He lowered his head and nudged her outstretched hand.
A wave of relief so profound it made her dizzy washed over Helena.
She took hold of his forelock gently.
“Come on, boy,” she whispered. “Let us go home.”
Slowly, she began to walk him back toward the distant paddock.
The grooms watched in stunned silence.
As she reached the paddock, she saw the gate swinging wide open. The bolt was not just unlatched. It was broken. The metal housing had been smashed as if struck by a heavy stone.
This was no accident.
It was deliberate sabotage.
And then she saw the Duke standing by the stable block.
He had come out to see what the commotion was. With him was Lady Sabine, a look of thwarted fury on her beautiful face.
Marcus’s gaze was fixed on the broken latch, and then on Sabine.
His expression was colder and harder than she had ever seen it.
He said something to Sabine, his voice too low for Helena to hear.
Sabine’s face went pale. She turned and practically ran to her waiting carriage, climbing in without waiting for the footman.
The phaeton tore down the drive and was gone.
The Duke walked over to Helena, who was now standing inside the paddock with Chaos, stroking the horse’s neck.
His sea-gray eyes were unreadable.
“Are you harmed?” he asked, his voice tight.
“No, Your Grace. We are both unharmed.”
He looked at her, at her plain dress now stained with mud, at her calm hand on the neck of the supposedly untamable beast.
He looked at her as if seeing a completely new person.
“You saved him,” he said.
It was not a question.
“He just needed someone to be calm,” she replied simply.
He nodded slowly.
He reached out and ran a hand down the stallion’s powerful shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle.
It was the first time she had seen him touch the horse.
“I am glad you were not harmed,” he said, his voice stiff with unspent emotion.
He turned and walked away, back to the cold, silent house.
But this time, the silence he left behind felt different.
It felt like the quiet after a storm.
The incident with Chaos changed something fundamental in the house.
The Duke began to seek Helena’s company, not just in the shared silence of the library, but in quiet, hesitant conversation.
He asked her to walk with him one afternoon, not in the formal gardens, but up on the fells, where the wind was sharp and the view stretched for miles.
They walked for a long time without speaking, the only sound their boots on the rough track and the cry of a distant bird. The landscape was vast and empty, and in its emptiness there was space to breathe.
“Sabine Finch will not be calling again,” he said abruptly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Helena glanced at him. His profile was stark against the gray sky.
“I see.”