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Later that night, Peregrine could not sleep. Therefore, he walked the corridors of Ashbourne, looking for it. Looking for peace. He found himself drawn to Henry’s room, as many times before. He pushed the door open, and stepped into the room that had become a shrine.

Henry’s wooden horses were still there, as well as his leather boots. His things felt so small, a reminder that they lost him so young. The faint pencil marks by the doorframe stopped at a certain point and Peregrine could not help but still think of what could have been.

For years, he had kept his promise to Henry. It was out of both love and guilt. But Henry was already dead, and Rosamund still alive. Peregrine had consistently chosen to honor his promises to the dead over trusting the living.

Preserving Ashbourne might initially feel like an act of respect and nobility, but it had become a tool of control. He was holding onto the estate because he could not bear to release the past. It was the same with Rosamund.

It was time to let go.

The following morning, Peregrine met with his solicitor, Mr. Honeycutt. As usual, his friend Adrian came with him as witness.

“I require three actions immediately executed,” Peregrine instructed with a steady voice. This was it. “First, Crowther must be prosecuted or otherwise dealt with through the proper channels for blackmail. He will be punished according to the law, nothing more and nothing less. I will not use ducal influence to punish him further with the need for vengeance. Second, gather all documents that relate to the late Countess of Ashbourne, Miss Eleanor Vale, Marian Vale, the blackmail, Henry’s trust, and the original Ashbourne investigation. These documents will be copied and organized. Nothing is to be hidden. Nothing is to be destryoned. Nothing is to be withheld from Lady Rosamund.” Peregrine paused, giving the solicitor a chance to scribble more of his instructions. “Finally, you will begin the process of transferring Ashbourne Hall.”

This time, Mr. Honeycutt looked at Peregrine uncertainty, resting his quill in th inkwell. “Are you selling -?”

“No, Mr. Honeycutt,” Peregrine said. “We are not selling it. We are returning it. There should be legal arrangements put in place to ensure that the control will be under Lady Rosamund Harcourt’s name alone. She may decide what to do with it. She may keep it, sell it, live there, close it, divide it or give it away. I will retain no claim and will not hold any conditions upon the transfer.”Legal arrangements should be put in place to ensure that

“My dear friend, do you know the current value of Ashbourne Hall and its environs?” Adrian asked.

“Yes, I do,” Peregrine replied calmly.

“Is this a way to buy Lady Rosamund’s forgiveness?” Adrian wanted to know. His brows were furrowed, and his arms were folded across his chest.

“No, Adrian. Even if she chooses never to speak my name again, Ashbourne will still be hers. That is the point of this. The estate was never mine to keep.”

“Your Grace, these will all be executed as soon as it is humanly possible,” Mr. Honeycutt confirmed, closing his ledger with finality.

At Rosewood, Rosamund began a full examination of her own sorrow. She pulled out the letter Henry left her at the orchard by the treehouse. She reread its contents over and over.

For the first time, she also allowed herself to remember her father without defending him. She remembered his anxiety and distraction in the months leading to the scandal, and the hushed conversations behind closed doors. He had been so on edge that he had snapped at Henry once, only to apologize immediately after. Her father had been living on frayed nerves. She made him out to be a perfect man, father, and victim. Such a man would never disappoint or abandon her. With such a man, she did not have to admit that someone she loved made choices she did not and could not understand.

“I spent a long time trying to reclaim Ashbourne because it was easier than admitting I could never recover my family exactly as it was.”

“Grief often gives us impossibele tasks,” Alice said, “because impossible tasks keep us from having to stop grieving.”

“I still love my father,” Rosamund declared, the admission rattling her to the bone.

“Why should learning the truth require you to stop?” Alice asked. “He was still your father, and he did what he did to protect your mother, and you and Henry, too. Nobody in this world is perfect. He probably hated himself while he was taking from Henry. After all, who had put the trust for him in the first place?”

“I see that I am not required,” Rosamund said, seeing the light.

Her father had been dishonest and caused harm. However, he also desperately tried to protect his family. All those things could be true at once. The same could be said about Peregrine - and Peregrine was still alive.

But Peregrine did not come to visit Rosewood Cottage. He did not send gifts or letters, passionate or not. There were no pleas for her to understand him. While Rosamund felt hurt about the continuous absence, she also understood it.

One afternoon, a packet arrived from Mr. Honeycutt’s office. Inside was every document related to her family, from bank transfers to letters. It also included Peregrine’s investigations. Everything was there, including details in which nenither her father nor Peregrine looked heroic in the least. Their weakest points were included.

Seeing the unfiltered truth in front of her persuaded Rosamund that Peregrine had finally changed. He no longer attempted to control the story.

At the bottom of the packet was a separate legal document. At first, Rosamund thought that it might be related to her father, but instead, she saw a deed of transfer for Ashbourne Hall.

Rosamund gasped, quickly standing from her chair.

“What is it, Rosamund?” Alice asked, rushing to the room.

“Th-the D-duke has transferred Ashbourne to me,” Rosamund stammered, her whole body trembling. “He has given it to me solely.”

“Is there a letter with it?” Alice asked.