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He motioned towards the door that Boris was guarding.

“Gentlemen who enjoy outings such as these.”

As Morgan studied Luke, something in the back of his mind growled protectively. There was something about his face that made him want to punch it. Morgan liked fighting quite a bit, but it had never become personal.

“Perhaps we will run into one another,” Morgan replied and decided it was time to leave. With a nod of his head he stepped around the gentleman and Duncan quickly following.

Luke simply raised his hat to them.

“Perhaps we shall,” he called back.

As they left the man behind, Morgan heard him murmur the nameCurtisand stopped walking.

“Come on, let us get out of here before he follows us home like a lost pup,” Duncan urged.

Though he wanted to turn around and ask Luke who he was talking about, Morgan heeded his friend and let his curiosity die in the night air.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Raventhorn, it was lovely,” Helena said politely, curtsying before the gentleman.

She was unsure whether she had danced well or not. Her mind was constantly preoccupied by Morgan and the things Morgan did to her or taught her to do to herself. Several days had gone by since their last lesson, and not a night had passed where she did not lock her quarter doors, climb naked beneath her covers, and fondle herself in the same way that Morgan had.

As promised, she had whispered his name each time she found release, and let the two syllables flow from her lips like a prayer, or a plea.

“It was a great pleasure, my lady,” Lord Raventhorn replied heartily, “You dance so beautifully. Did you practice ballet as a girl?”

“She did, actually,” Barbara chimed in, approaching them from the side with a smile. “Is she not the most graceful of us all?”

“Oh, most certainly,” Lord Raventhorn agreed, giving Helena a moon-eyed look of approval.

She smiled politely at him but felt nothing for the man, and replied awkwardly with a simple, “thank you.”

“Um, would you excuse me, Lord Raventhorn?” Helena asked, twisting her dusky pink satin-gloved hands. “I am positively parched.”

“Allow me to get it for you,” he urged, already taking a step towards the refreshments table.

“No, please,” Helena urged, forcing a light laugh to disguise her urgency. “I prefer to choose my own glass when I am this thirsty.”

Both he and Barbara looked at her with confusion, but Raventhorn bowed his head towards her.

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied, “I shall keep your companion company in the meantime.”

She gave him another quick curtsy and headed for the refreshments table. Helena drank a full glass of lemonade, needing its tartness to snap her out of her thoughts.

“Helena, love, are you feeling well?” Alice asked, joining Helena and Teresa.

“Perfectly so,” Helena replied after finishing the last gulp of her second glass of lemonade.

“Is there…anything wrong?” Teresa asked innocently.

Helena sensed her friends’ worries. Their concern flowed from them the same way it had from Barbara. They were trying not to push but were all obviously noticing that she was changing. She had lost her fight these last few days, given up completely on denying her future, and had been more closed off than ever.

Her resigned attitude did not include self-pity. It consisted solely of Morgan and his lessons. Irrespective of the man that Ambrose chose to be her husband, she would still have her memories of genuine desire, pleasure and lust.

Two lessons have already passed. Only five remain.

That realization was the only thing that made her sad.