Page 133 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

“Thomas,” she said softly, “I do not know what I must do.”

He nodded. “You don’t have to know today.”

She took a long breath, acknowledging her past and looking toward her future stretching out before her.

“No,” she said quietly. “But I am certain of one thing.”

Thomas met her gaze, breath held.

Eliza continued, “Whatever I do decide, I want you beside me.”

Relief flickered across his features, not dramatic, not overwhelming, but genuine and deeply felt.

“I’ll be there,” he said, equally soft.

For the first time since the letter arrived, Eliza felt the ground beneath her steady.

It was enough.

A perfect beginning.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Eliza waited until the house had settled again, until Hale and Sir Hughes had been closeted in the study, until Nathaniel began the work of reviewing the documents, until Eleanor quietly restored the rhythm of the household with food and direction.

The small sitting room at the end of the west corridor had always been her refuge. Adrian had known it too. He often found her there when Thornhaven’s noise grew too much and she needed to remember herself. It seemed fitting to open his words in the one place at Hartleigh that still held the memory of peace.

She closed the door behind her and sat by the window. The winter light slanted across the floorboards, cool and pale. The small velvet pouch lay beside the letter. She picked up the letter and broke the seal.

The paper inside was simple, Adrian’s handwriting clean and familiar.

She drew a breath and began to read.

My dearest Eliza,

If you are reading this, it means I failed to place these matters in your hands myself. For that, I am sorry. I never wanted to leave anything unfinished for you to bear alone.

I know you did not ask for the responsibility of my estate or the decisions that follow. You married me out of companionship and kindness, and I loved you in return, quietly, without spectacle, but with constancy I hope you felt, even when I did not say it well.

There was one grief you never spoke of, but I saw it. The loss of your family home marked you more deeply than you allowed others to see. I could not restore the years or the memories, but I could restore the place. So I did.

My intention was never to anchor you to Thornhaven, but to free you to choose the life you wished.

I hope Ashcombe House gives you peace. I hope it gives you choice. And I hope, more than anything, that you live the years ahead with someone who sees your strength clearly and walks beside it with pride.

You deserve a partner, not a protector. A companion, not a keeper. Someone who knows how to listen when the world grows loud and who trusts your mind when others doubt it.

Be well, Eliza. Be happy. And choose the life that feels like breath, not obligation.

Yours,

Adrian

Her eyes blurred on the final lines. She folded the letter slowly, pressing the crease with her thumb. Not grief. Not quite. A gentler ache. A closing that did not wound.

A soft knock came at the door.

She knew who it was before she spoke.