Kenna’s harsh sobs led Rhys to her side. She felt his arms circle her and she clung to him tightly, weeping with shock, bitterness, and finally thankfulness for the security of his embrace.
Epilogue
“Goodnight, Nick.” Kenna touched his uninjured shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and kissed his cheek. His tender smile warmed her heart. In the six days since Victorine’s funeral she had despaired of seeing her brother smile again. He seemed haunted by the discovery of Victorine’s betrayal, as if he believed it had been in his power to make things different. He blamed himself for not providing protection for Kenna and for not recognizing Victorine’s perfidy. He despised himself for the youthful passion he had once felt for Victorine. Kenna felt helpless in the face of Nick’s decision to accept responsibility for all that had happened. That neither she nor Rhys blamed him for anything did not seem to matter.
Nick laid his hand over Kenna’s. “I dearly love you, sprite,” he said. “I’m going to miss you and Rhys.”
“We could stay longer,” she offered quickly. They were due to leave in the morning but she knew Rhys would not object.
He shook his head and released her hand. “No. You both need to return to Boston. The only reason you would stay here is for me and I am going to be fine.”
“You’ll visit us?”
“I promise,” he assured her. He pointed to the clock. “Your husband is no doubt pacing the floor, wondering what’s kept you. You’d better go, Kenna.”
Realizing he was politely saying he wanted to be alone, she shut the study door quietly behind her, leaving Nick to his own thoughts. When Kenna reached the bedchamber the first thing she noticed was that Rhys was not pacing the floor. He looked very comfortable in bed, his back propped against several plump pillows, reading the London paper. He was hungry for all the available news on Wellington’s defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo but he put aside the paper when Kenna came over to the bed.
He patted a spot beside him, gesturing her to sit down. “You were a long time with Nick this evening. How is he?”
“Better, I think. Do you know what he said tonight?”
“What?”
“He said he envied us. He wants a wife, a family. I think that’s good, don’t you?”
“Very.”
Kenna nodded. “Will you unfasten this dress?”
“Certainly.” His fingers nimbly undid the tiny hooks.
Kenna slid off the bed and began to undress. “Do you know,” she asked, her voice muffled as she pulled her gown over her head, “I’ve been wondering about something Nick said a long time ago. He said that he was with Victorine when Father was murdered. But he wasn’t. Why did he tell everyone he was?”
“Why didn’t you ask him?”
“I couldn’t. I was afraid he might think I was accusing him of something.” Kenna laid her gown aside and stripped off her undergarments, completely unaware of the attractive picture she made as she danced about on the cool floor, looking for her nightgown.
“Forget your nightgown,” Rhys said huskily. Kenna needed no further encouragement, she slipped between the covers that Rhys held open for her and snuggled beside him. He wasn’t wearing anything either. “So why do you think he said it?” she asked.
“Oh, we’re still speaking of Nick, I take it.”
“Yes.”
“Pity.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “I believe Nick thought he was telling the truth about that night. Everything was so confusing. There were only a few of us who knew the exact time of Robert’s death. If you recall, I thought I saw Nick and Victorine in the garden. He really was with Victorine a short time later when she left Mason and ran to get him and told him I wanted him at the cave. He was simply mistaken about the time everything happened.”
That explanation more than satisfied Kenna. “Poor Victorine,” she said after a moment. “Mason used her vilely for his own ends, baiting her with news about her husband when all the time the comte was dead. I cannot hate her; I feel so sorry for her.”
“Then you believe it was an accident that she killed your father.”
“Yes, don’t you?”
Rhys was not so certain. Victorine had shot Tom Allen, then found the resolve to brutally strangle the injured man. She had arranged accident after accident to protect herself against the power of Kenna’s returning memory. Simple luck had prevented Victorine from suspicion on a number of occasions. Nick’s confusion and innocence had protected her the night of the masque. Nick again, accidentally bumping into Rhys when he carried the broth, and Janet’s own suspicion that Monsieur Raillier was responsible for the poisoning, carried Victorine safely through another dilemma. But it was truly Robert Dunne’s own trust in Victorine that kept her safe, because Kenna could not believe her father would seek to protect his wife if he did not truly think she was innocent. Lord Dunne’s judgment became his daughter’s until Kenna learned of the betrayal from Victorine’s own lips.
Rhys thought this all, but he said, “Yes, it was probably an accident. She said she had come to care for Robert. And you know, in the end, she proved her love for you. She went to the cave with no other thought in mind than to kill Mason and bring you and Nick out safely. Nick even said that Victorine begged him not to take the ransom himself.”
“And she saved your life,” she said softly. Even now it was hard to imagine how Victorine had sensed Mason moving in the pitch-black cave and gave her life to stop him.
Rhys pressed a kiss to Kenna’s soft temple. Beneath the sheet his hand touched her thigh where Mason had stabbed her. He ran his finger lightly over the tender scar. “I’m very happy that you chose not to tell Yvonne everything.”
