Her smile felt bittersweet. “That I wish we could stay here forever…and that we probably both need a bath.”

Rhystan gave a chuckle as he stood, scooping her up into those strong arms, and then stepped into the still warm water. He sighed, once she was propped against him, her back to his chest. “I know the situation isn’t perfect. Once things are settled with Ravenna, I’ll free you from our agreement and see you settled anywhere of your choosing.” He paused, and Sarani’s heart squeezed, predicting what was coming. “Perhaps we can still find a way to see each other? I could…visit you.”

Like a paramour.

Sarani didn’t answer. He didn’t have to say the words, though they hung between them like a cloud. A tiny part of her screamed that she would do anything to see him, even for a few stolen moments, and even if she was hidden away like something to be ashamed of. But the rest of her railed. She could never be anyone’s mistress…not even the man she loved.

She deserved more.

But Sarani understood all too well about the demands of duty and the bonds of family. She would never begrudge Ravenna, whom she adored, a good match. And the dowager duchess… Well, she’d lost nearly everything—a husband and two sons. Sarani did not blame her for wanting to protect the family she had left. If she were a mother, she’d do the same thing.

Logic did not make the thought of what she had to do hurt any less. She let out a breath. She would start fresh, store away her memories, and treasure the time she’d had. Sarani felt a tear trek down her cheek and was grateful for the humidity of the chamber and the bathwater to disguise it. How would she ever be able to leave?

How would her body survive without its heart?

Twenty-Four

“Good gracious, this is the worst kind of crush,” Ravenna complained sotto voce. “I can barely move, and have you ever noticed how much it stinks? Underneath the oils and the perfumes, you’d think people would smell pleasant, but no, it’s sweat and grime and goodness knows what else. Honestly, if I breathe in this putrid air much longer, I might die.”

Rhystan frowned at his sister’s diatribe, but Sarani hid her smile behind her fan. “Surely, you must love Eau de Smelly Sirs by now?” she teased and then winked at Ravenna.

His sister, the very soul of indiscretion, threw back her head and laughed, drawing the attention of many in the ballroom, including their mother. He resisted the urge to tug on his collar. Being in this sweltering ballroom was torture, but it had to be done for Ravenna’s sake. The sooner she married, the quicker he could leave.

The hypocrisy weighed on him, but he shoved it down.