Chapter Twenty-Nine
The garden behind Lady Eastbury’s townhouse should have smelled like autumn roses, fading and sweet. Instead, it carried only the chill of earth and endings. Leticia stood beneath the arbor, hands folded at her waist, trying to quiet the unrest rising beneath her skin.
Gabriel had sent word.
Her aunt had passed along the message in the hall, her voice clipped and unreadable. “He’s asked to see you in the garden.” There was no look, no tone. Only the words.
Before she left, her aunt crossed to the escritoire, drew out a small sheet, and wrote a few quick lines. When she finished, she sealed the note and handed it to a waiting footman.
“Take this to the address written and wait for a reply,” she said.
The man bowed and disappeared down the corridor.
Only then did she turn back to Leticia. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
Now, alone beneath the arbor, Leticia pressed her fingers to the edge of her skirt and exhaled slowly. She had nothing to fear. The brooch was hidden. She hadn’t said anything. He couldn’t know.
The gravel stirred with the sound of heavy, deliberate steps. She didn’t turn. She knew his step.
Gabriel emerged from behind the hedge, coat collar turned against the wind, expression shadowed. Not angry. But close.
“I came as soon as your aunt said you were here.” He stopped a pace away, giving her space.
Leticia inclined her head. “You said you needed to speak with me.”
“I did.” He stopped just out of reach. His gaze slid to the rosebushes beside her, back to her face. “I saw the portrait again. At Ashcombe Hall.”
Her chest tightened. “Your uncle and my mother.”
His eyes held hers. “And the brooch.”
Leticia didn’t move.
“I didn’t recognize it at first. Not truly. But the artist, the way he captured the light, it’s the same piece, isn’t it?”
She hesitated. “Gabriel…”
“Do you have it?”
His voice wasn’t unkind, but it carried consequences.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I have it. It’s safe.”
“Safe.” He said it as though the word itself were bitter. “Where?”
“No one knows where it is.”
“Except you.”
“And now you,” she said softly.
His expression shifted, lips tightening. “That’s not enough. You shouldn’t have kept this from me.”
Leticia stepped to the side, distancing herself more than she intended. Her hands went to her sleeves to comfort herself. “Do you think I wanted to?”
She drew her arms across her middle. “I didn’t know what it was until the Historical Society. Someone pointed out a necklace. I looked more closely at the brooch that night. That’s when I saw it. The raven.”
She swallowed. “I didn’t know what it meant, only that it could not be innocent.”
He stood still, unreadable.
“I wanted to say something,” she said. “But my mother warned me never to speak of it. Not to my aunt. Not to anyone.”
She glanced toward the windows. “I didn’t know if Aunt Margaret was involved. I didn’t know who to trust.”
She met his eyes again. “And you and I… we weren’t what we are now. Maybe we still aren’t.”
She let the silence sit for a moment before adding, low, “I didn’t hide it to deceive you. I was trying to decide what to do.”
Still, he didn’t speak.
“You don’t trust me,” she whispered. Even she heard the accusation in her throat. “Even now.”
Gabriel’s jaw ticked.
Leticia frowned. “What aren’t you saying?”
He hesitated, exhaled hard. “A note came. The morning after Lammer Cove.”
Leticia’s brows knit. “A note?”
“They didn’t name you. But it was clear. Return what is ours. Or bury her with it. Next time, they warned, we won’t miss. Give us the brooch.” He kept his voice steady as if he were reciting a fact.
She drew back as if struck. Her hand flew to her mouth, fell away. “You knew? All this time, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By keeping me blind?” Her voice broke. “You let me walk into danger without knowing.”
He stepped closer. “I thought that if you did not know everything, you would not be targeted directly.”
“You thought to spare me by leaving me helpless?” she snapped. “You let me face the cliff and the cove without knowing the full danger.”
“I thought someone meant to kill us,” he said, the confession raw at the edges. “I thought keeping the matter contained was the only way to manage it.”
“You knew there was a threat,” she said, heat rising. “And you told no one?”
“I told those who needed to know,” he said. “I arranged watches. I—” His voice cracked. “I tried to keep you from seeing how dangerous it was.”
“You received a threat against my life and told no one,” she said, incredulous. “How could you think that was protecting me?”
“I was trying to protect you,” he repeated, voice low, but the certainty had holes.
“And I was trying to protect you!” Her voice cut like wind over stone. “I’ve followed clues. I’ve spoken with people. You have no idea what I’ve done.”
His brows pulled together. “You were alone?”
“I’m not a child. I am capable of taking care of myself.”
“No,” he said flatly. “You can’t. Not against this.”
Her chin rose. “I saved you at Lammer Cove.”
That stopped him. For a heartbeat, something like shame crossed his face. He hadn’t known.
“You said you were shielding me,” she said, her voice trembling with restraint. “But I was already in it, Gabriel. I chose to be. I climbed that cliff with you. I risked just as much.”
He said nothing.
“And yet you still kept the brooch,” he said finally, almost accusing. “What else are you hiding, Leticia? Are you sure you aren’t in deeper than you admit?”
She stared at him. Her hand curled into a fist at her side. “If you truly believe that, if you actually think I could be part of something so dark, then you don’t know me at all.”
The wind shifted. Leaves rattled like applause for a performance long finished.
“You should never have come here,” she said.
She turned and walked toward the house, unhurried, though her chest felt hollow. Behind her, she heard the quiet crunch of gravel as he turned and walked away.
Neither of them looked back.
*
Leticia stepped inside and stopped short. Her aunt stood at the hearth, her arms crossed. The fire burned low, but her expression radiated heat.
“You heard,” Leticia said.
“I did.” Her aunt’s voice was as flat as the embers.
“I’m sorry.”
Her aunt didn’t blink. “What brooch?”
Leticia looked down. “My mother’s.”
“The one with the raven.”
Leticia’s head jerked up. “You know it?”
“I begged her to get rid of it years ago. She wouldn’t listen.” Her hand braced against the mantel, fingers whitening on the carved edge. “I never,” Her voice broke. “I never thought she’d give it to you. That cursed thing has haunted us for decades.”
Leticia swayed. “I didn’t know. To me, it was a keepsake. Something from Vienna. A kindness.” Her voice dropped. “She told me never to speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. I didn’t know she was leaving me with a burden.”
Her aunt’s eyes softened. “She didn’t know what it was,” she said quietly. “She gave you what she thought was hers to give. Love, and something beautiful to remember her by. She couldn’t have known the cost.”
Leticia dropped onto the settee. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Her aunt’s voice was quiet now. “Because we were afraid it would matter again.”
“And now it does.”
Her aunt nodded once. “Now it does.”
Leticia bent forward, elbows on her knees. Her hands shook. “I…I could fix it. I…I could hold it long enough to learn its secrets, and then…”
Her voice trailed off. The sob came suddenly and without warning, rising before she could stop it.
Her aunt moved at once, wrapping her arms around her, holding her close, smoothing her hair with the same rhythm as years past. The steadiness of it calmed her.
“We’ll face it, child,” she whispered. “Whatever comes.”
*
The study at Ashcombe Hall smelled of smoke and stillness.
Gabriel hadn’t lit the lamps. Shadows stretched across the floor, broken only by the hearth’s red glow. He stood beside the fire, the untouched glass of brandy heavy in his hand.
Leticia’s words haunted him. I was already in it. I chose to be. She’d risked her life beside him, and he’d turned on her.
A sound broke the stillness, a knock, deliberate and too polite for the hour. The butler entered with a silver tray. “Colonel Barrington’s man delivered this, sir.” He placed a folded note on the tray.
Gabriel took the note. The paper was creased, the edges damp.
“There was an incident at Lady Eastbury’s,” the butler added. “A man was seen at the servants’ entrance. He fled, but left this.”
Gabriel set down his brandy and opened the note.
Return what is ours. Or bury her with it.
He froze.
“When?” he asked, waving the note at Kenworth. “When did this happen?”
“Half past six, sir.”
That was just before he’d arrived. The muscles in his jaw locked. His hand tightened.
“She knew,” he said quietly. “She knew when I was standing in front of her.” Barrington’s note slipped out of his hand. He picked up his brandy again and stared into the hearth.
Something broke in his expression. Fury, shame, fear braided together.
“She looked me in the eye,” he whispered, “and still said nothing.”
He hurled the brandy glass into the hearth, shattering it against the stone, the liquid hissing as it met the flame.
His butler flinched but said nothing.
Gabriel stood breathing hard, the note crushed in his fist.
“Leave me,” he said.
The butler bowed and left.
Alone again, Gabriel stared into the fire. If they came for her again, he would be ready.
And so help him, he would have the truth.