“I love you, Jahleel. But I know how hard you fought for your father’s legacy. You can’t give it up for the woman who defrauded you. Our child doesn’t know me as her mother. I’m Katherine the liar. That is the insurmountable punishment.”
“No, Katia, we are so close … the ball is in two days. There—”
“What outcome can I hope for other than my disgrace? Let the Palmerses invalidate my marriage to Tavis. I wanted the title for my mother, but I do her more honor by walking in truth.”
“What of us? You wanted to be married to me.”
“Don’t you know, I said that to a man I thought was dying. The person I’m looking at is already dead. He packaged upeverything, strategized and planned, and took away every risk but one: that Katherine Wilcox was so desperate that she’d settle for crumbs.”
I start down the stairs.
“You want me to grovel again, Katia. To tell you that I love you. You know that I do.”
“In vain, I have struggled. No more. I’ll stay through the ball and your engagement. I’ll help Lydia understand.”
“Katia. Katherine. Come back. You’re upset. We can be rational. Please.”
It takes everything in me not to return to the man I love, but my pride has arisen from ashes. It overcomes every rational objection. These feelings I thought impossible to conquer, but I do and walk away with my head held high. I let the strategist, the smartest man in the world, do as he wishes by his own power. I’ve reclaimed mine.
Chapter 39
JAHLEEL—THEOPERATIONSETBACK
The day of Thom’s operation has come. I stand at the top of the stairs, knowing I can go down them, but afraid of the reality below.
Katherine is done. She walked away from our love. I tried to visit her last night to talk, but she was out in the garden until dawn. She’s alone and not waiting for a grand gesture.
The distance between the stairs and my study must be increasing. I hold to the rail and, completely winded, I finally take the last step.
I see Katherine outside the ballroom. Dressed in sunny blue, she sniffs the large white urn of roses. Her fingers skim the hibiscus tumbling over the side. Her heels click along the parquet as she saunters between the columns. Perfectly poised, her elegant feet waltzing to the music that Lord Mark and Georgina play, the woman I love doesn’t look back. There are no signals or smiles that offer forgiveness or a notion of consideration. Guess one doesn’t have to leave to be finished.
A servant passes her. Katherine gets a letter, probably from the Palmerses or whoever has decided to antagonize her or the ideals she represents: a fearless lady, a Blackamoor woman who’s tired of criticism and explaining.
My voice sticks in my throat. I can’t call to her. I watch Katherine sail into the ballroom, away from me, from fighting for Lydia. Even the kitten couldn’t keep her.
Checkmate again.
As hurt and as betrayed as I am about her decision, I must say well done. She’s my match, the only one who can ever outthink or take more risks than me. This is why I will never, ever stop loving her.
Yet I have no plan, nothing to fix us or restore the heart she’s again stolen.
I’m not sure how I made it to my studies. Aimlessness and listlessness are vices I refuse to keep. I nod to Masters William and Donald. Mr. Thom’s sons sit in chairs close to my desk. They’re pleasant young men, but I sense their nerves.
Lord Mark and Georgina enter. They’ve come from the music room, bubbly with love and the new sonata they’ve blessed us to hear. Their partnership is enviable.
The passage to my hidden room stands wide open, covered by a screen of white linen. The curtains in there and in my office let in sunlight.
Katherine and Lydia come into the room. My child wears a frown. “I don’t understand.”
Has Katherine told her the new plans?
How could she before the ball? When that woman says she is done, she means it.
With a finger to my lips, I motion her to quiet. Then I curl my fingers to have my child come to me.
Lydia sits on my lap. “Are they going to hurt Mr. Thom? He’s nice. No one should hurt him.”
“No one should harm anyone,” Katherine says, taking the farthest seat away. “Your father won’t allow it.”
