She was certain two men had been following her for the last few days. Had Whitehall sent them to watch her? Or was it possible Greybrooke now suspected her? But how could he—how could he suspect her and make love to her so much? She had taken care to evade them to come here. Now she dragged Will into the quiet office and glared at him. “How could you have printed that story?” she cried, once the door was firmly shut and no one could hear. “I told you it in the strictest confidence. I haven’t told Whitehall yet, and I don’t know if I am going to tell him. You shouldn’t have made it public. Anyway, we have no idea if it’s true. I put it together from hints in diaries.” “I think it’s true, Helena. The Duke of Greybrooke came here and tackled me about it. Demanded to know where I’d gotten the story from.” “Greybrooke came?” Her heart wobbled. And fear hit her. “He didn’t find out who I am?” “No, why would he? He denied the story, of course. Said his father’s death had been an accident.
