch the duke. Spotting her, he slowed the horse to a canter, then a walk, and he reined in at her side.
Helena looked up at long legs, a broad chest, a dazzling smile, and insolently wicked green eyes. Pure white collar points touched the bronze skin of his throat, where dark stubble graced his strong jaw.
She knew what she must do. Agree to become the mistress of this handsome, dangerous man.
He lifted his hat. “Good afternoon, Miss Winsome.” He spoke in such a cool, careless way, even she would believe this was a chance encounter and he was utterly indifferent to her. Then he leaned over, eyes bright, and murmured in his deep baritone, “Meet me over there, behind that grove of trees and near the lilac bushes, where we will be away from curious eyes.”
With that, he straightened, gave a slight shake of the reins, and his mount trotted away.
She shivered. What she was about to do was wrong, sinful, and was against every principal of propriety she’d vowed to embrace. Yet she gazed at his broad back and thought—
I could touch him. If I become his mistress, I can touch his beautiful shoulders and his strong back and—heavens—his chest. All her wicked fantasies could be hers.
That was the real danger, wasn’t it? The danger wasn’t entirely about him, it was also about her . About wanting a fantasy, when the reality wasn’t seductive or enticing at all. In reality, she would end up cold, lonely, devastated.
Helena followed. She had no other choice after all.
It wasn’t yet the fashionable hour for members of the ton to stroll in the park. But there were gentleman riding, along with governesses and children who had come to picnic and play. She casually made her way across the grass toward the trees, as
“Two thousand.”
Oh God. She wanted to scream. Two thousand more. “Why? Oh, for heaven’s sake, Will, why did you ever think more gambling would solve the problem?”
“I thought my luck had to change.”
“These places aren’t about luck! They fleece foolish young men.”
“Some men win, and win enormous amounts. These places can’t cheat men—no one would go. There are rules about that sort of thing.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why couldn’t you have stayed away?”
“I don’t know. I can’t, Helena. It’s like the way some men need opium or liquor. I seem to crave it. But Whitehall will make it good. I’m sure of it. He’ll clear away the additional debt.”
What was it that obsessed Will with such places? She could make him promise to stay away, but she knew he would promise and vow and give his word of honor—then he would completely ignore his vow. How could she keep him away?
“Helena, I don’t want to put you at the risk of ruin. There has to be a way for me to acquire the money—”
“No!” Not more disaster. Will was right. She was the only one who could fix this. She took a deep breath. “No, I am going to do it. I have to do it. I will get into the duke’s house, no matter what it takes. I will save this family. And you will never gamble again, Will.”
At once he brightened. “I won’t, dear sister, I promise—”
“I am not interested in promises. I will make certain you never do it again.”
“How?”
“If you really intended to never gamble again, it wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” In truth, she had no answer, but she knew how to bluff. Crossing her arms over her chest, she marched away from Will, toward the Rotten Row—the stretch of sand track upon which gentleman loved to race upon their beautiful steeds.
She caught her breath. A huge, pure white horse thundered along the row toward her, long powerful legs consuming the ground, hooves throwing up sand. Astride the massive animal: the Duke of Greybrooke.
Greybrooke rode like a god. He lifted off the saddle, supported on his strong legs, his thighs bulging in riding breeches. His tail coat flew out behind him, his hat remained firmly on his head, and he looked every inch the duke. Spotting her, he slowed the horse to a canter, then a walk, and he reined in at her side.
Helena looked up at long legs, a broad chest, a dazzling smile, and insolently wicked green eyes. Pure white collar points touched the bronze skin of his throat, where dark stubble graced his strong jaw.
She knew what she must do. Agree to become the mistress of this handsome, dangerous man.
He lifted his hat. “Good afternoon, Miss Winsome.” He spoke in such a cool, careless way, even she would believe this was a chance encounter and he was utterly indifferent to her. Then he leaned over, eyes bright, and murmured in his deep baritone, “Meet me over there, behind that grove of trees and near the lilac bushes, where we will be away from curious eyes.”
With that, he straightened, gave a slight shake of the reins, and his mount trotted away.
She shivered. What she was about to do was wrong, sinful, and was against every principal of propriety she’d vowed to embrace. Yet she gazed at his broad back and thought—
I could touch him. If I become his mistress, I can touch his beautiful shoulders and his strong back and—heavens—his chest. All her wicked fantasies could be hers.
That was the real danger, wasn’t it? The danger wasn’t entirely about him, it was also about her . About wanting a fantasy, when the reality wasn’t seductive or enticing at all. In reality, she would end up cold, lonely, devastated.
Helena followed. She had no other choice after all.
It wasn’t yet the fashionable hour for members of the ton to stroll in the park. But there were gentleman riding, along with governesses and children who had come to picnic and play. She casually made her way across the grass toward the trees, as