She nodded. “That ill-fated affair with Boyd Caldwell brought me more than just a sad story about innocence lost, you see.”
His jaw twitched. “Caldwell.Thatwas the spy your father brought here? The one who seduced you?”
“I assume you know him,” she whispered, her cheeks filling with heat.
His gaze darted away as he jerked out a nod. “I do. I…I know him, though not well.”
She glanced back at the memorials. “When I realized I was breeding, I tried to hide it. Eventually, I was forced to tell my father what had happened between us and how Boyd had abandoned me after he got what he…wanted. I have never seen him so enraged. I don’t know if he confronted Caldwell—we never spoke of him again. We came to London, where he could watch and help me while he worked. Until…until I started having pain. Too early, too soon. My father tried to help, but he couldn’t save her. He barely saved me. She is buried here, which is why I put a memorial marker for them beside her. So I could visit them together.”
She blinked and realized tears were streaming down her face. “Tomorrow will be one year since she died.”
He swayed slightly, and then to her surprise, he drew her in and held her tightly against his warm, broad chest. His hand came up into her hair, gently smoothing her locks. “I’m so sorry, Diana.”
She buckled then, the weight of the grief she had carried with her for a year hitting her all at once. He held her, keeping her upright and never speaking as she cried for the daughter she had never known, then for the mother who had also left far too soon and the father who had been snatched from her. She wept for them all until her chest stopped hurting and the tears faded to shudders and then stopped.
“Mirabelle is a beautiful name,” he said, drawing back to wipe tears from her cheeks before he handed over a handkerchief he withdrew from his jacket pocket.
She wiped her eyes and nose and nodded. “I sometimes wonder what she would have been like. Looked like.”
“Beautiful and accomplished like her mother,” he said with a smile. “There is no way she could not have been with you as her influence. I’m glad you have this place to visit with her.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure Father wanted to have it, honestly. He seemed to do it out of guilt rather than a desire to remember. He was forever encouraging me to let her go, forget her.”
Lucas flinched. “That isn’t very kind.”
“No, perhaps not. But he was a surgeon, of course. A doctor who saw death regularly. He could set it away. He expected me to do the same. He wasn’t much comfort…after.”
Lucas tucked her into his arms again and they looked at the markers together. “Then letmecomfort you. We can stay here tonight. I’ll have supper sent over—we can be here in this place where the case and the duties don’t matter. And tomorrow we can see her again, visit her and set some flowers here for her birthday.”
She glanced up at him, shocked by the kindness of his response to a child he didn’t know, hadn’t been his. But of course he would be. Despite his gruff beginnings with her, she had swiftly realized that while he might be complicated, he was not cruel. He was giving and caring, deeply passionate and highly attuned to those around him. Perhaps those things had been honed because he was a spy, but they hadn’t been born from his profession.
They were just…him. And that was why she loved him.
She jolted at that realization, which hit her in the heart and almost made her buckle with shock and pain and terror. She couldn’t deny it was true though. She did love him. She would always love him.
Even though there was so little time left for them now.
“I would like that,” she said, wrapping her arm around his waist and leaning into him. “If you are willing.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Whatever you need, Diana. Whatever you need and more.”
She smiled, but she knew then and realized she’d never be able to forget, that what she needed was the heart he wouldn’t give. And the future they couldn’t have.
Chapter Nineteen
It had been four days since Lucas and Diana had returned from her cottage, and he had noticed the changes in her. Although she still bustled and treated his wounds, she was quieter, reflective as she processed her grief. He was processing too. Both of them had confessed a great deal about themselves, so much so that he knew they were both feeling exposed.
In fact, she had exposed far more than perhaps she knew. When she’d told him that the name of her lover, the father of her child, was Boyd Caldwell, everything in him had frozen. One of the few things he recalled about the day he’d been attacked were his traitor’s guards walking past the hiding place, saying part of a name.
Cal—
He and Stalwood had pored over the first and last names within their ranks that could match. He knew Stalwood had reviewed each one, more than half a dozen, including Caldwell, himself, but they’d never come up with a solid connection.
Only now there was one. Caldwell had been close enough to Diana’s father that Oakford had let him into his home. Let him near his daughter. Diana thought they’d been investigating a case together.
Thoughts that had haunted Lucas ever since, thoughts that had begun to breed more and more suspicions about Caldwell. About Oakford, himself. He knew he would have to broach those thoughts with Stalwood sooner rather than later. But once he did…
Well, Diana might find out. If his suspicions proved true, they would very likely break her heart. He wasn’t ready to do that, especially since she’d shared so much.
