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Ian looked out the window, thinking through this new information. “How confident are you of that?”

“Quite. Nobody has seen him since he left over a year ago.”

Ian walked toward the bedside table and scribbled a note about William, and all the other discoveries he’d made. They would soon be added to his investigative board in his secret study.

“But now if you don’t suspect Jarvis anymore,” Helen said hesitantly, “perhaps I could write to him.”

Ian looked up at her with a frown. “He is hunting for us now.”

“He is not hunting me,” she countered. “He worries about me. And so does Olivia. Not to mention that she is in a delicate condition. I need to let them know that I am fine and that you no longer think he is a murderer.”

Ian grimaced. “He might not be as forgiving as you, my bonnie lass.”

Helen’s cheeks were covered in a blush. She averted her gaze, so he wouldn’t see her timid smile, but it was too late. “He will if I explain everything.”

Ian came closer to her and took her hands in his. “You can’t do that in a letter. It could be intercepted and our identities would be compromised.”

“Then you need to let me go home.”

Never. He shook his head. “Not alone.”

“Well, we are running out of options. And I need to get home. You need to get home, too, unless you want to stay here forever.”

Ian looked deeply into her eyes, trying to communicate with his eyes that he was not jesting. “Only if you stay here with me.”

“What are you saying?” She licked her lips as if they got suddenly dry.

“I am saying that if I don’t bring the murderers to the King, if I don’t out your cousin as the Shadow, I have nothing to go back to. I am suspended from duty because of my public humiliation at the brothel. I won’t get reinstated if I do nothing about it. I have no life in London aside from my job. But here… You like it here, don’t you?”

“I have Laney.”

“We can bring her here. Is she the only reason why you want to go back to London?”

Helen downcast her eyes. “I can’t stay,” she answered simply.

“Even as my wife?” he asked hopefully. He didn’t mean to ask her that. In his mind, when he proposed, it would have been a grander affair. He’d drop to one knee, his hand on his heart. He would’ve done it in his conservatory, by the pillar where they made love. It was too late for that now.

Helen’s eyes fell closed. “I can’t be your wife.”

Ian looked at her face and could see deep pain etched into her features. And the answering pain was stabbing him in the heart at the same moment.

There weren’t any more gut-wrenching words in the world than the five words he’d just heard from the woman he loved.

I can’t be your wife.

Millions of thoughts whirled around his mind trying to figure out her resistance. And only one reason made sense.

She didn’t love him.

And perhaps Ian could change her mind, but he could not change her heart.

She was still in love with her late husband.

It was obvious and it cut deep, leaving huge gashes in his soul. And there was nothing he could do about that.

But even if he couldn’t convince her to love him, he could convince her to stay with him. He could care for her and her child like no one else could, of that he was certain. They needn’t stay in Scotland. He didn’t have the best memories of this place growing up. He preferred London.

Although, now that he thought about it, he didn’t have any preference for where to stay. As long as Helen was with him.