A brief silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of rain hitting the window.
“She was right,” Norman added softly.
Kitty’s eyes dropped to the carpet. She looked tired. Not just from travel or the storm, but from heartache.
“I loved you,” she said at last, her voice raw. “I think I still do. But you made me feel... like I was disposable. Like the second you were hurt, I no longer mattered. That frightened me more than anything.”
Norman took a step closer, his boots squelching in the floorboards.
“You’re not disposable,” he said. “You are the only thing in this world that has ever made me believe I could be more than what I was taught to be.”
She looked up sharply.
The letter fluttered to the floor like it had never meant anything at all, but Norman knew better now. It did mean something. Everything. It was proof—real, physical proof—that she had told the truth, that Kitty had never betrayed him. But it didn’t ignite triumph in his chest. It only deepened the ache already carved there.
He didn’t need to read the blasted thing. He didn’t need the words of another woman to tell him what his gut had known, deep down, all along.
Kitty had been innocent. He’d been a fool.
His gaze had drifted to her hand resting lightly on the mantlepiece, slender fingers curled ever so slightly. He remembered that hand clenched in his shirt, the way she’d once looked at him like she saw the man beneath the titles, beneath the anger, the doubt. And he—he’d taken that trust and thrown it back in her face.
“I came because I can’t breathe without you,” he went on. “And I’m not ashamed to say it anymore.”
Kitty’s lips parted slightly, but she said nothing.
“I lost everything when I lost you,” he continued, slower now, because the words came raw. “And no, I don’t mean my pride or my damn reputation. I meanme. The man I was with you. The man I wanted to be.”
Her silence wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t cold. It was worse. It was careful. Hesitant.
God, what had he done to her?
Norman’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. Not from rage this time—not the kind he used to weaponize like a shield—but from the pressure building in his chest, a need to keep himself grounded. Because if he didn’t, he might just drop to his knees.
“I’ve always been so obsessed with doing what’s right, what’s proper, what’s expected. Upholding my family’s name. Pretending that somehow that would protect me. That if I followed the rules, I wouldn’t lose the people I love. But I did. I lost you.”
A bitter laugh slipped from him then, harsh and humorless.
“And the great irony of it all? You were the only one telling the truth. And I—” He shook his head, voice low and coarse. “I didn’t have the backbone to believe you.”
Her eyes glistened now, but she still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t said a single damn thing. That silence was cutting him open from the inside out, and maybe he deserved that.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he rasped. “I just need you to know. When you left, I... I couldn’t function. I went to Brown the next morning and told him I was pressing charges. I didn’t care anymore what it would cost me. I should have done it the moment you asked to help me. I should have done it because you trusted me.”
Kitty’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. He saw the way her lashes fluttered—a blink, maybe. A battle.
“And I want you to know... it’s done. He’s being charged. The evidence is irrefutable, and I don’t intend to back down again. It’s because of you. You gave me the strength. You gave me thetruth. You showed me who I could be. I simply... I was too much of a coward to be him then.”
He finally took a step closer, slowly, cautiously, like she might vanish if he moved too fast.
“But I’m not a coward anymore.”
Still nothing. They heard the clock ticking loudly from the drawing room. Outside, the carriage waited. Her life—the new one she’d planned for herself—was sitting right there, ready to take her away.
Away from him.
Norman dragged a hand down his face and exhaled hard through his nose, then met her gaze and held it, not caring how exposed he was, not caring that his shirt was damp or that his boots left muddy prints on the polished floor. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, Kitty. Stubborn. Cold. Arrogant. And I’ll own all of it. But I won’t let the last thing I am to you be ‘coward.’”
Her lower lip quivered, just barely.
