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These questions were too difficult for her to answer. Well, she knew the answer to one of them, at least. Yes, she loved Gideon—loved him with a fierce intensity that terrified her, loved him despite every rational reason why she shouldn’t.

As for the rest…

“Just because he gave me money doesn’t mean he loves me,” she said finally, voicing the fear that had gnawed at her since she’d opened that envelope.

“It seems like he does to me,” Emir replied with the confidence of youth.

Curious and wishing her little brother was right, Leila turned to look at him properly. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, because it’s not just about the money, is it?” Emir settled back against the carriage seat. “Think about it, Abla. He helped you save me when he could have walked away. He arranged passage out of England when he could have refused, keeping you here against your will. Then there’s this money. He could have bought you a house with his name on the lease. He could have furnished it perfectly, hiring his own cook and ordering you more clothes… But that would tie you to him, make you dependent on his continued favor.” He paused and gave a little shrug. “Instead, he’s giving you freedom. Complete independence. You can go anywhere, do anything, and never need to see him again if you choose. In my opinion, freedom means love.”

Leila studied her younger brother with something approaching awe. “When did you become so wise?”

Emir’s impish grin broke the spell of his earlier seriousness. “Somewhere between when I was born and today, I assume. Unless today is a very special day and I’ve gained decades of wisdom in just the span of a few hours.”

Despite her anxiety, Leila found herself laughing.

“But why do you think I love him?” she asked, curious about his answer.

“Because you were sad that he hadn’t come to visit us these past few days,” Emir replied, ticking off points on his fingers. “Because you perk up every time his name is mentioned, even if you haven’t been paying attention to the conversation before that moment. Because you could have taken that letter from Mr. Barry and waited to open it until we were safely on the ship, as instructed, but you couldn’t wait even five minutes.” He paused dramatically. “Or seconds. And because we could have gone straight to the docks to catch our ship, yet instead, we’re making a detour to his townhouse, and you don’t even know what you’re going to say to him.”

Leila felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment at being so thoroughly understood by someone she still thought of as a baby. “You’re too clever for your own good,” she muttered.

The carriage came to a stop before Gideon’s townhouse. Though every fiber of her being wanted to leap out and storm into his home demanding answers, she forced herself to pause. This conversation might change everything. For her. For Gideon. For Emir.

She took a deep breath and turned to Emir once more. “Emir, I know I told you we were going home, and you seemed very excited about returning to Smyrna… but what if we stayed in England a little longer?”

Emir’s laugh was warm and knowing. “Because you love him,” he said, though his tone conveyed, “I knew it!”

Leila bit her lower lip. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “Because I love him.”

“Abla,” Emir said gently, reaching across to take her hand. “I was only three years old when we left Smyrna. I don’t really remember it as my home—not the way you do. I wasn’t excited because we were going back to a place I remembered fondly.” His voice grew softer and more serious. “I was excited because I thought we could finally build our own home for the first time in decades. A place where we belonged, where we could be ourselves without fear.” He squeezed her fingers gently. “But I don’t need to go to Smyrna to find my home. You are my home, Abla. You always have been. And if you tell me you’ll be happy here, then I will be happy too.”

Tears pricked at Leila’s eyes as she pulled her brother into a fierce embrace. “I love you,” she whispered against his hair. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Oh, I know,” he replied with characteristic confidence. “Now go get your duke.”

Leila stepped down from the carriage, her heart hammering with nervous anticipation. But as she approached the front door, her stomach dropped at the sight of two large traveling carriages stationed in the circular drive, both loaded high with trunks and household items covered in protective cloth.

Was Gideon leaving?

She walked through the open front door, which accommodated the stream of servants moving in and out with various items. Footmen were carrying boxes, and maids were covering furniture with white sheets.

“What’s going on?” she asked Mrs. Hill as the older woman descended the main staircase with an armful of linens.

“Miss Leila!” Mrs. Hill’s face lit up with genuine pleasure. “How lovely to see you here. I’m so glad things worked out well for you and your brother.”

“Thank you,” Leila replied, though her growing anxiety made it difficult to focus on pleasantries. She gently caught the woman’s arm. “But what is happening here? Why is everything being packed away?”

Mrs. Hill’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “Oh, hadn’t His Grace told you? Now that his mission is finished, we’re all returning to Wolverstone Court—his country estate. The townhouse is being closed for the season.”

Leila felt the blood drain from her face. “Where is Gideon—His Grace?”

The housekeeper’s expression shifted to one of distinct pity. “Oh, my dear, he took his personal trunks and departed some time ago. I believe he wanted to arrive ahead of the household staff.”

“How long ago?” Leila asked, unsure of what she would do with the information. Chase after him across the English countryside like some character from a Gothic novel?

Mrs. Hill swallowed. “Last night, my dear.”