“You shouldn’t be here.” Her tear-roughened voice faintly reached his ears. Attuned to this woman as he’d never been with another, Robert had spied Helena as she’d spun on her heel and fled the ballroom as though the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. In that moment, the Devil himself could not have compelled him to remain dancing with Lady Diana or any other. “I should be where you are,” he returned; placing his lips against her temple, he tucked another brown strand behind her ear.
