She had just turned the corner at the top of the stairs when he caught her.
“Evelyn…”
She turned, surprised. A question lingered in her eyes, but before she could speak, he was there. His hands slid around her waist, drawing her into him. He bent, without any hesitation now, and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was quiet, certain, and deep with all the feeling he had refused to name.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fierce or desperate. It was soft. It was a promise, shaped in silence.
She melted into him with a sigh, her hands rising instinctively to curl into his chest. She kissed him back like she had been waiting, without even knowing, for this very moment. When he finally pulled away, his forehead lingered against hers, and he exhaled a breath that felt like it had been trapped in his lungs for years.
He looked at her then as she was—her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in shock and something far more delicate. He smiled.
“All right,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Now, you can go back to your friends.”
She stared at him, speechless.
He raised one brow in a mockingly patient look. “I’ll even promise not to touch anything in the study.”
Her eyes widened then she let out a stunned, breathless laugh.
And as she turned away, smiling so brightly he could feel it even after she disappeared down the hall, Robert stood in the corridor alone with his heart beating with a wonder he had once believed long dead.
And this time, he didn’t stop himself from feeling it.
The following day, Robert stood before the tall doors of Lord Brimwood’s study, his knuckles hovering for a breath too long before they rapped against the wood. The sound echoed with perfect politeness, but in reality, it masked the storm behind his ribs.
He had planned this. Rehearsed it. Practiced the tone, the casual curiosity. The neat lies woven into truth.
A moment later, the door opened, and Lord Brimwood looked up from his writing desk, eyebrows raised.
“Your Grace,” he greeted. “This is a surprise.”
Robert inclined his head. “Forgive the intrusion, My Lord. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything critical.”
“Only estate tedium.” The man gestured to a leather armchair before the desk. “Do come in.”
Robert sat with his spine straight and his hands folded neatly in his lap. He waited for the door to click closed behind him before speaking.
“I came to speak with you about something that has troubled a friend of mine.” A pause. “Lord Mason Cunningham. He believes someone may have tampered with his seal, perhaps even forged it. I recall Evelyn mentioning, once, that you had endured something similar.”
Brimwood’s mouth tightened faintly then loosened into a faint nod. “Yes. A strange business, that. Long years ago now.”
Robert watched him carefully. “Would you be willing to tell me how it was discovered? And what was done?”
The man sat back, steepling his fingers. “There isn’t much to say, I’m afraid. I had letters returned to me that I had no memory of writing. Questions from gentlemen I never contacted. It allseemed to happen at once. There were inquiries. An audience with the King. The seal was remade, witnessed by those in authority, of course, to mark the change.”
“But there was never any confirmation of who had forged it?”
Brimwood shook his head slowly. “None. No suspects. No accusations I could prove. It stopped after I changed the seal. Whoever they were… they vanished.”
Robert’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you never attempted to search further?”
There was a pause then Brimwood offered a small, sad smile. “Some things, Your Grace, remain beyond our reach. I had a family to think of. An estate to protect. And I was not a young man with time to spare. Eventually, I had to let it go.”
Let it go.
The words sank into Robert like cold water down the spine. He nodded, offered a few more polite inquiries, and after a short while, took his leave, all appropriate courtesy in place. He walked through the halls alone with his hands behind his back and his thoughts loud in his skull.
Let it go.
