“You became Sebastian to finish his mission,” Charlie said over the lump in her throat.
The story made sense and fit everything she knew of the man in front of her. A fiercely loyal protector who would sacrifice himself for those he loved.
“That was how it began.” Jack’s voice was as gritty as sandpaper. “I went to the house party and delivered the note stained with Sebastian’s blood. Afterward, the spymaster convinced me that I was needed on his team. That it was my patriotic duty to fight the First Flame—the group that had murdered my friend. Given that the Marquess of Fayne had doors open to him that Jack Granger did not, my superior decided that I should become Sebastian permanently. As Sebastian was the last of his line, the title would die with him anyway. The plan was for me to borrow it instead.”
“What about Sebastian’s mama?” Charlie lifted her brows. “Did she agree to the plan?”
“That was a sticking point.” Jack’s features looked hewn from granite. “The dowager blamed me for her son’s death, and she wasn’t wrong. I should have gotten to Sebastian sooner?—”
“The First Flame killed Sebastian, not you.” She couldn’t allow him to shoulder a burden that was not his. “And Sebastian made the choice to become a spy, knowing the risks. He decided that—not you.”
Jack’s nod was somber.
“Anyway, my superior dealt with the dowager. He told her he would fund my expenses and not touch a penny of the Fayne fortune. He appealed to the dowager’s self-interest: with Fayne alive, she had continued use of the entailed properties, including the country seat where she lived, and access to the funds that came from entitlements. Accustomed as she was to a certain lifestyle, the dowager was loath to give it up. As long as she never saw me—and she never did because I lived abroad—she was content to let the fiction of her son live on.”
“That sounds terribly cold.” Charlie shivered. “Exchanging your child’s identity for money.”
“She did not live long to enjoy it. Her heart failed a year before you and I met.”
A sudden thought struck Charlie. She was stunned she hadn’t thought of it earlier, but she’d been too absorbed in Jack’s story, in the secrets he was finally revealing.
“Our marriage. Was it even valid?” she choked out. “You married me under false pretenses.”
“I wronged you, Lottie.”
Despite her own tumultuous state, she could see his anguish. It was impossible to miss the regret carved on his face, the hunching of his burly shoulders under the weight of guilt. He was tormented by what he’d done…but he had deceived her, made her an unwitting accomplice to his charade.
“How could you do this to me?” Her voice shook.
“I have no excuse for being a scoundrel.” He met her gaze squarely, and his smoldering self-revulsion twisted her insides. “When we met in Marseille, I was on an assignment. I was not supposed to meet the bravest, most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in an alleyway. I was not supposed to help her fight off assailants and learn that her guardian was even worse of a predator. Most of all, I was not supposed to fall in love and give her the protection of a name that wasn’t even mine.”
Her heart was pounding as if it wanted to escape its cage.
“But I did all of those things,” he acknowledged, his eyes burning. “And for the year we lived together, though it was the happiest time I’d ever known, the truth haunted me every moment. I wanted so badly to tell you who I was, but how could I? The Marquess of Fayne swept you off your feet, not some nobody named Jack Granger. Moreover, my superior, who was furious that I’d wed without his permission, made me swear that I would never reveal my real identity. At least this way, you had the protection of the Fayne title.”
“Which is all I had after you abandoned me,” she shot back.
“Do you want to know why I really left?” He shoved a hand through his hair so violently that she was surprised he didn’t tear it out by the roots. “To protect you, yes. But also because Iknew…I knew I wasn’t deserving of you. I knew I wasn’t good enough to be your husband and that you’d hate me if you found out who I was. I also knew that loving you made me the most selfish bastard alive. And do you know what?”
“What?”
Yet her retort was without heat. The flames of anger had been dampened by her newfound understanding of Jack. Of his past and why he might have made the choices he had.
“I do not regret it. As sorry as I am for everything else, I willneverregret loving you,” he said with sudden ferocity. “That is why I came back: to fight for another chance to be the man you deserve.”
His demeanor had an edge of belligerence, and she realized that she infinitely preferred it to his self-hatred. His chest surged powerfully, and so did hers. Their emotions whipped and crackled like an invisible storm. Standing there, in the center of it all, facing the man who’d made wrong decisions but who was there and would fight to be there with her, she was jolted by sudden clarity.
None of it mattered.
From the moment he had left, she’d been mired in the past. Because of resentment? Partly. A desire for answers? That too. But mostly because…
I love him, and I never stopped.
Despite all his faults, everything he’d done, she loved him. She had never gotten over him and never would. And he felt the same way—couldn’t bring himself to regret loving her, even when it had hurt him. Even when he’d punished himself, hated himself, for lying to her. Even when she’d acted cruelly, lashing out, taking out her fears and insecurities on him. Their love was not perfect or without problems. It might take the rest of their lives to sort out their troubles.
None of it matters.
Because they had the one thing that did matter.
