Her expression was stricken. “What are you not telling me?”
Always so intelligent. She somehow knew him better than he knew himself.
He swallowed hard. “Reinald is gone now, and with Gustavson in power, my sisters are in danger. I’m in danger. Deus, you could be in danger, by mere virtue of knowing me. My uncle is aware that I’m in London; it was how my sister was able to find me here. She told me the state Boritania is in, told me of how Gustavson is pillaging the land and the people. If I don’t return, my sisters may meet with the same fate as our mother and brother.”
“Return?” she repeated, aghast. “But you’ve said that you will be killed if you do so.”
He nodded, feeling as he had all those days he had spent in the dungeon, meeting his daily dose of torture. Mortal. So very mortal. The proud prince who had dedicated himself to hedonism at court brought low and made to face the undeniable fact that he was every bit as human, every bit as capable of facing death, as all his subjects.
“Stasia is willing to renounce my exile. In the old laws, anyone of royal blood can do so,” he explained.
“But your uncle. Will he not kill you himself, or have you arrested and thrown into his dungeon again?”
He held her stare, willing her not to loathe him for what he had to do. “I haven’t a choice, my love. I must return and face him, and hopefully vanquish him when I do. If not…” Theo paused, for they both knew what it would mean if he failed. It would mean certain death. “If not, I will have tried. I’m duty-bound to do so, for my kingdom and my sisters, and to avenge my mother.”
Her cheeks were wet, but not from the rain. It was tears.
And how he hated being the source of her sadness. Loathed himself for being the reason for the sobs wracking her body.
“I’m going to miss you so very much,” she said with gut-wrenching finality. “Every moment of every day.”
There was nothing else to say, so Theo gathered her into his arms and held her tightly as the rain lashed them both.
CHAPTER18
Pamela stared at the fan which had been left in her chamber on the table by her bed, opening it so that the scene which had been painted on it was visible.
It was the same fan she had been admiring earlier that day when she had taken Virtue shopping in a desperate bid to distract herself from the fact that she was in love with an exiled prince who was planning to return to his country and almost certain death.
She hadn’t purchased the fan. But he had been watching, for he had accompanied them on their trip. And he had bought it for her. She knew it without question, just as she knew that he had stolen into her room to leave her the offering. Just as she knew he would soon be leaving her.
There wasn’t much time, he had explained. His sister Stasia’s betrothal would be announced, and they had to act before then. But his uncle’s guards were watching Stasia and Theo both. When he chose to leave, it would be without warning. In the night. He refused to divulge any more of his plans to her, for fear that she would be used as a pawn by his uncle.
And so, they spent their days as strangers and their nights as lovers. By day, he was the stony-faced, cold-eyed guard who watched over Hunt House. By night, he was the tender lover who brought passion and love into her heart again. And one day soon, he would simply be a memory.
He would be gone.
And she would be alone again.
She closed the fan and replaced it on the table with a trembling hand. Was this his parting gift, then? Was the fan a sign that he was preparing to go? She had to know, though she was meant to be dressing for the Torrington ball. Pamela, Virtue, and Ridgely would be in attendance, and it would be the first time Virtue and her brother appeared together as husband and wife. They were hoping to blunt the sting of the gossip surrounding their hasty nuptials.
And the very last thing Pamela wanted to do was attend it.
But she loved her brother, and she loved Virtue, and she would do it for them. She would pin a smile to her lips and carry the fan Theo had given her, and she would pretend as if her world was not about to fall apart. Over the last four years, she had grown desperately good at pretending. And now, it was a skill she would require again.
Pamela ventured from her chamber in search of him.
It didn’t take long. He was in the hall outside the library. Holding his gaze, she slipped inside the large, two-story chamber with its wall of books. Theo followed her inside, latching the door behind him.
She shot across the carpets as if she were a cannonball and launched herself at him. He caught her, arms banding around her waist, and buried his face in her throat.
Pamela felt the sting of tears in her eyes and she did her best to keep them at bay. He was all warm, solid strength, his familiar, beloved scent of citrus and clean soap teasing her senses. He felt so vital, so very alive.
Hers.
“Thank you for the fan,” she murmured into his hair, so silken and dark and soft she couldn’t help but to rub her cheek over it.
“A small gift.” His lips moved against her throat as he spoke. “Hardly what I wish to give you.”
