Jasper would not remain in the dark for long. He was likely trying to reach the manor now, intending to send funds for as long as he believed he had the right to exile his innocent wife there. But when he received no response, he would soon learn that Greystone Hollow had been emptied. Its staff—save for the elderly butler, who had chosen to retire near his grandchildren—had relocated to Bramblewick to serve the Browning household. Jasper had provided enough funds to maintain the estate through the spring, but the house had been abandoned only a few months after Abigail's arrival. The butler had left with a tidy sum, having been given the remaining funds. Now, the house stood silent, forsaken.
Abigail was safe now. She was surrounded by people who loved her, who would never leave her. That was all that mattered, Grace reminded herself again and again, as she watched her daughter sit in the sun, her hands resting over the small swell of life yet to come.
Chapter 19
Jasper's mind was heavy with frustration and fatigue. As he sat in the grand drawing room of his London townhouse, his gaze drifted toward the window, his thoughts circling back to the confrontation with Philip—and especially with Sophia. Her words had cut deeper than he cared to admit."It must be hard, having such a mean-spirited sister. Charlotte didn't get what she wanted, so she pressed Philip's hand and lied to try to force the outcome she desired."The accusation had lingered like smoke—bitter and suffocating. Jasper had questioned Charlotte before, had wondered if she'd exaggerated Philip's attentions, perhaps even his promises. But to fabricate a scandal? To pretend she'd been ruined, lost a child, and no longer wished to live? That had always seemed too dark, too cruel, even for Charlotte. He was growing weary of the polished lie Philip's family paraded as truth—tired of how effortlessly they wielded it, as if repetition alone made it so.
It was then that Jasper made a decision. He needed to be reminded of The Browning family's cruelty and why he had banished Abigail to Greystone Hollow to double down on his righteous belief that he had the right to punish Abigail for her brother Philips crime. He also had to speak with his sister about her future and her hopeful Betrothment to the Viscount of Braxton.
He left London that very evening, heading to the country home where Charlotte had been staying. The place felt distant from the world he had been navigating, but it was a necessary pilgrimage, a painful reminder of why he had chosen this path for her. As he rode toward the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. His sister's sulks and tantrums in the last few weeks had been signs that she was growing increasingly frustrated with her restricted life, but he knew it was for her own good
At her Great Aunts estate, Charlotte paced the length of her room, her fury simmering beneath her fine slippers. The London season—an opportunity to cross paths with Philip, even though he had married Sophia—was slipping through her fingers. She longed to show him what he had passed over. But Jasper had kept her sequestered here, far from the glittering social whirl, and no amount of pleading or theatrics had swayed him. She was trapped in this countryside prison, and with every passing day, her desperation only deepened.
Then she heard Jasper's voice drifting up from downstairs, followed by the low murmur of conversation and the rustle of papers. She imagined him in the study, calmly organizing documents, as though the world weren’t crumbling around her. That, more than anything, infuriated her. Her world was collapsing, and he was sorting correspondence? The thought was unbearable. She burst from her room and stormed into the study, her cheeks flushed, fists clenched at her sides. Jasper stood with his back to her, flipping through a stack of papers.
"You didn't do a good enough job, did you?" she spat, her voice high and trembling. "You couldn't get Philip to marry me! You let Sophia win, and now she's in London with him, while I'm stuck here like some discarded doll!"
Jasper stiffened. He turned slowly, his expression tight with restraint. "Charlotte, calm yourself," he said sharply. "It's not as simple as you believe. I've arranged something better for you."
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Better?Better?" she shrieked. "What could possibly be better than being Philip's wife? If you truly cared about me, you'd have made it happen—youshouldhave made it happen! Instead, you let that manipulative woman take what should have been mine!"
His gaze hardened. "Perhaps. But an arranged marriage to a respectable widower with two children is now the most suitable path. He's a man of means and position. You need to move on, Charlotte. Philip is no longer an option."
Charlotte recoiled as though struck. "No!" she screamed. "I won't marry some old man just becauseyousay so! I won't be bartered off like a spare horse!"
Her voice cracked with rage. "You're a failure, Jasper. Even with your precious title. You had every right to force Philip to marry me—my lie should've worked! It was airtight! I said he compromised me—gentlemen marry women of our lineage when that happens. But you couldn't do it. You couldn'tfix it!"
She collapsed into the nearest chair, trembling. Tears spilled freely as she buried her face in her hands, sobbing. The fury that had fueled her moments ago now crumbled beneath the weight of a long-held secret.
Through her tears, Charlotte's voice broke again, softer this time—almost childlike. "You always gave me everything I wanted growing up... but you couldn't give me this?"
She didn't even realize what she had confessed until the silence stretched between them—brittle, damning.
Jasper stood frozen, her words echoing in the stillness like a blow.
"Charlotte," he said at last, his voice low and stunned. "What are you saying?"
"I... I lied," she choked out, gripping her skirts like a lifeline. "I wasn't compromised. Philip... he never cared about me. He never even looked at me that way. I made it all up—to make you force him to marry me. I thought if you believed it—especially after I said I lost the babe—you'd fix everything. You always did."
She sank further into the chair, her breath ragged. "But he never wanted me. And there was never going to be a scandal... I only ever repeated the lie to you. No one else knew. I just—I just wanted the life I envisioned. That's not a crime, is it? I wanted Philip. Ihave alwayswanted Philip. Why did he have to choose Sophia?"
Jasper stood motionless, too stunned to speak. His sister's voice had turned to a low mutter as she rambled, barely aware of his presence. She repeated that Philip was supposed to be hers, that she deserved him. He even heard her whisper that he should have beengrateful—that a duke's sister had wanted him enough to lie. That he should have been flattered.
Something shattered inside Jasper. The betrayal she had woven, the deceit she had fed him—it had all been a lie. A dangerous, obsessive lie.
And in that moment, he saw her not as his little sister, not as the girl he'd always protected, but as a stranger. A broken, unwell young woman whose desperation had driven her far beyond reason.
Jasper's mind was spinning. How had he not seen it? How had he been so blinded by duty to his sister that he hadn't noticed the subtle cracks in her story? He needed answers, and fast. There was only one place to get them.
The journey to Philip and Sophia's townhome felt interminable. As the carriage eventually drew to a standstill, he alighted, his thoughts precise, his focus unyielding. He strode towards the door, offering his name to the doorman. The man's countenance betrayed nothing as he asked Jasper to wait,pointing a finger at the doorstep. He excused himself briefly, closing the door on Jasper, to announce the arrival. When he returned, his response was firm.
"I'm afraid you're not permitted to enter," the doorman said politely, but with unmistakable finality. "Lord Philip instructed us to honor your own request. You said,'I want nothing to do with either of you for the duration of this season. No letters. No pleasantries. No acknowledgment of any kind.'"
Jasper's jaw tightened as the words echoed back at him—his own, now used to bar him from the door. He had been denied entry not by Philip's defiance, but by his own bitterness. For a moment, he stood frozen, fury simmering just beneath the surface. Then, with a curt nod and a clenched jaw, he turned away, the weight of his pride pressing heavier with every step.
Without a plan, but driven by a deep, unshakable urge, he decided to head to Greystone Hollow. What was he hoping for? A part of him wished Abigail might greet him with such warmth that she'd forget everything that had happened. Could it be possible to find solace in her arms, to erase the bitterness that had consumed him for so long?
His thoughts spun in chaotic circles, no clear answers in sight. He had spent so long turning his love for Abigail into resentment, convincing himself it was easier to hate than to forgive. But the truth — the one he couldn't shake — was that he still loved her with every fiber of his being.
