Please preserve Char-char.
Please let her be safe.
Please, God, do not let anything have happened to her…
“Here it is,” he told Stone as they stopped before the familiar, closed door.
It had been freshly decorated, its walls recovered in anticipation of its new occupant.
“I will enter first,” Stone said, the command in his voice not allowing for opposition.
He knew what the Chief Inspector’s intent was, to spare Pippa the potential pain of whatever awaited them on the other side of that door. So he nodded and held his wife and his breath both as Stone opened the door and stepped over the threshold.
“Where Mama?” Char-char’s voice emerged almost instantly.
A second wave of relief hit Roland as Stone looked back to send him a rare smile. “The child is unharmed.”
“Oh thank heavens!” Pippa cried out, racing past Stone and into the nursery.
Roland followed. Within, Charlotte was accompanied by a pale-looking Rawlings as she threw herself into her mother’s arms.
“Mama!”
“Your Graces,” Rawlings said, dipping into a curtsy, her countenance turning relieved. “You are unharmed? I heard a loud bang, and one of the footmen came to tell me there were Scotland Yard detectives storming the house, that I was to remain here with Miss Charlotte.”
“We are wonderful,” Pippa said, hugging her daughter tightly. “Neither of you have been hurt?”
“No, madam,” Rawlings reassured her.
Roland watched Pippa and Charlotte embracing, his heart overflowing with love and relief. They were safe. The danger was over. Croydon and her despicable son would rot in prison where they belonged.
“Will you excuse us for a moment, Rawlings?” Pippa asked. “Chief Inspector Stone?”
“Of course,” said the maid and the detective in unison.
One curtseyed. The other bowed. And then they were gone, leaving Roland, Pippa, and Char-char alone in the nursery.
“Papa,” Pippa said, extending an arm to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Come.”
Papa.
It was a title he had never imagined he would aspire to.
And now, it was the only title he would ever wear with pride.
He went, encircling Pippa and Char-char in his arms, holding them both tight.
“Papa,” Char-char repeated, wrapping a small arm around his neck and embracing him and Pippa at once.
“Yes,” he said through a throat gone thick and tight with emotion. “Papa loves you, Char-char. And he loves Mama too.”
“It is truly over now, isn’t it?” Pippa asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.
An answering trail of wetness streaked down his face. “It is indeed truly over, and the both of you are safe, and I am the most fortunate man in the world.”
“No, my love,” Pippa corrected gently. “We are the most fortunate. Is that not right, poppet?”
“Right!” Charlotte exclaimed.
