Page 88 of Give Him a Chance

Bernard swallowed.Oh, dear.

Her laughter was pained, but it caused Bernard even more pain as it scorched through him.

“Lucy—”

“You told me you’re not a criminal,” Lucy said quietly, her voice unnervingly level. “That you’re a spy.”

Bernard blinked. “Yes, but I don’t know what that has to do with—”

“But how can I know you’re speaking the truth?” she whispered, staring with wide eyes. “How can I know that anything you’ve told me about yourself is true?”

Oh.

This was something he had not considered. Bernard had always told the truth, except… Damn. Except when he lied.

But that was for the job, for his country. A spy couldn’t gander about the place telling everyone the truth. He wouldn’t last five minutes!

“You have offered me no proof of your innocence, nor of your service to this country,” Lucy said slowly, folding her arms before her as though they were a protective barrier. “I have only your word—”

“And you trust my word, don’t you?” Bernard said desperately.

It was all unraveling. It was all falling apart. He knew well enough that, perhaps until he claimed his title, there was no way he could prove his innocence—quite to the contrary, Hovell always made some wonderfully falsified records for the courts and prisons. That was one of the reasons they worked so well as a team.

Lucy swallowed, and her hesitation told him more than enough.

“Lucy, you have to trust me—”

“Why? You could be a criminal, or—or married, or—”

“I am not married,” Bernard said sharply. And was not likely to be, at this rate.

Now the tears were flowing from Lucy’s eyes and it was a dagger to his heart to see her so upset—but he had tried to approach her and she had shied away from him like a horse who had suffered through too many whippings.

Dear God. He had done that.

Him. He had hurt her.

“I don’t know anything about you,” Lucy whispered as another tear trickled down her cheek.

“You might not know about my past, but—but, Lucy, you know everything important about me, about who I am,” Bernard said desperately, feeling the moment slipping away from him like sand through his fingertips.

“I don’t even know your real name, do I?”

Bernard hesitated, his mouth dry.

She turned away from him, her hand lifted to her mouth as she stifled a sob.

Dropping his head into his hands and rubbing at his tired eyes, Bernard desperately tried to think of a way to convince her—to show her he was a man who could be trusted.

But she was also not wrong. What did she know of him that could be proven? That he was afraid of swimming and that he knew how to read. He had the skills to beat up four men who jumped on him unawares, and he could dance a country dance.

It wasn’t exactly the best foundation for a life of wedded bliss.

Her body was shaking. “I-I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been—”

“You’re not stupid,” Bernard said, stepping toward her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “You—”

Lucy shrugged off his touch and strode away from him, the hallway somehow becoming a boxing ring within which they circled each other. “I have been! And I’ve been distracted,distracted from my work, from the importance of the Prison Reform Society—”