A rush of heat crawled up her throat, and she dragged the little girl in tight, rocking her faintly. "I'll always come for you. If you believe nothing else, then believe that. I love you with all of my heart, Lou."
Louisa lifted her worried face. "What happened to mama? And papa? Mr. Cross wouldn't tell me."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, brushing the hair off her daughter's forehead. "There was nothing I could do for them when I found them. They had gone to Heaven, to live with the angels. I paid some men to have them both buried in the churchyard of St. Mary's—you know, the one with the roses that Elsa liked so much? And then I came looking for you."
The little girl rested her head on Ianthe's shoulder, looking like she was fresh out of tears. Those big blue eyes were red and swollen and brokenhearted. "What about Tubby?" she whispered.
Ianthe lay them both down on the bed, curling up beside her daughter. "He's safe. The O'Brien's are looking after him. Once this is all done, I'll take you home to fetch him." Reaching down, she pulled the gift from her pocket. "I do have something I've been keeping safe for you, however."
Louisa's eyes grew wide as she sighted the teddy bear. "Hilary!" she cried, and dragged the ragged bear to her chest as if it were the lifeline she so badly needed.
For the first time, Ianthe felt like she might not be so hopeless at this after all.
After Louisa fell asleep, Ianthe went looking for Lucien. Matters might be able to keep until morning, according to him, but she was certain she wouldn't sleep a wink. Not until she'd apologized.
She found him in the bathing chamber off his room and knocked lightly at the door. Lucien was shaving his jaw by the mirror, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his lean waist. Burns marked his back from the blast of sorcery earlier.
He paused.
"I know you don't want to speak to me just now," Ianthe said, shutting the door behind her, with a lump in her throat. "Just hear me out, please. I need to apologize.... for everything. For not telling you that you had a daughter, for not telling you... about the trouble I was in. I'm so sorry," she whispered, unable to look him in the eye anymore. "I didn't know what to do. I didn't know—"
"If I were ally or enemy."
She nodded, her shoulders slumping. Lou was safe. But there were consequences to pay now. Tears made her vision blur. What was she going to tell Drake? How could she ever atone for this?
"I don't blame you for drugging me, or for not trusting me. All of the foolish things I've been saying these past few days... Why would you not believe them—that I meant to take my revenge upon you?" With a sigh, he stared down into the basin of water, his hands resting on the vanity. "I never meant any of them, you realize?" Finally, he looked up, the lance of his amber gaze burning through her. "That was my pride speaking. I was angry at you for your part in my incarceration—" he held up his hand as she moved to speak "—an incarceration which was duly earned. You were only doing what you were asked to do by your superior, and I was a danger to society at that stage. But my recent anger was merely a shield, an attempt to protect myself. Every day, every hour, I find myself yearning toward you. And I didn't like it one bit."
There was simply nothing to say to that. Nothing at all.
Lucien dragged a towel over his face, patting his cheeks dry. "I also owe you an apology. I spoke rashly before in the hallway." His tone softened. "You did not deserve those words."
"I— What?" Of all the things she'd expected, this was not one of them. "I don't quite follow you."
Lucien raked his hands through his hair as he turned to survey the room. Each movement was brusque, like a caged bull suddenly released, aware of its close confines and trying desperately not to destroy all of the dainty furniture. "Yes, I'm angry. I won't deny that, but I have been thinking of what it would have been like for a young, unmarried woman of seventeen to find herself with child. From the little you've spoken of your father, I can't imagine he would have been pleased, and..." Lucien let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ianthe. You dealt as best you could with circumstances no young woman should ever have to deal with. I cannot judge you. I have no right to judge you. Please accept my humble apologies for my earlier words. I allowed my own feelings of abandonment, perhaps, to speak. It was wrong of me."
The entire world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Thank you." The words were but a whisper. The truth of it, however, blazed across her heart, pouring pure sunshine through her veins.
If she dared believe it...
"I keep thinking of my father," he admitted, sinking down onto the edge of the bath and folding his hands in his lap. He looked down, dark hair falling forward across his face. "Of how I have hated him for what he did to me. I blamed him for not being there, and I told myself he could have tried harder. If he'd wanted me, he could have used his power to take me from Lord Rathbourne and raise me as his own. The entire time I was in Bedlam, I felt like an animal, poked and prodded by its keepers, and shunned as mad. And he put me there! He put me there, Ianthe. What other proof did I need? I hated him. Or maybe... Maybe I hated myself? Because I felt, deep in my heart, that I wasn't good enough for him." His head bowed. "All I could think of was Louisa looking at me and feeling exactly how I felt—that her father didn't want her."
"No, no it's not like that. She would never feel like that." Ianthe stepped forward, into the vee of his thighs, one hand sinking into his hair. He pressed his face against her middle, clasping her roughly around the hips as he dragged her closer to him. "Drake tried to visit you once. In Bedlam. It was toward the start, but you... reacted poorly. It was decided that it would be best if he didn't visit again. At least, not until you were lucid."
The look in his eyes... as if she'd cut out his heart. And then realization began to dawn. "I remember."
"He wanted to explain to you why this was the best course of action. The Council—they had decided that you had already raised a demon once, which made you a risk. They wanted you executed. You will never know how hard he fought for you, Luc. And Louisa... She has a heart the size of the world. She will know the truth, because I will tell her. It was my fault, not yours."
Lucien linked fingers with her. "That doesn't sit quite right either."
Ianthe tipped her chin up. "I made my choices. This is my price to pay."
"Was she happy there?" he asked gruffly.
At least she could grant him that. "She was happy. She was loved. They were wonderful people."
"Were?"
