But then she took his hands and kissed first one palm, then the other. “That you shared this with me means so much to me, Lucas. And perhaps having said these things out loud will give them less power.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said, and pushed to his feet. He walked to the edge of the fountain and watched the water endlessly fall. He understood that feeling. Forever falling, forever lost. He turned and found her watching him closely. “I think I owed you that secret. After all, you told me yours.”
Something in her face shifted. That guilt and pain he often saw in her returned. It reminded him therewasmore to her past than what she’d shared.
“You were right when you said that I haven’t been completely open with you,” she said.
He caught his breath and hated himself for pressuring her. “But I was unfair to accuse you of that. In the heat of the moment I said it, but I don’t think you owe me or anyoneanything, Diana.”
“Only I do,” she said softly. “And of course it would be today of all days that I would see it.”
“Today?” He tilted his head. “What is so special about today?”
“It is the day before tomorrow. And tomorrow means everything.” She sighed. “You had a long day, Lucas—do you think you’re up for a little trip?”
He blinked. “A trip?”
“Back to my cottage here in Town. I was going to make an excuse about needing herbs so I could return there tonight or tomorrow, but perhaps it is time for all the lies to be stripped away. Perhaps it’s time you really understand, as I now understand. If you want to, then I’ll ask that you come with me.”
He hesitated. From her expression, it was clear her secret was dire. Life altering. And if he knew it then they would both be laid bare. There would be nothing left as a wall between them.
And that was terrifying.
But the idea of knowing her,trulyknowing her, was also tempting. Temptation won.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I would be honored to return with you and to know whatever youwantto share.”
“Then let’s go now,” she said, and held out a trembling hand.
He took it, guiding her toward the house, guiding them both toward a future he feared and anticipated in equal measure.
Lucas had allowed there to be silence between them on the long ride across London back to her little cottage. Diana appreciated that deeply, for right now she could think of no words to say.
Enough had been said already.
She’d never intended to tell Lucas the full truth about her past. She’d never meant for anyone to know. But when he told her his secret, when he confessed it all out and asked for nothing in return, the last barrier she kept between them had melted. After all, this secret had brought her pain for so long. As she had suggested to him, perhaps speaking it out loud would take away the power of it.
The carriage stopped and Lucas helped her out. His hand was warm, comforting as he took her arm and guided her to the door. She opened it and they stepped inside.
Both of them drew a breath at once, and she glanced at him. He looked as pleased to be here as she felt. Back in this place where they had started. This place that was so separate from his world and whatever they would face there in the next few days and weeks.
“What can I do?” he asked. “Make a fire in the parlor? Help you get something from the study?”
She shook her head. “What I have to show you is not inside. We must go to the garden.”
He released her arm and motioned for her to lead him. She did so on shaking legs, with a throbbing heart that felt like it was loud enough for the neighborhood to hear.
She walked through the cold, dark back parlor and through the doors that led outside. The sun was warm on her face, but that felt like a slap when she considered what she was about to do. Say. Feel.
Lucas followed her silently as she maneuvered her way through her herb plantings and the few flowers scattered through the small outdoor space. Finally she reached the big oak tree in the back corner of the space, and she stopped and stared at what she saw there.
Two little markers, memorials for the dead. One was for her father and her mother. The other was small—tiny, really—like the person it represented. The life lost before it had even begun.
“Diana,” Lucas said softly.
She didn’t look at him, but kept her eyes on that tiny marker. “My mother’s name was Mira. I always loved the way my father said it. It could be a love poem or an admonishment or a prayer. When my baby was born so early, unable to take a breath, gone before I even got to hold her, I called her Mirabelle. At least in my head.”
Lucas’s fingers closed around her arm and she looked at him at last. He was pale and his lips trembled. “Your child.”
