I clung to him, feeling his heart beating hard against my cheek, drinking in the scent of his cologne, the feel of his arms around me, and the bittersweet pleasure that coursed through me at hearing that he loved me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair, his voice breaking.“You’re right—you’ve never hurt me, and I’ve done nothing but push you away.” He pulled back and put his hands on either side of my face, wiping my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m not worthy of your love, but I cherish it, more than you’ll ever know.”
I placed my hands on his chest and rose on my toes, lifting my face toward his. “Kiss me, Austen,” I whispered.
He didn’t hesitate and lowered his face to meet mine, capturing my lips with his, covering me with his love. This time, it was not a façade. We had no one to convince that our passion and desire for one another was real.
Pleasure washed over me in warm waves as his kiss deepened, and I offered my heart to his. Tears of joy and sorrow trailed down my cheeks, wetting his hands, until he pulled back.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered as he took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped my cheeks. “There is no greater pain in this world than knowing that you suffer. I can endure anything but that. I want you to be happy, Kate. And even if that means that you will leave and I’ll have to bear more pain, I will endure it. But please, tell me that you’ll be happy in 1938.”
I knew what he was asking. We both understood that I had no choice. I had to save Mary. But he could endure it if he knew I would be happy.
I would pretend. For his sake. “I’ll be happy, Austen,” I whispered, the lie sticking in my throat.
He placed his forehead against mine and nodded. “That’s all I desire.”
“Must you go to Scotland?”
“I won’t be gone longer than a fortnight. I have work to do, and it cannot wait. Believe me, I don’t want to be separated from you for a day longer than necessary.” He took my hand and led me back to the leather chair. I took a seat, and he sat in the chair next to me but didn’t let go of my hand. “I want to tell you about my parents.”
I’d almost forgotten about our earlier conversation, but I nodded now, encouraging him to continue.
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I hope I don’t regret this, Kate.”
“Your secrets are safe with me.”
“That’s the problem. These secrets aren’t safe with anyone.” He looked down at my hand and ran his thumb over each finger before he said, “After my parents died, my mother’s sister came from New York to oversee my welfare.”
“Yes, I know.”
“She sent me to Eton, and the first week I was there, I was visited by a guest.” He lifted his troubled gaze to mine. “It was Sir Charles Warren.”
I blinked several times. “He went to see you?”
“Yes. He told me he was sorry about my loss but asked if I knew anything about my father’s work with the Freemasons, or why my parents had been with him in Jerusalem. I told him that I knew nothing, which was true at the time. He became very serious and told me that if I ever found any important papers in my father’s collection, anything that had to do with the Freemasons or his trip to Jerusalem, I was supposed to contact Sir Warren immediately—and not tell another soul. Not even my aunt. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and told me that my parents had died heroically, protecting the Brotherhood of Freemasons. He also said that if my father hadn’t done what he did, the entire fraternity would have been put in grave danger. I had lost my parents, but their sacrifice had ensured that thousands of other lives were spared. He wanted me to know that when I was ready, I would have a place among the Grand Lodge of Freemasons in London.”
I frowned. “What did your father do that was so heroic?”
“I don’t know. At least, I didn’t know. Not then.” He scooted forward on his chair, getting closer to me. “Miles isn’t just my coachman. I met him at Eton, and we became friends when we realized that our lives were mixed up with the Freemasons. His father murdered his mother—right before his eyes—but his father was never put on trial because he’s a Freemason, and he was spared imprisonment by a Freemason judge and investigator. They’reeverywhere, and if you’re not for them, then you’re against them, and your life is meaningless to them.”
I nodded, trying to grasp everything he was saying.
“I’ve investigated my parents’ death. I even went to Israel,” he continued, “but the Freemasons have done an incredible job covering it up. All I can say for certain is that Sir Warren took several trips to Jerusalem, searching for something important in the Temple Mount. He made maps and excavated countless shafts into the core of the mount. On his trip there with my parents and yours in 1874, they finally found what they were looking for—but my parents died protecting it, and the others brought it back to London.
“What it was, and what happened to it after that, is buried safe within the secrecy of the Brotherhood. I’ve spent years searching for answers, and I’ve created many enemies because of it. Men like Michael Maybrick, who suspects my motives.” He looked deep into my eyes. “You cannot let anyone know that you’re aware of the purpose of that trip to Jerusalem. Not even your parents must know that you know.”
“I won’t breathe a word,” I promised. “But what was it that they found? What could be so important that your parents died protecting it and other people’s lives are at risk knowing about it?”
“I don’t know, but I suspect that whatever it is, it would uncover the truth behind the Freemasons’ power and would have a catastrophic impact on their existence, thereby impacting the English royal crown and who knows how many other countries. It might even cause wars.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “That sounds very serious.”
“More serious than you can imagine. I’m only telling you this because I’m tired of hurting you, Kate. When you left today, and I knew it was within my power to share this information with you, I had to make a choice. You’re an intelligent woman, and I trust that you’ll keep this information safe. You might be impetuous and headstrong”—he smiled as he touched my cheek—“but you’re not foolish. Please promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise, Austen.”
“Good.” He lifted my hand and placed a kiss there. “I won’t stay longer in Scotland than necessary, and as soon as I’m back, I’ll send word to you. But please don’t go to Whitechapel while I’m gone.”
