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“Mrs. Dalton and Ernest. They were my only friends when I was a child. Pathetic, do you know agree? I cannot do that to a child.”

“There are ways to not have a child and still be close,” she told him. “I have heard about it. And even if we did have a child, and even if it did have your affliction, we would not treat that child the way you were treated. You must know that.”

“I cannot do that to you. I want you to have a healthy child, Emma. I want you to experience all the joy of having a child in the light. If our child suffered as I did, I do not know what I would do.”

“You would love the child. We would take him or her out in the moonlight and have adventures then. We will go riding in the moonlight, swim at midnight. Play in the garden at three in the morning. But Ambrose, all of that is if we should have such a child. We do not know that our children will inherit your affliction.” She took a deep breath. “I do know what our child will inherit with certainty. Your strength. Your loyalty. Your tenderness, even if you pretend you possess none.” Her voice began to shake, but she did not look away, nor did she stop. “It would be one of the most beautiful things a child could inherit.”

Her words settled hard within him, deeper than any accusation could have. He was struggling to keep his mask on.

Marina sniffed. “Just as I have learned to let go of the past, you must learn to do so too. You cannot spend your whole life preparing for a tragedy that has not happened. Prepare a future your child can actually enjoy. Do not become your parents.”

Then, almost shyly, she added, “If I were ever to be his or her mother, that child would be very loved.”

She paused, her fingers tightening around his as though she could somehow make him understand what she was trying to give him. She looked away, and when she returned her gaze to him, he noticed the tear that had finally slipped out. “I wish you saw yourself the way I see you, Ambrose.”

“I wish I could too, but I do not know that I ever will.”

For the first time, his mask fell completely. His fingers loosened around her wrist, his whole body going perfectly still. There was no composure left, no clever reply. And yet, this time, it was her turn to feel uncertain for he had pulled away from her so often, she did not know she could ever trust that he would not do so again.

Twenty-Nine

“If beast is the new word for handsome, then I surely understand why now,” Sophia declared dreamily, her chin resting against her gloved fingers as though she had just discovered the greatest truth of the season.

Harper nodded solemnly beside her. “Indeed. I fear we have been using the word incorrectly all our lives,” she agreed, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement that made it difficult for Marina to take her seriously.

Marina chuckled from the middle of the carriage, trapped between her sisters and their relentless fascination with her husband. “And this discovery prompted you to spend the entire evening staring at him?”

“We were not staring,” Sophia protested innocently, widening her eyes.

“We were observing,” Harper corrected with all the dignity of her title, though the smile on her lips ruined her seriousness.

Marina rolled her eyes.

They were traveling to her cottage, for she wanted to see how the repairs were progressing.

Ambrose could not join them in the daylight, of course, and Marina had been reluctant to leave Emma behind. Simon had settled the matter. Having raised the twins, he declared, he could certainly manage one small baby for an afternoon, particularly with Luna to supervise him. The cat had already taken up her post beneath Emma’s crib by the time they left, watching the Duke of Netherton with deep suspicion.

Their mother had elected to stay behind as well. She wished, she said, to become properly acquainted with her new son-in-law. Marina had not much liked the gleam in her eye when she said it.

She had told her sisters there had been an incident at the cottage and it was severely damaged, but had not told them everything in detail. It was better to show them, she’d decided. Not even a fortnight had passed since the incident, and she was not sure how much work would have been done.

The gardener had been able to save some of her plants, Mr. Grumble among them, which had delighted her, but she wasn’t certain of the state of the actual cottage.

Later, her sisters would help her with preparations for the ball.

“You heard Harper. We were merely appreciating what was before us.” Her younger sister nodded decisively.

Marina’s mind had returned to the corridor. To Ambrose telling her he was afraid. To the way his voice had changed when he confessed what she meant to him. The thoughts made her heart give an inconvenient little flutter.

Thankfully, the carriage finally stopped, offering her a welcome distraction from the duke and everything he had said. Home. The thought came with a certain sweetness, and she was eager to revisit the place that had been her best companion through the years.

Harper climbed out behind her, glancing around with a puzzled frown. “Was the garden always this… empty?”

Sophia followed, her brows lifting as she studied the building before them. “And I do not recall that wall looking quite so… repaired.”

Marina felt a familiar ache as she followed their gazes.

“No,” she admitted softly. “It was not.”