“He killed all the feelings I once had for him with his lies and manipulations,” she said bitterly.
Another lie.
She still loved him.
She always would.
“He was in a desperate position,” Hazel told her.
“As was I,” she countered. “And he took advantage of that. He brought me here to England with the intent to use me. He pretended to care about me. He told me he loved me. He slipped past all my defenses in a way I have never allowed another.”
In the end, that was what hurt the most.
She had trusted him. Had opened her heart. And she had been a fool.
“I know Winchelsea well enough by now,” Hazel said, “and I can honestly tell you, he has feelings for you too.”
“I do not believe that,” she denied. Because she had to.
“Hold on to your anger for him if you must,” said Hazel gently, “but know that he has done everything in his power to make certain you are safe from imprisonment. I have rarely seen another man make the kind of sacrifice he has just made for you.”
Despite herself, Hazel’s words found their way around her walls. “What sacrifice are you speaking of?”
“He resigned his position with the Home Office,” Hazel revealed.
Felix had resigned? The news startled her, for he had always struck her as a man who took his responsibilities seriously. She did not think that part of him had been a deception. But still, she did not understand why Hazel would call his resignation a sacrifice made on her behalf.
“I fail to see how that is a concern of mine,” she said coolly.
“He told the Home Secretary that he had begun his own covert campaign, subverting the authority of the Home Office,” the duchess explained. “He said you were acting as his informant when you came here to England and that it was under his instruction that you smuggled the dynamite and correspondence in an effort to implicate your brother and aid the arrests of Fenians already here in London. He claimed the trunk you brought here was in his possession for the entirety of your stay in London, and that it was at his orders that you copied the contents of the packet of correspondence you had delivered at the Royal Aquarium. He surrendered the trunk over to the Home Secretary and the Special League, and then he stepped down from his post.”
Felix had lied for her.
He had shouldered the responsibility for all her actions.
But how could that be? Did she dare believe it was true? She had been manipulated and turned about in so many different directions, she scarcely knew who or what to believe at this juncture.
“How do you know all this?” she asked, her emotions suddenly at war.
Part of her wanted to believe it was true, that Felix had sacrificed himself, his position, and his honor to save her. Part of her railed that it could not be.
“My husband and the Duke of Westmorland accompanied him, and they vouched for what he said,” Hazel told her. “We all believe in your innocence, Johanna, and we want to see the true villain—your brother—brought to justice. You do not need to fear being imprisoned again. As long as you stay clear of all Fenians and your brother, Scotland Yard will not be able to touch you. Winchelsea saw to that.”
Johanna was frozen. She could not move, could not breathe. It was as if her feet had grown roots, and she would forever be planted on this precise patch of Aubusson on the floor of her Lark House guest chamber. That was how strong the shock was, washing over her. Surely if he had no feelings for her at all, he would never have gone to such lengths on her behalf.
His words to her returned, echoing through her mind, increasing the doubt.There is one thing I have never lied to you about, and that is loving you.Was that not what he had said? And what if,oh God, what if he had meant it?
What if the actions he had taken—all for her—were proof of his love?
Or a guilty mind, cautioned a voice within her.
Would a man sacrifice all out of guilt? Would Felix?
“Thank you,” she forced at last, past her numb lips. “I cannot thank you all enough for everything you have done for me. That your husband and the Duke of Westmorland would also vouch for my innocence…it is most humbling, Your Grace.”
“It is what Felix wanted,” Hazel said, “and please, do not revert to formality with me. We are friends now, you and I. I like you, Johanna. I know you are a kind woman with a good heart, and I know you will do what is right.”
“Thank you, Hazel,” she corrected herself, still in awe. She had been nothing but a burden to the Duke and Duchess of Arden, an invalid who had arrived at their door quite unexpectedly. And yet they had treated her as if she were family. “I am honored to call you friend.”
