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Helena was vaguely aware that she had just lied, but she ignored it.

Teresa pouted but remained seated in the man’s lap.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“If it is a kiss you are looking for my little Nyx, I would be happy to help,” the man in the white mask offered, smiling at her seductively.

In his lap Teresa blushed and giggled before she said, “he isquitegood at it, Nyx.”

Nyx. The Goddess of Night in Greek Mythology. Helena knew the legend well, but she had the sudden urge to correct them. If her moniker was to be anything, it was the one Morgan had given her. Persephone. She shook her head, pushing the thought away and said, “thank you for your um,kindoffer, but no. We really must be leaving now.”

“It was a pleasure,” the man said to Teresa, sealing one more kiss of Teresa’s lips before she was pulled out of his lap.

“And more,” Teresa sighed dreamily, wiggling her fingers at him as Helena began to pull her towards the foyer.

“What has gotten into you?” Teresa asked once they were back in Helena’s carriage.

“Nothing,” Helena lied, taking off her mask and chucking it to the carriage floor. “I just…realized how silly and useless this all was.”

Teresa studied her a moment and asked her again what had happened, but Helena would not speak. She could not, for if she did, the tears that filled her eyes and had swollen her throat shut would surely spill.

Morgan.How, of all the men in all the private parties, had she been drawn to Morgan? She had known him her entire life, and to her he had always been the trickster; the sarcastic member of the bunch. Throughout her teen years, he had always been the one who would first make her angry, then make her laugh despite her anger. Morgan was the thoughtless but charming Peter Pan of the group.

How hadhemade her feel such things? Helena’s body clenched in longing as her mind flashed back to the way she had drunk wine from his lips, and she felt a tear slip through her barrier of stubbornness and down her cheek. The worst part was that she found herself longing for him to make her feel that way again.

CHAPTER FOUR

Be calm. He knows nothing about last night. Of where you were or where she was.

“Good morrow, brother,” Morgan sang out, flinging open the door to Ambrose’s study.

He strode into the den as confidently as ever with his usual cheeky smile cemented to his face. Ambrose looked up from his papers, his blonde brows raised in annoyance; the look he sported whenever someone interrupted his work.

“How are you always so cheerful, even in the mornings?” Ambrose asked. He let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair and swept a hand towards the empty seat across from him.

“God does have His favorites, old boy, and I am blessed to be one of them,” Morgan quipped back, taking the offered seat. “What has you so grumpy on such a beautiful autumn day?”

“This thing with George,” Ambrose replied, sparing no small talk. He picked up one of the papers on his desk, shook his head at it, and then tossed it down.

“It does not sit well with me.”

Morgan’s smile threatened to shrink, but he kept it in place and shrugged. Ambrose was not the only one who would not let go of the investigation into their fathers’ deaths. It would have been odd to suddenly stop after nearly twenty years of searching. Although the villain had been caught, and was currently paying for his sins in one of the most wretched prisons London had to offer, their search for the truth continued.

“Take heart, brother. You are just restless,” Morgan replied, keeping his feelings to himself. “You need to pursue a new fascination.”

“I have plenty of those,” Ambrose remarked, a smirk spreading across his face. “Barbara is…an ingenious woman when it comes to sating my particular fascinations.”

It surprised them all — Duncan’s wife, Alice, and Ezra’s wife, Lydia — when Helena’s dear friend, Barbara, had fallen in love with and married Ambrose. But there was no doubt that their feelings for one another were real, and they had baby Beau to show for it.

“I am sure she is,” Morgan mused, wagging his brows salaciously.

Ambrose chuckled as he stood up.

“Still, perhaps you are right. In any event, what brings you here so early? Hiding from last night’s vixen?”

Morgan barely disguised the sudden jerk of his body as the memory of last night filled him, but hid it behind a coughing laugh.

“You know me too well, brother,” he simply quipped back, rising from his own seat. “I came to remind you of Alice’s little party for Ezra and Lydia. It is tomorrow.”