Mariana’s brows knit together. “Memory loss? Olivia had him declared deadin absentia. Two witnesses testified to having dug his grave after the retreat.”
“Your uncle”—Nick jutted his chin toward Montfort—“knew from the beginning that Percy was alive and began using him to gather intelligence without telling him who he really was.” Mariana’s expression darkened, a sure sign of the storm building inside her. “By the time I crossed paths with Percy in Spain, it had been a year since hisdeath. I felt obliged to do something for him.” Nick hesitated at the memory. He’d never encountered a man more in need of a lifeline. “He needed to know his past . . . who he was.”
“You helped him recover his memory and get away from Uncle by”—Understanding dawned across her face—“faking his death.”
Nick nodded once. The way she spoke the words, as if she’d switched angles and was now viewing him from a fresh perspective, made his insides go light.
“You gave him his life back.”
And now he felt something more . . . something he’d thought long lost: hope.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, attempting to rein in the feeling.
It didn’t work.
It felt as though a tectonic shift had occurred between them, strangely connecting them through its trauma.
“What Percy chooses to do with his life is his decision, but you gave him the opportunity. And you never told anyone,” she finished on a whisper.
Nick intuited what she left unsaid: you never toldme. No matter how connected to him she might feel, his deception continued to form a barrier between them.
“I couldn’t betray Percy’s trust. But mostly”—Finally, he was free to tell her every last drop of the truth—“I couldn’t betray his life. I didn’t know—”
Her eyes brightened with epiphany. “What my uncle would do. Who knows what a man who would withhold an amnesiac’s memory from him—an amnesiac who happened to be his nephew-in-law, by the way—is capable of?”
Nick nodded.
“You’ve been protecting Percy all along.”
Nick remained silent, afraid to reply, afraid to move, afraid to break the gossamer spell that held their gazes locked. He detected nascent trust in there.
Montfort shifted on his feet, drawing Mariana’s attention. “Uncle, do I even know you?” she spat. “You not only hid Percy, but you used a sick man to do your dirty work. Are you incapable of empathy or remorse? You owe Percy.”
“I owe Percy? What? An apology?” Montfort sputtered. “For turning a frivolous boy into a man? Percy Bretagne was champing at the bit to make something of himself. I presented him the opportunity he craved. He took it.”
“He may be aman, but what of his humanity?” she countered.
“That is his concern,” Montfort replied. “Every person on God’s green earth has to figure out how to live his or her life. For some”—He held out his hands, palms facing the ceiling. He lifted one—“life clicks easily into place. For others”—He lifted the other—“life is the eternal puzzle.”
Mariana took a step closer to Montfort. “You sent men to murder—”
“Not murder, my dear,” Montfort interjected.
“—Nick,” she pressed. “Why have you betrayed our family?”
“Betrayed our family?” asked Montfort, visibly bewildered. “My dearest Mariana, all I want is your happiness. You are like a daughter to me. This place”—He spread his arms wide—“will be yours one day. I would never betray you.”
“And what of my husband?” she asked quietly. “A betrayal of him is a betrayal of me.”
My husband. Those words filled a space within Nick that he hadn’t realized was empty. The possessivemy. And no longerNick, but a husband.Herhusband.
“Here is what will happen, Uncle. Now that you know Percy is alive, and now that Nick has foiled the assassination plot, you will let this entire matter pass.”
“Of course, my dear,” Montfort replied, recovering a dash of his usual sangfroid, “think no more of it.”
“Furthermore”—She paused, allowing the weight of the matter to sink in—“you will retire from Whitehall, thereby leaving your reputation and family intact.”
Montfort’s smug smile slipped a notch. Nick might have to accept that his wife had outmaneuvered them all. He’d never seen anyone put Bertrand Montfort in his place. Yet here was Mariana doing just that. Pride swelled within him. He may have lost her, but he’d once possessed this glorious woman.
