"You hunted Skinner down… for me?" Marianne said.
Ambrose jerked his chin. "You don't have to worry about him any longer. Now to catch Coyner, we must act—"
"Ambrose, can you ever forgive me?" He was startled to hear the hitch in her words, to see the sheen of moisture upon her cheeks. Her gaze lowered to his chest, she said, "I—I've treated you monstrously. I've been horrid to you when I should have trusted you. When all you've ever done is help me."
"No, sweetheart," he said thickly, cupping her cheek with his good hand, "I should have told you the truth from the start. That I'd been hired by Bow Street to follow you."
"Why didn't you?" she whispered.
"When I took on the assignment, I didn't know the suspect would be you. After our first time together, I went to resign, but Coyner put an end to the assignment on his own. He swore me to confidentiality, said he'd see to it that I'd never work again if I spoke of the case to anyone."
"I understand. You needed your livelihood to take care of your family. They come first and well they should," she said tremulously.
He let out a breath. "That was only part of the reason—and a smaller part than I'd like to admit. In truth, I didn't tell you because... I was a coward."
Her brow pleated.
"I wanted to tell you about Bow Street. But I feared you'd shut me out." Shaking his head at his own folly, he said, "I wanted to protect you, to help you find Primrose, and I knew that you wouldn't trust me to do so if you learned the truth."
"Because I blew up at you?" she said, biting her lip. "For questioning Leach's clerk without telling me?"
"And because you told me how you'd been betrayed in the past. How could I expect you to trust me after all that you'd been through?" He drew another breath. "I told myself that one deception did not matter because I'd cut my ties to Bow Street and would keep you safe from that moment on. But a lie is a lie. And I beg your forgiveness, Marianne."
"I forgive you," she said quietly, "if only because my sins are far greater than yours. I should not have reacted so foolishly—going to Coyner when I should have gone to ask you directly."
"You're not to blame. If I'd told you the truth, you'd have had no cause to seek out that blackguard. He's played us all."
"What excuse did he give for having me followed?"
"Coyner claimed that an anonymous client had retained Bow Street to monitor a suspected anarchist. In truth, there was no client—Coyner had fabricated the whole story."
"Why?" Marianne whispered.
"I think he wanted to keep tabs on you. To have information that could be used to ruin your character, discredit any accusations you might level against him if you discovered his identity. I also think he meant to have you framed for Leach's murder and thus to rid himself of two problems at once."
"Did you believe him... that I was an anarchist? I suppose given my actions, after I shot you and you found me at Leach's..." Her gaze fell to his chest.
"After I got to know you, I knew you were no anarchist," he said.
"How can you say that? I've done such wicked things." Her throat rippled. "I've had a daughter out of wedlock, degraded myself, and committed deeds no decent woman would do."
"Always out of love." With his thumb, he edged away the tears tracking silently down her face. "Marianne, you are the bravest woman I know. You've survived, through your cleverness and wit and pure strength of will. How can I but admire you and your devotion to your daughter?"
"I don't deserve that you should be so good to me," she said, cradling his hand against her damp cheek. The expression in her eyes was so penitent and tender that his breath left him. "You are too fine a man for me, Ambrose."
"'Tis the opposite that's true. Marianne, I—"
He was cut off by voices and what sounded like a stampede from the hallway. A moment later, the door flung open, and his family flooded the chamber.
"Ambrose!" Polly dashed toward him first, and Marianne stepped aside to let her through.
"Mind you don't jolt his wound, Polly," Emma chided, following close behind.
"I am fine," Ambrose assured her.
Rising on her toes, Polly brushed a careful kiss against his cheek. "I was so scared for you," she confessed. "Lugo said you'd been shot and—"
"How are you feeling?" Violet said, trying to peer from behind the other two. "Do you need anything? We packed some food—"
