And that sliver, that breath of space, felt like a hope he did not deserve but would fight for with everything left in him.
He reached the crest of the hill overlooking the village and paused, breath catching in the cool evening air.
Words wouldn’t be enough.
Labour wouldn’t be enough.
Patience wouldn’t be enough.
If Violet was ever to believe him—truly believe him—she needed more than apologies and fence posts.
She needed security.
She needed protection.
She needed proof he was willing to rebuild everything he had shattered.
And Lily—
Lily needed her birthright restored, her future safeguarded, the legitimacy she should have been granted from the moment she drew breath.
But was it possible?
Could he, after all he had done, truly give them that?
He drew a long, steady breath and resumed walking, the decision forming sharper with each step.
There was only one person with the authority to grant them that—
Queen Victoria.
He had served Her Majesty faithfully for four years.
Navigated diplomatic crises in Vienna without complaint.
Completed every assignment with precision.
Been commended twice in dispatches.
Granted more than one private audience—rare marks of trust for a man his age.
He had earned the Queen’s confidence, perhaps even her quiet regard.
But never, never had he asked anything of her.
Tonight, he would.
He would write to her Private Secretary at once.
Request a private audience.
Lay out only what was necessary—enough to convey the gravity of his intentions and why he required the Crown’s authority to carry them out.
He needed what only the sovereign could bestow—
the means to secure his daughter’s future,
to restore the legitimacy she had been unjustly denied,
