She had a point.
“Last night I saw a man. He…he looked like Sebastian,” Charlie admitted.
Amara stilled. “Sebastian, the Marquess of Fayne? Yourdead husband?”
“It sounds ridiculous, I know. It had to be an ungodly similarity. The man was masked, so I didn’t see his entire face. Only his jaw and his eyes…”
Eyes that had looked as startled as mine. Eyes that I’ve never forgotten.
“Did you interact with this man?”
Charlie shook her head. “I saw him in the reflection of a looking glass. From across the room. By the time I tried to look for him, he’d vanished.”
“A bizarre resemblance, then.” Amara lifted her brows. “Unless Fayne had a twin brother he neglected to mention?”
“While my late husband neglected to mention a great number of things”—Charlie did not bother to hide her sarcasm—“I know for a fact that he had no siblings. He was the last of his line. After he passed, the title and its entailed properties reverted to the Crown.”
Sebastian’s family tree was a sparse one. Charlie had never met any of his family; his papa had died when he was a child, his mama the year before he met Charlie. Perhaps this familial lack of longevity had led him to make arrangements for her in the event of his own untimely demise. In this regard, her husband had taken care of her generously. His will had stipulated that his considerable personal assets, which included a townhouse in London, were to go to her, free and clear. While he’d failed to make good on his promise of love, he had given her security and freedom.
Perhaps I got the better end of the bargain after all.
“It must have been a coincidence.” Amara sipped her tea, her astute gaze glinting over the porcelain rim. “Or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Perhaps in tracking down my demons last night, a few of your own were stirred?”
The insight hit an unwelcome nerve of truth. Charlie felt a spasm of anger—at Sebastian, who had the ability to make her act like a fool even from the grave. At herself, for giving him that power.
“It is only human, my dear, to have memories resurface in such a situation,” Amara said gently. “Do not blame yourself.”
“But I do.”
Charlie’s smile was bitter as she smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. Amara had designed the azure satin walking dress, the attention to detail evident in the glove-like fit of the bodice and exquisite fullness of the skirts. The dress was trimmed with lace handmade by Benedictine nuns, and the contrast of pristine white and vivid blue suddenly reminded Charlie of Greece.
Of those giddy newlywed days.
Of Sebastian leading her out onto the balcony of their villa for the first time. He’d insisted on covering her eyes, even as she’d laughingly told him she’d seen the view as they’d driven up the hill.
The best is still to come, my Lottie.
His husky voice had sent an anticipatory shiver up her spine. The beauty of the sunset had been eclipsed by that of her husband’s passion. He’d taken her there, against the railing of the balcony. As always, his lack of inhibition had unleashed her own wantonness. Gripping the stone balustrade, she’d pushed back on his driving cock, his pleasured growls filling her ear as they came together…
“Charlotte, dearest, forgive me. I did not mean to stir up a hornet’s nest.”
At her friend’s worried tone, Charlotte shoved aside the memories.
“I am a professional, Amara,” she said tightly. “I cannot—willnot—let my personal affairs affect my ability to carry out my duty as an investigator. That stranger distracted me from the case, but I promise you I will not allow it to happen again.”
“You have helped so many women, my dear. And not just your clients. You’ve been a tireless mentor to your Angels, teaching them the power of independence and giving them the skills and confidence to navigate the world however they wish.” Amara paused. “Yet sometimes I think you allow yourself to be trapped by that very notion of self-sufficiency.”
Charlie frowned. “Self-sufficiency is hardly a cage.”
“It is when it bars you from happiness.”
“I am perfectly happy.”
“Are you?” Amara tilted her head. “In our years of friendship, you’ve only spoken of one man with any seriousness. And he’s been deceased for twelve years.”
