He should have told her the truth from the beginning. He’d been a coward, afraid of losing her respect, afraid she would walk away when she learned the full extent of his deception. Instead, his silence had left her vulnerable to Lockwood’s manipulation.
Moving swiftly, Lucien crossed to his desk and pulled out fresh paper. He needed help, and quickly. He wrote a note for Blackwood, asking to call on him as early as convenient tomorrow.
As he wrote, his mind kept returning to Courtney. She must be terrified, believing she faced this threat alone. Yet she’d maintained her composure, even canceling their dinner engagement and going along with Lockwood’s scheme.
Her strength humbled him. Her willingness to sacrifice herself for his family—for Ava-Marie—proved the depth of her character in ways words never could.
Something deep in his chest burst free and he almost dropped to his knees. Why was he fighting so hard? Why couldn’t he just have loved this woman? Told her what he was afraid of. Half his hesitation in opening his heart was because everyone expected him to love her because of their past and he had fought that. But his fight was for nothing. Because she had been claiming pieces of his heart from the day he’d called uponher. It was as if his heart knew she was his, even if he couldn’t remember.
Finishing his note to Blackstone, Lucien rang for Phillips. When the butler appeared, he handed him the sealed letter.
“Have this delivered to His Grace, Duke of Blackstone immediately, regardless of the hour. Then ready my horse. I’m going out.”
Phillips looked startled. “At this hour, my lord? It’s nearly midnight.”
“This can’t wait until morning,” Lucien replied, his decision made. He would not let Courtney face this alone for another moment. “And Phillips—send word to prepare my pistols. I may have need of them.”
As the butler hurried to comply, Lucien moved to the fireplace, staring into the dying embers. Mrs. Bellamy’s suggestion of murder had repulsed him, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction he’d feel in putting a bullet through Lockwood if necessary. Not for revenge, but for protection—of Courtney, of Ava-Marie, of his family’s future.
But first, he needed to see Courtney. To tell her he knew about Lockwood’s threat. To promise her she wasn’t alone in this fight. To finally confess the whole truth, not just about Ava-Marie’s birth, but about his feelings for Courtney herself—feelings that had grown from cautious attraction into something deeper.
As he prepared to ride through the midnight streets to her home, Lucien made himself a solemn vow: After tonight, there would be no more secrets between them. Whatever the cost, whatever the consequences, they would face them together.
And as for Lockwood—the baron would soon discover that threatening Lucien’s family was the gravest mistake of his miserable life.
Chapter Twenty
The midnight streetsof London held a sinister quality Lucien barely noticed as he rode through them, his mind consumed with thoughts of Courtney. A fine mist had begun to fall, enshrouding the gas lamps in halos of diffused light and dampening his cloak, but he barely felt the chill. His heart pounded with a mixture of rage at Lockwood, fear for Courtney, and the burning need to see her—to explain everything. What was she thinking about him, about them? Did she hate him for not telling her? Had he lost her trust?
When he reached Lorne House, he circled to the garden side. Lauren had told him which window belonged to Courtney’s bedchamber. A light still burned there, visible through the curtains—she was awake. Relief flooded through him, followed swiftly by determination.
Tethering his horse to a tree at the edge of the property, Lucien studied the ancient oak that grew beside the house, its branches stretching toward Courtney’s window. Once, years ago, he might have climbed it with practiced ease. Tonight, he would have to relearn the skill quickly.
The damp bark made his hands slip as he hauled himself up, finding footholds in the gnarled trunk. His muscles strained with the effort, but adrenaline drove him ever upward. A branch cracked beneath his boot, making him freeze momentarily, listening for any sign he’d been detected. Hearing nothing, hecontinued his ascent until he reached the branch that extended nearest to her window.
Perched precariously, he leaned forward and tapped gently on the glass. No response. He tapped again, slightly louder, then pressed his face close to the pane, trying to see through the gap in the curtains.
Suddenly, the curtains parted, and there she was—her auburn hair loose around her shoulders, her amber eyes widening in shock as she recognized him. She hastily unlatched the window.
“Lucien?” she whispered, her voice a mixture of disbelief and alarm as she pushed the window open. “What on earth are you doing? You could break your neck!”
“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice roughened by emotion. “Please, let me in.”
She didn’t hesitate, allowing him space to climb through the window. She stuck her head out and looked around before slamming the window sash closed.
He landed on her bedroom floor with less grace than he’d intended, then straightened, taking in her appearance. Her fine lawn night dress was almost transparent in the firelight, and with her hair tumbling loose and her face pale with worry, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, though she made no move to call for help. “If anyone discovers you—”
“I know about Lockwood,” he interrupted, watching her face closely. “I know what he’s threatening to do. What he’s asking of you.”
Her face drained of color. “How did you—”
“Mrs. Bellamy came to see me tonight. She owns the establishment where Lockwood learned about Ava.”
Courtney sank onto the edge of her bed, her knees seemingly unable to support her. “Then you know everything,” she whispered.
“Everything Lockwood knows,” Lucien confirmed, moving to kneel before her. “But not everything I should have told you myself long ago.” He took her hands in his, finding them cold and trembling. “Courtney, I am so sorry.”
