The question cut through the pain. Hortense hadn’t once questioned it. She’d simply accepted it with anof course.
“Was it that he wanted you gone? Or could it have been for a different reason?” Mariana paused, holding Hortense in suspense. The woman was so very good at such moments. “Mayhap he wanted you too much.”
Hortense opened her mouth to refute the very notion but was only able to produce a muddled croak that bore no resemblance to the English language, or any language at all, save that of despair.
Mariana reached for her reticule and stood. “As your friend, this is the last I’ll say on the matter.” She moved close enough to take both of Hortense’s hands, squeezing as she said, “You must let go of your past to have the future your heart desires.” She dug inside her reticule. “Oh, and Nick sent this.”
She pressed a note into Hortense’s hand and an affectionate kiss to her cheek before sweeping out of the room. Hortense broke the seal and took in the contents.
You’ve likely noticed that Doyle has beenneutralized.
You might send your husband a note ofgratitude.
Or, better yet, thank him in person.—N
All the breath left Hortense’s body. She sat slightly stunned, for a full minute.
Jamie—it had been him. He’d cleared Doyle out of London. Which meant…
He knew. He’d known she’d taken his signet ring almost as soon as she took it. And—this was the part currently causing all the turmoil in her insides—he’d instinctively gone to the source. He’d…
He’d freed her from Doyle.
Once a eel, always a eel.
She’d held on to that malignant belief for years. But not Jamie. If he’d believed that of her, he would have destroyed her standing with Nick and Mariana, at the very least. Jamie saw a different her, the person she wanted to be. The person she was with him.
Her old belief—that she was nothing more than what Doyle said she was—didn’t have to be true any longer. That was what Jamie had done for her.
Sudden agitation surged inside her, and she shot to a stand. She began pacing, her feet unable to keep up with her racing mind.
You must let go of your past to have the future your heart desires.
The past. The past contained so many layers. The past even before Doyle, before the workhouse. The past that contained the true her. She’d always tried to shove that past behind, locking it away and choosing to move forward, ever forward. She’d convinced herself she’d shed that past with the name Amelie, but Mariana’s words resonated deep within her.
She’d hadn’t let it go at all. In fact, she’d been carrying it around all these years, like a lead weight strapped to her back. And it had everything to do with her heart and its desires.
When Papa and Maman had died, her heart hadn’t died with them. It had closed in on itself, tight and impenetrable. It had no other choice if she was to survive the workhouse and Flick Doyle and even her life as a spy. The only way to be safe was to be entirely reliant on herself. But now…
Mayhap he wanted you too much.
Now, perhaps, a different sort of safety was available to her, but one that required her to open her heart so she could take an unburdened leap toward happiness.
The unresolved knot tightened in her throat, and tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t cried in over a decade, since the passing of her parents, but there was no stopping it now. She collapsed on the nearest chair and wept hard, salty tears, mourning all she’d lost—her parents, her innocence…Jamie.
Sir Bacon jumped onto her lap and curled into a ball, staying with her until her eyes were dry. She didn’t feel gutted, as she would have predicted, but, instead, cleansed. She’d needed this cry for a good number of years. And in this new, purified light, she was able to experience a spark of something. Something that resembled hope.
There was no recovering her parents or her innocence. They were gone forever. But Jamie…
She loved him. She needed him. And that love and that need, they were safe with him.
She must go to him. Not tomorrow, at Monday night dinner, but tonight and where it all began.
And then she would open herself to him.
If his feelings were the same, she would let herself be loved, and she would love, unguardedly, without limits.
For what was the purpose of a life without love? It was but a shadow of a life. The life she’d been living for so many years.
