His hands clenched into fists.
“I was so angry. So humiliated. So devastated that she cared so little for our son. So I let her go. I stood there and watched her leave, knowing it wasn't safe. Knowing she could be hurt. And I did nothing.”
“Lucien,” Marianne breathed, stepping toward him.
He held up a hand.
“You know of the accident and that she died, of course. I've lived with that guilt ever since. Knowing I could've stopped her. That I should've stopped her. That my anger and pride cost her her life.”
“But that wasn't your fault,” she whispered.
“Perhaps not. I have come to accept this in my heart. But it does not alter what it wrought on me and my life. Our life,” Lucien continued, “I became certain I could never make any woman happy. That I was broken. That I'd never be enough. I never feltlike I was enough for anyone. Except my grandfather, and he's gone. And Mrs. Greaves, but she worships the ground I walk on, so she hardly counts.”
Despite everything, Marianne let out a small laugh. “That's true. You can do no wrong in Mrs. Greaves's eyes.”
A ghost of a smile crossed Lucien's face. “Not any more. Letting you go tarnished my reputation with her considerably.” He stepped toward her. “It's thanks to Mrs. Greaves and Sister Bernadette that I'm even here. Because I thought there was no chance we could ever be together again.”
“Why?” Marianne asked. “Because I left?”
“Because I treated you the way Arabella treated me,” he said, voice raw. “She rejected me. She made it clear she didn't want me. And I did the same to you. No—I did worse. Because Arabella never loved me. But I loved you. I love you. And I let you know that, then took it away. I hurt you over and over. I behaved terribly. And I couldn't let go of the guilt, the fear that I'd make you as miserable as I made Arabella.”
“You didn't make her miserable,” Marianne said. “She made herself miserable. She made choices. You can't carry the burden of her choices, Lucien. You were as trapped as she was.”
“I know that now,” he said. “Or I'm trying to. Trying to believe it.” He closed the distance between them. “I was wrong, Marianne. So terribly wrong. And if you can never forgive me, I'll understand. But I had to come. I had to tell you the truth. I hadto tell you I love you. That I've loved you, even when I was too much of a coward to admit it.”
Marianne looked up at him, tears pricking at her eyes. “I was wrong too,” she whispered. “I shouldn't have run away. I ought to have given you another chance when you came to find me at the ball. All I ever wanted was for you to tell me why you were so changeable and why you could not truly be with me. I didn't give you the chance. I was so hurt.”
“I hurt you,” Lucien said, reaching up to cup her face. “I hurt you terribly. And I'm so, so sorry. I miss you.”
“I missed you so much, too,” Marianne replied, her voice shaking. “But I can't live a life where I'm constantly rejected. Where I never know if you want me or not.”
“I know,” Lucien said. “I know. That was my life with Arabella. Constant rejection. Constant uncertainty. Never knowing where I stood. And I did that to you. I swear to you, Marianne, I'll never do it again. I've finally learned my lesson. I finally understand that I had happiness within my grasp, and I threw it away. And I'd understand if you hate me. If you never want to see me again.”
“I don't hate you,” Marianne said. “I could never hate you. I love you. I've always loved you.”
“Then come home,” Lucien pleaded. “Please. Come home. Be my wife. Be Henry's mother. Let us be the family we should've been from the start. I swear to you, Marianne, I'll spend every day forthe rest of my life proving you can trust me. That I'll never shut you out again. That I'll never let my past ruin our future.”
“And I'll never run away again,” Marianne said. “I'll stay. I'll fight for us. Even when it's hard.”
“Especially when it's hard,” Lucien agreed.
They stood there, looking at each other. Then Marianne said, “Do you remember when you told me I wasn't made for drawing rooms and balls?”
“I do,” he said with a smile. “It is one of the things that made me want to be with you.”
She smiled, but took a deep breath.
“I don't think I'm made for high society at all,” Marianne said. “I tried. But it isn't me.”
“I'm not made for it either,” Lucien said. “Never have been. We can live as we please, Marianne. The three of us. We can travel. See the world. Visit the ruins we've read about. Take Henry to see the Colosseum, the pyramids, and the temples of Greece. We can live the life we want, on our terms.”
“I'd like that,” Marianne whispered. “I'd like that very much.”
“Does that mean...” Lucien began, hope in his eyes.
“It means I forgive you,” Marianne said. “If you can forgive me.”
“You do not need my forgiveness, my love.” He pulled her into his arms.
