Page 56

H onoria had not planned to see him so soon.

And yet, when she neared the path that led up from the shore, her feet slowed of their own accord.

She told herself it was merely habit. But habit had not sent warmth through her last night when he kissed her, nor had it set her pulse drumming at the thought of seeing him again.

Reese ascended the path, his stride easy, his expression unreadable, until he saw her.

A moment passed, thick with something unspoken.

He did not call her Mrs. Bainbridge. He did not even say her name.

Instead, he simply smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his lips that sent a shiver through her, though she would not allow herself to show it.

“Good morning, Honoria.” His voice was smooth, but there was something else beneath it.

She wet her lips. “Commander.”

His brows lifted slightly.

She cleared her throat. “Reese.”

His smile deepened, approval flickering in his gaze. “You look well-rested.”

That was a lie. But she would not admit that, nor would she admit the reason why.

She had barely slept. Each time she closed her eyes, she conjured up his touch, the warmth of his hands framing her face, the way his lips had claimed hers without hesitation.

It had been more than a kiss. It had been a reckoning, one that had upended the careful walls she had built around herself.

“And you, Reese?” she countered, taking a measured step forward. “Or should I say—” She hesitated, then dropped her voice in mock secrecy. “Did you dream of me?”

The moment stretched. Finally, to her absolute delight, he chuckled. A deep, rich sound, too pleased for its own good.

“Now, Honoria,” he mused. “You know I cannot reveal all my secrets so soon.”

She shook her head. “Then we shall see who gives in first, shall we not?”

He extended his arm to her, an invitation. Without thinking, she took it.

The warmth of his touch sent a tremor up her arm. And though neither of them said it, they both felt it, the shift, the newness, the slow unraveling of everything they thought they knew.

The morning was clear, the air crisp with the lingering scent of salt from the sea.

The market square in Rosalynde Bay bustled with activity, merchants calling out their wares, townsfolk haggling over fresh produce, and visitors leisurely browsing the stalls.

She found herself enjoying the energy of the place.

Everything changed last night and now here she was, walking beside him. But what did it mean? Could they simply exist in this delicate space, or had the moment they shared set them on a path they could not retrace?

Beside her, Mr. Kenworth, no, Reese, she reminded herself, a smile spreading across her face, walked with the casual ease of a man who had spent years assessing his surroundings.

His presence was a quiet but undeniable force, one that seemed to make space wherever he moved.

He was no longer simply a passing acquaintance nor merely a charming distraction.

She had felt his lips on hers, the firm and certain way he had pulled her close, the quiet way he had whispered her name as though it belonged to him alone. And here they were, strolling through the market together. His steps fell into rhythm with hers as if they had been doing this for years.

Reese glanced at her, a slow, deliberate look. “You’re quiet this morning, Honoria.”

She inhaled softly. “A rare occurrence, I’m sure.”

He chuckled, but there was something more to it, an unspoken thread pulling between them, tightening with each step. Their hands brushed.

They paused at a vendor’s stall displaying an assortment of trinkets, lockets, ivory combs, and a selection of finely crafted pocket watches.

Reese reached for one, running his thumb over the polished silver case before flicking it open to examine the mechanism.

Honoria stilled. The sight of him holding a pocket watch sent a whisper of something unsettling through her.

“Do you collect them, Reese?” she asked, keeping her tone light despite the strange tightness in her chest.

“Not particularly,” he said, eyes fixed on the timepiece. “But I’ve always found them useful.”

She tilted her head. “For telling time?”

“For knowing when it’s running out.”

A shadow passed over his expression before he snapped the watch shut and placed it back among the others.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat.

Her late husband had always carried a similar watch.

It was the one thing of his she had longed for yet, no sense thinking about that now.

Standing beside Reese, watching him turn it over in his hands as if it were an idle curiosity, the loss of it struck her anew.

She forced herself to move, trailing her fingers over the delicate chains displayed beside the watches. “A peculiar observation from a man who seems entirely unbothered by time.”

His lips quirked. “Ah, but time is a strategist’s greatest ally or greatest enemy.”

“And which is it today?”

He met her gaze, his voice softer this time. “That remains to be seen.”

She exhaled and forced a smile. “Then let us not waste it.”

They stepped away from the vendor’s table and continued through the square.

They stopped at a vendor selling ribbons, Honoria running her fingers over a length of sapphire silk.

“This would suit your evening dress,” Reese remarked, his voice low.

She arched a brow. “Not every woman dresses to be noticed, Reese.”

“Ah, but some deserve to be,” he countered smoothly. “And this color would suit you.”

Before she could respond, a voice, too close, too familiar, cut through the din of the market.

“Mrs. Howard? Is it truly you?”

The world around her seemed to narrow, every muscle in her body locking in place. The fabric slipped from her fingers.

No. Not here. Not now.

She turned slowly, her face carefully composed, but her heart pounded against her ribs. The man before her, dressed in the impeccable fashion of London’s elite, was smiling in the way a man does when he is far too pleased with himself.

“Well, well, Mrs. Howard,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over her. “Or should I say, the elusive Mrs. Howard? I daresay half of London thought you’d run off to some foreign shore.”

Beside her, Reese shifted, his stance subtly changing. Not aggressive, but alert.

“You must be mistaken, sir,” she said evenly.

The man’s smile widened. “Oh, I think not. You disappeared from town so completely. And yet, here you are.”

“Enough.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, but she had no patience for this. “You are mistaken. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She moved to step away, but the man did not allow her any room. He cast a glance toward Reese, clearly noticing his presence for the first time. Then his brow furrowed, and something flickered behind his eyes, recognition.

“Good God,” the man breathed. “You’re Duke Everhall.”

Silence stretched between them. Honoria turned sharply to Reese, her breath catching. “Duke?”

Reese exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He did not look away from the man, but she could feel his attention shifting to her, assessing her reaction.

“You didn’t know?” The man continued, his amusement clear. “You must be the only person in England unaware. I was there when His Majesty granted His Grace the title for his spectacular war efforts. Quite the honor, really.”

Her stomach twisted. A duke. He was a duke. No. Not just a duke. Duke Everhall. The pieces fell into place. The way he carried himself, the quiet command in his voice, the effortless way people stepped aside for him. She turned to him, Her voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Reese’s voice was measured when he finally spoke. “If you’ll excuse us.”

He placed a firm hand at her back, guiding her away from the man before he could say another word. Honoria let him, though her mind was spinning. When they were far enough from prying ears, she pulled from his grasp and turned on him.

“You’re a duke.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He sighed. “Yes.”

“And you did not think to tell me?”

“I did not think it mattered.”

A hollow laugh escaped her. “It mattered, Reese. It has always mattered.” She shook her head, stepping back.

He watched her, his expression unreadable, but she knew him well enough now to see the tension in his jaw. He knew this had changed something between them.

“You let me believe—” She swallowed. “You let me think this was something it could never be.”

He exhaled sharply. “Why do you say that Honoria?”

She wanted to say it, to lay it bare, but her heart was too raw, her thoughts too tangled.

“I need to go,” she murmured instead.

His gaze darkened. “Honoria—”

“Please.”

He did not reach for her again. Reese stood frozen for a moment, his hand flexing at his side.

His grip tightened around his cane as he fought the impulse to go after her.

He had known she might leave, had even prepared for it.

But the hollow ache in his chest told him preparation had meant nothing.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders back, forcing himself to remain still even as every instinct demanded he go after her.