Chapter 8
Eight
Leander had pushed her too far. Sabrina stood completely still before him in the library; her fingers curled tightly around the skirt of her gown as though the silk itself might steady her.
A storm churned in her chest—not the kind that rattled windowpanes, but the kind that unsettled the heart, that made every breath sharp and every word perilous.
How dare he ask her that?
How dare he look at her with those earnest, searching eyes, as if he had the right to demand answers she had buried years ago?
She swallowed hard, but the knot in her throat only tightened.
“Why did you take my leaving so personally?” he had asked again.
“Why will you not even look at me the same way you once did?”
Questions she had no wish to revisit. Wounds she had no desire to reopen.
He did not understand—could not understand—that his leaving for war had nearly broken her.
That it had felt like a betrayal so deep she still had not found her way out of it.
That she had loved him, hopelessly and foolishly, while he had ridden away without a backward glance.
And he expected her to simply say it? To lay herself bare before the very man who had shattered her heart without ever knowing he held it?
No. Impossible.
She released her skirts and crossed her arms over her ribcage as if that might keep everything contained. Every fear, every memory, every bit of longing she still carried for him.
For Leander.
Even thinking his name felt dangerous.
She should not be agonizing over old heartbreak when far more pressing matters loomed. Basil. The letter she had found addressed to her brother—its contents still burned behind her eyes. The blackmail. The threat. The peril her family now faced. That should have been her focus.
Not the man who had left her behind. Not the man who stood before her now in the library waiting for an answer she did not know how to give.
Both truths might free her or they both could destroy her…
She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. Could she tell him? Could she truly confess that his departure had devastated her? That she had spent years believing she had been nothing to him, that her affection had been laughably one-sided?
Could she risk that humiliation?
Or would it be easier—safer—to speak of Basil instead? To tell Leander of the blackmail letter, of the danger hovering at their door? To divert his questions and protect what little pride she had left?
She closed her eyes. All she knew—all she had ever known—was that her brother was in trouble…
and that Leander still owned her heart, no matter how hard she tried to wrench it free.
And now he wanted answers. Sabrina drew a shaky breath, straightened her spine, and boldly met his gaze.
She would have to choose—truth, or protection or perhaps, God help her, both.
She had to give him something. He would not accept anything less, and damn him, it was a side of him she respected.
He had never held back with her and why should he now.
Sabrina tilted her chin up almost in defiance, as if daring him to claim her. How she wanted him to claim her… “You want the truth?” she asked.
“That would be a fine start,” he replied. “What truth will you give me tonight, Sabella?”
Wasn’t that the question for the ages… “What truth do you truly want, Lee?” she asked softly. “Do you want to know about my broken heart or the blackmail hanging over Basil’s head?”
His sharp intake of breath stilled her heart. He swallowed hard and cupped her cheek. “I never wanted that for you,” he told her. “I…” He shook his head. “I would never have you hurt. Not for any reason.”
“We do not always get what we wish for do we?” She stepped away from him. “It cannot be undone.”
He blew out a shaky breath. She had not said that she had loved him, that she still loved him.
Sabrina was not ready to speak that particular truth.
She may never be ready to give it to him.
It was enough that he knew how much his actions had hurt her.
That her heart had shattered at the loss of him from her life.
She had believed it was likely she would never lay her gaze upon him again.
That was the nature of war was it not? Loved ones died.
He could have died… She nearly gave into the agony of that possibility.
But he was here now. He was alive and those fears had not been the reality she expected.
She should be grateful. Truly, she was, but she was also still quite livid with him.
“Have it your way,” he finally said. “We won’t speak of your hurts. Instead let us focus on the present danger in your life. Tell me about this blackmail.”
Sabrina closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Perhaps it was cowardly, but she was glad he wasn’t pushing her for more.
She did not wish to lay her wounds before him with the hope he would ease that ache.
She could speak of Basil and the blackmail.
That was a far safer topic for them to address.
So, she told him. About the letter and the night that she had followed Basil to the seedier side of London.
Then she met his gaze and said, “I saw you for the first time in years that night. It was a shock and I almost gave myself away. But something else drew your attention before I had the chance.”
Leander swore under his breath. She had almost not heard what he had said, but she understood from his tone that he was not pleased.
He had not liked the idea of her being in those rookeries.
She had a question of her own for him and she wondered if he would tell her the truth. “Why were you there that night?”
Leander went still at her question—a question he wasn’t ready to answer...
Sabrina’s words still echoed in his mind—soft, trembling, but honest. Far more honest than he deserved. She had told him he broke her heart and that made him hate himself. He hated that he had hurt her. But her other confession… That left him cold.
Blackmail and a Frenchwoman. Her brother entangled in a web he should never have stepped near. The pieces were beginning to align with unsettling clarity.
So, Basil was being targeted because he was the son of a high-ranking peer—a man whose connection to the War Office was not exactly paraded through the beau monde, but neither was it deeply hidden.
Anyone with persistence, coin, or a talent for gossip could discover it.
And a Frenchwoman of questionable loyalties?
She would have known precisely what strings to pull.
What Leander could not yet determine was whether élise had penned that threatening letter—or whether someone else had discovered Basil’s involvement and now sought to profit from it.
He would almost wager his entire fortune—a wager he rarely lost—that the woman was completely entangled in this mess.
Perhaps she even had an accomplice that was behind that blackmail letter.
His jaw tightened. Danger was circling her family for far longer than Sabrina realized.
But what unsettled him most was not the threat itself—it was the memory of Sabrina’s pale face when she confessed, she had seen him in that wretched quarter of London on the night he had started the Lion watch with Dash.
Hell. It chilled him to the bone.
Not because he cared overmuch that she had seen him—though her presence had startled him—but because she had endangered herself by merely walking down that street.
A young lady of her standing had no business stepping foot in such places.
A single misstep, a single wrong encounter…
It didn’t matter that she had worn a disguise.
He did not want to even think of what might have happened to her… He forced the thought away.
He remembered exactly where he had been when she would have been there—near the dilapidated building that would soon become the headquarters of the Lion Watch, the covert initiative he had begun piecing together with his friend.
He intended to protect the vulnerable and expose corruption.
He would fill the void the Crown had long ignored.
He had debated telling her the truth. The question had thrummed at the back of his tongue when she asked why he had been there.
But her brother’s plight had weighed so heavily on her that he could not bring himself to add another burden.
And truthfully… he wasn’t certain she was ready to know what sort of man he was beneath his polite veneer.
So, he had done what he had always done—deflected and instead set to distract her. “I think we have much more pressing things to discuss.” He had to protect her from the truth of him. “Your brother needs to be saved from himself.”
“I know that,” she said in an exasperated tone. “But what is to be done? I do not know who is blackmailing him.”
He nodded. “Leave that to me?”
“And what, pray tell, are you going to do about it? What do you know of blackmail?” she asked.
Far more than she realized… “Do you trust me, Sabella?”
She tilted her head to the side and studied him. “What does that have to do with this?”
His expression hardened with resolve. “Everything,” he said simply. “I can fix this if you will let me.”
After a few moments she nodded. “I do trust you, but I can’t let you do that. This is not your problem, Lee.”
But it was his problem. It had become his problem the moment she had explained Basil’s peril.
There were too many possibilities for who held the noose around Basil’s neck.
Too many hands eager to tighten the rope.
But whoever it was—they had chosen the wrong family.
Leander would not allow them to hurt Sabrina or anyone she loved.
He would see the culprit ruined. He would see them beg for mercy before he allowed a single tear to fall from her lashes.
Leander would see them brought to their knees for even daring such a thing.
He had to convince her that he could do this for her.
That he would do it regardless. Even if she gave him leave to or not.
But he did not know how he could convince her.
But he could not say all of that. Words felt inadequate.
Useless. Instead of words he pulled her into his arms, one hand cupping the back of her head as he crushed his mouth to hers
He could no longer deny the passion inside of him. He was tired of being the gentleman and leaving her alone. He wanted her. He had always wanted her. The moment their lips met, the world shifted.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was years of restraint snapping.
It was fury and fear and desire and devotion all colliding at once.
Sabella gasped into him, hands curling into his coat as though startled by the force of his hunger—and yet she did not pull away.
Instead, she melted against him, returning his kiss with a desperation that stole the breath from his lungs.
He deepened the kiss, tasting every soft sound she made, every shiver, every surrender.
God help him, he had tried—tried for far too long—to behave as a gentleman ought.
Tried to keep his distance and to pretend the fire between them was mere imagination.
But she was pressed against him now, warm and trembling.
Her lips were soft and eager beneath his, and all his good intentions shattered.
He was done being noble. He lifted his head only long enough to speak against her lips. “I am tired of pretending I do not want you,” he said hoarsely.
Her breath hitched, her eyes wide and luminous. “Leander…”
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, gentling himself only for her sake. “You may tell me no. You may tell me never again. But I will not deny this any longer. Not this. Not you.”
She swallowed, her fingers still twisted in his coat as though unsure whether to draw him back or push him away. “I should tell you no,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “The price of allowing you in my life may prove to high.”
He leaned his forehead to hers. “Let it cost me, Sabella. I am not afraid of the price.”
“I am afraid it is me that will pay it,” Her eyes fluttered shut, as if the admission cut deeper than any blade. “I don’t know if I can trust my heart with you again.” she breathed. “And what about Basil? If you involve yourself, you put yourself in danger as well.”
“Then so be it,” he said firmly. “I will not stand by while someone threatens your family. Threatens you. I would walk into any fire for you, Sabella.” He should tell her about his skills now. It might ease some of her worries, but he couldn’t shatter this fragile thread between them.
Her lips parted on a soft, trembling exhale—as though some long-held resistance had finally cracked. He kissed her again—slower this time, reverent, as though he feared she might vanish. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping him with such fierce emotion it nearly undid him.
Whatever happened next—whatever hell he had to walk through—he would face it gladly. He would save her brother. He would hunt down the coward who dared threaten them. And he would not let Sabrina Fairfax go. Not now. Not ever again.