Chapter Twenty
The midnight streets of London held a sinister quality Lucien barely noticed as he rode through them, his mind consumed with thoughts of Courtney.
A fine mist had begun to fall, enshrouding the gas lamps in halos of diffused light and dampening his cloak, but he barely felt the chill.
His heart pounded with a mixture of rage at Lockwood, fear for Courtney, and the burning need to see her—to explain everything.
What was she thinking about him, about them?
Did she hate him for not telling her? Had he lost her trust?
When he reached Lorne House, he circled to the garden side. Lauren had told him which window belonged to Courtney’s bedchamber. A light still burned there, visible through the curtains—she was awake. Relief flooded through him, followed swiftly by determination.
Tethering his horse to a tree at the edge of the property, Lucien studied the ancient oak that grew beside the house, its branches stretching toward Courtney’s window. Once, years ago, he might have climbed it with practiced ease. Tonight, he would have to relearn the skill quickly.
The damp bark made his hands slip as he hauled himself up, finding footholds in the gnarled trunk.
His muscles strained with the effort, but adrenaline drove him ever upward.
A branch cracked beneath his boot, making him freeze momentarily, listening for any sign he’d been detected.
Hearing nothing, he continued his ascent until he reached the branch that extended nearest to her window.
Perched precariously, he leaned forward and tapped gently on the glass. No response. He tapped again, slightly louder, then pressed his face close to the pane, trying to see through the gap in the curtains.
Suddenly, the curtains parted, and there she was—her auburn hair loose around her shoulders, her amber eyes widening in shock as she recognized him. She hastily unlatched the window.
“Lucien?” she whispered, her voice a mixture of disbelief and alarm as she pushed the window open. “What on earth are you doing? You could break your neck!”
“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice roughened by emotion. “Please, let me in.”
She didn’t hesitate, allowing him space to climb through the window. She stuck her head out and looked around before slamming the window sash closed.
He landed on her bedroom floor with less grace than he’d intended, then straightened, taking in her appearance. Her fine lawn night dress was almost transparent in the firelight, and with her hair tumbling loose and her face pale with worry, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, though she made no move to call for help. “If anyone discovers you—”
“I know about Lockwood,” he interrupted, watching her face closely. “I know what he’s threatening to do. What he’s asking of you.”
Her face drained of color. “How did you—”
“Mrs. Bellamy came to see me tonight. She owns the establishment where Lockwood learned about Ava.”
Courtney sank onto the edge of her bed, her knees seemingly unable to support her. “Then you know everything,” she whispered.
“Everything Lockwood knows,” Lucien confirmed, moving to kneel before her. “But not everything I should have told you myself long ago.” He took her hands in his, finding them cold and trembling. “Courtney, I am so sorry.”
Her eyes searched his face. “You lied to me—be it by omission. I wish you could have trusted me!”
“I was going to tell you when we got back to London,” he said, squeezing her hands. “I didn’t want to ruin our time in Dorset. I was a coward.”
“I did wonder if that was the case.” A single tear traced down her cheek. “I wouldn’t have judged you, Lucien. Surely you know that?”
“Deep down, I did,” he admitted. “But I was so afraid of losing you. Of seeing disgust or disappointment in your eyes when you learned how thoroughly I’d been deceived. How I fathered a child with a woman who wasn’t even truly my wife.”
“Tell me now,” she urged gently. “I want to hear it from you.”
Lucien rose, unable to remain still. He paced the length of her bedroom, gathering his thoughts.
“After I was injured in the rebellion, I woke with no memory of who I was. Ava told me I’d been injured in the crossfire.
She hid the fact that I was an officer in the British army.
She nursed me back to health, telling me we were husband and wife. ”
“But how did she explain the brothel?” Courtney asked, her voice soft with understanding rather than judgment.
“She told me that I had been the head groom looking after the stables and she worked in the kitchen. I had no reason to doubt her. It was the only work we could get. She created an entire fiction—that we were John and Ava Collins. When I recovered enough strength, she told me her father had died and had left us a small farm. So, she moved us to Malahide, to a small cottage far from anyone who might know differently.”
He paused, looking out the window at the London night. “I believed her completely. Why wouldn’t I? I had no memories to contradict her story. And she was kind to me, caring—loving. And she was very beautiful. I came to love her.”
“It must have hurt when you discovered her lies.”
He sighed and turned to face her. “It destroyed me, and I’m thankful she was dead when I learned the truth. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d been still alive. I’ve found it hard to trust anyone ever since I learned how badly she deceived me.”
“And Ava-Marie?” Courtney asked softly.
A smile touched his lips, despite the pain of the memories. “I was overjoyed when Ava told me she was with child. I’ll never regret having her.”
“She is a lovely little girl.” Courtney hesitated. “And there is no doubting she’s your daughter.”
“Yes,” Lucien said with absolute certainty. “She has my eyes, my stubborn chin. Ava may have lied about many things, but she never betrayed me that way. Ava-Marie is my flesh and blood.”
Relief washed over Courtney’s face. “I’m glad. I’ve grown to love her because she is a part of you.”
The simple statement nearly undid him. He returned to kneel before her again, taking her hands. “It wasn’t until Rockwell arrived and we decided to check the parish records that I realized her entire story had been fabrication. Even Caitria believed us married.”
“That must have been devastating,” Courtney whispered.
“It was,” he admitted. “To discover that the life I’d built was founded on lies…that the mother of my child, a woman I’d loved had deceived me so thoroughly…” He shook his head. “She stole five years of my life where I could have been here, preventing my father’s descent into a dark hole.”
His voice broke slightly. “I never imagined this secret would put you in danger.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me? You thought I couldn’t handle the truth?”
“No,” he said firmly. “I was afraid—terrified—that you would think less of me. That the man you were coming to care for again would be revealed as a fool who couldn’t even recognize when he was being manipulated.” He lowered his head. “I was ashamed.”
“And why was that important?”
Courtney was implying he needed her for her money. “How can you lov—marry a man you don’t respect?”
Courtney’s hand came to rest on his cheek, gently lifting his face to meet her gaze. “Lucien, you were injured. You had no memory. How could anyone blame you for believing what you were told? For trusting the woman who cared for you. I love that about you. How you saw the good in people.”
“Now I distrust everyone. Ava took that from me.” The understanding in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “I should have told you before we became engaged. I almost did, that night in the library. But then you accepted my proposal, and you looked so happy… I couldn’t bear to ruin that moment.”
“And when we got back to London?”
“I was going to tell you this morning. I swear it.” He released a shaky breath.
“But now Lockwood has threatened everything. You, Ava-Marie, my sisters’ futures…
I don’t know how to stop him. Maybe I should take the wind out of his sails and simply announce that I’ve now found out Ava and I were never married. ”
A flash of anger crossed Courtney’s face. “No. We will find a way out of this mess. We have powerful friends. This is not your fault. It’s Lockwood’s. He’s the one using this information to blackmail us.”
“And you were planning to sacrifice yourself,” Lucien said, his voice rough with emotion. “To marry that snake to protect my family. To protect Ava-Marie.”
Her chin lifted slightly. “I would have done whatever was necessary. But I too had a plan of sorts.”
“I beg your pardon?” he demanded, rising to his feet again. “Why would you make such a sacrifice for me? For a child born of another woman? For a man who couldn’t even trust you with the truth?”
“Because I love you,” she said simply, the words hanging in the air between them. “I never stopped loving you, Lucien. Not when I thought you were dead. Not when you returned with no memory of me. Not when I learned about Ava and Ava-Marie. Love isn’t something you can simply turn off like a lamp.”
Her words struck him like a physical blow. He had known, intellectually, that she had loved him before his disappearance. He had suspected she still harbored feelings for him now. But to hear her declare it so openly, so fearlessly, in the face of everything she’d learned…
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“That’s not for you to decide,” she countered, rising to stand before him. “I choose who to give my heart to. And I choose you, Lucien. The man you were, the man you are now—I choose all of you.”
Something broke inside him then—a dam holding back emotions he’d kept tightly controlled since his return to England. Without conscious thought, he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.
“I can’t lose you,” he murmured against her temple. “Not to Lockwood. Not to anyone.”