How many sins would he have to atone for? He was afraid of the answer.
"My lord?" Simon's voice broke softly through the fog.
Jasper cleared his throat, his voice raw. "You're certain? The child's name is Emmeline?"
"Yes, my lord. The Duke introduced her as his granddaughter, Emmeline."
Jasper closed his eyes.
Emmeline.Their daughter.
Abigail had named her without him. He hadn't even been there to help choose a name.
Later, Jasper left the tavern. His carriage waited, and the ride back to the small manor he had leased passed in silence. The house was modest but well-kept, a temporary home with solid walls and no warmth. When he entered, the scent of lavender told him his manservant had already prepared a bath.
He dismissed the servant with a nod and bathed alone, the heat loosening muscles that had been tight for days—but doing nothing to ease the knot in his chest.
In the morning, he would write to the Duke.
Nathaniel had said there would be time to talk—but not yet. Jasper would respect that.
Still, he would not mention Emmeline in the letter. He would wait for their meeting to discover the truth of what he had heard.
Instead, he would request a formal meeting—soon—and reiterate the address of the home he had leased, in case they wished to reach him and had misplaced the paper he had scrawled the address on before he left Bramblewick Estate.
He dried off and dressed, then lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling.
How must she have felt,he wondered,discovering she was carrying the child of a husband who left her the day after their wedding?
His chest ached at the thought.
He could picture it—her fear, her resolve, the quiet strength she had always carried in her eyes. Strength he hadn't understood until it was too late.
He had left her to face it all. And now, a child bore his name and his absence.
"Emmeline."
He whispered the name once in the dark, tasting it like a secret — something sacred, fragile, and almost too precious to believe.
He told himself not to get his hopes up. Not to imagine the child's eyes, or whether they might reflect her mother's gentle spirit...
And still, he did.
He turned onto his side, eyes open in the dark, and tried not to picture the face of the daughter he'd never known.
Tried — and failed.
Chapter 27
The door closed with a soft click that echoed like thunder in Nathaniel's ears.
He stood motionless, listening to the emptiness Jasper Finch had left behind, until his knees finally gave way. He sank into the chair behind his desk, shoulders slumping.
Jasper's words circled in his mind—confessions laced with guilt, twisted justifications, and the hollow sound of a man who knew he had ruined something irreplaceable. Nathaniel pressed a hand to his brow. How could he tell Grace? And Abigail? What words could possibly make this right?
There had never been secrets between him and his wife. Not ever. And this—this was not something to hide. But to tell her that the man who had all but destroyed their daughter had stood in this very study, under the same roof as she and Abigail... it would shake her.
A knock broke the stillness. Philip entered; his expression composed but taut.
