Chapter Eighteen #2
Rosalind closed the door behind her and stood before Devlin, her heart pounding in her chest. She could hardly look him in the eyes. “You may not want to marry me,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Devlin’s head tilted slightly, and his brow furrowed. He stepped closer, reaching for her hand, but she pulled it away.
“Rosalind, nothing could ever change my mind about you. I love you.”
She shook her head, her fingers twisting the fabric of her gown at her neck, “You don’t understand. You think you know me, but you don’t. You don’t know what I’ve done, Devlin. I… I lied to you. I’ve lied the entire time you and Alden have been here.”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. There was no anger and no surprise. He started to speak, but Rosalind cut him off. She was unable to stop.
“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” she asked, her voice thick with emotion. “You knew I was there… when Edmond died.”
Devlin was silent for a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the delicate silver locket. He held it between his fingers, and Rosalind’s breath caught in her throat.
“I found it,” he said softly, “in Edmond’s hand when I pulled him from the bog.
I knew that you were there. You knew what happened to him, and you kept that from me.
Yes, you lied to me, Rosalind, but you lied to protect yourself and the children.
You were in an impossible situation. What were you supposed to do? ”
Angry tears welled up in her eyes and her teeth clenched with her anger and shame. But she brushed the tears away with a swipe of her hand, squared her shoulders and faced Devlin, ready for whatever happened next.
“Stop!” she yelled. “Stop being so understanding! You don’t know! It’s so much worse than you think,” she managed to say, her voice now barely above a whisper.
“Tell me,” he urged, his voice low and steady. “Whatever it is, Rosalind, tell me.”
Rosalind took a deep breath, the memory of that night crashing over her like a wave. “I didn’t just lie to you,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I killed him. I murdered Edmond.”
Devlin’s expression still didn’t change—he remained still. He said nothing, only waited.
Rosalind’s whole body started to shake; her words tumbled out in a flood of emotion. “That night…the night he disappeared, Edmond had beaten me. Severely. I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I ran. I took my horse, and I rode, not knowing where I was going—just away from him.”
She paused, her breath ragged, the memory of Edmond’s violence still fresh in her mind. Devlin stood motionless, listening.
“Edmond followed me. He wasn’t far behind.
But he didn’t know the land as well as I did.
He took the wrong path, the one that leads into the mire.
His horse got stuck. Edmond had either fallen off or dismounted, sinking up to his belly in the muck.
I rode on, leaving him there. I didn’t care what happened to him at that moment.
I was just so desperate to get away.” Rosalind’s voice faltered and she swallowed hard, the weight of her next words almost too much to bear.
“But I turned back. I don’t know why. Perhaps a part of me wanted to help him.
When I returned, I found my uncle struggling to free himself.
He was sinking. His horse was gone, and he was alone…
terrified.” Her voice wavered, tears streaming down her cheeks as she forced herself to continue.
“I tried to help him. I didn’t have a rope, so I reached for him, but he cursed me, Devlin.
He cursed me like he’d never before. He said I’d regret running from him.
He grabbed me and snagged my locket, trying to pull me down with him. ”
Devlin’s gaze darkened, and his grip on the locket tightened, but still, he said nothing.
Rosalind’s voice dropped to a whisper; the words almost too painful to speak.
“And so, I stopped trying. I backed away. I watched him sink further into the mire. I let him drown. I could’ve saved him, but I didn’t.
I left him there to die. He screamed after me, Devlin, over and over, but I never looked back.
I rode back to the manor. I acted as though nothing had happened. ”
Silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. Rosalind’s heart pounded in her chest, and her pulse beat in her ears. She waited for Devlin to say something—anything.
“You… let him die.”
Rosalind nodded, tears streaming freely down her face now. “Yes.”
For a moment, Devlin remained still, his gaze locked on hers as though weighing the gravity of her confession. The silence stretched between them, unbearable, until finally, Devlin took a step toward her.
“You didn’t murder him, Rosalind. You survived him. He was a monster, and you did the only thing you could to save yourself and protect the children. You said he beat you badly before you ran. Had he got free, he may have killed you the next time.”
Rosalind blinked in disbelief. “But I let him die, Devlin. I could’ve saved him, and I didn’t.”
Devlin gently took her hand, his touch warm and grounding.
“Rosalind, I would have done the same. No, I would have done worse. I would have sat at the water’s edge, toasted his upcoming demise with a mug of ale, and wished him a merry journey into Hell.
Anyone who knew the truth of what he did to you would understand.
You did what you had to do, and I don’t blame you.
Nothing you’ve told me changes how I feel about you. ”
She stared at him, her heart filled with a mixture of relief and disbelief. “You don’t hate me?”
“I could never hate you,” Devlin whispered, pulling her into his arms. “I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”
Rosalind wept into his chest; the years of living in fear and the guilt and shame of that horrible night finally lifted. In Devlin’s embrace, she was truly safe, and nothing would ever take that from her.
The tears flowed loudly and freely for some time, but once her sobs quieted, she lifted her head from his now wet shirt. She thought she saw several tear-glistened black lashes.
“You will never repeat what you just told me, Rosalind. I believe in my heart that you did what you had to do, but we are not sure everyone would feel the same. Does anyone else know?”
Rosalind shook her head, “No one but me, and now you.”
“Good. We will keep it that way.”
Then Devlin gifted her with a rare smile. “Now, let’s go downstairs. We have a wedding to plan.”
Rosalind smiled widely, and he continued with a mischievous grin.
“And there will be no long engagement as I won’t be waiting long to be with you, Rosalind.” He leaned down, and his mouth crushed hers in a long, warm kiss.
Rosalind couldn’t agree more.
****
Benton watched his happy family. Rosalind had returned to the great hall with her husband-to-be.
Soon she and Marta were planning a wedding and a return to Rosalind’s estate.
The children looked happier than he’d ever seen them and everyone talked, laughed, and played until the late hours of the night.
Once the household had retired to their chambers and the manor fell silent, Benton poured himself a goblet of wine and settled before the roaring fire. As the wine and the warmth of the fire soothed his aching body, his mind returned to the night of Edmond’s disappearance.
His aging body had moved faster than usual, and his joints screamed with every step he made toward the stables. He knew he had to hurry. Tonight was different. Edmond was angrier than he’d ever seen him, and Rosalind once again bore the brunt of his dangerous mood.
Rosalind rode out like the devil chased her and Edmond followed. He trailed behind them, unseen, unheard, his old heart heavy with worry. Rosalind headed toward the bog. She knew the route well but it was dangerous at night.
At last, he reached the edge of the marsh and spotted Edmond.
The lord was half-submerged in the mire, hurling curses and shouting for help.
His eyes widened in surprise when Rosalind returned.
She first hesitated at the edge of the muck, but then she waded in and reached out, yelling at him to grab her hand.
Edmond’s words were vile, hateful, filled with threats.
The old man’s jaw clenched. Edmond had never deserved her.
Then he saw it—the moment Rosalind made her decision. The compassion for her drowning uncle was snuffed out like a candle in a brisk wind, and now she possessed a look of pity and sad resignation. She stepped back, and watched as Edmond struggled, sinking deeper into the thick, unforgiving mud.
He understood what this meant. Rosalind turned, struggling to get out of the mire, and once clear she rode back into the night as Edmond disappeared beneath the surface, his curses finally silenced forever.
He waited until she was gone before stepping forward.
It was his duty to protect the Capell family.
His breath was heavy, his limbs aching, but his mind was clear.
He knew what had to be done. Rosalind had done what any woman in her place would have—she had survived.
But now, there was a body to deal with, and if it was found, there would be questions.
Too many questions.
Slowly, he waded into the bog, grimacing as the mud sucked at his boots.
All that could be seen of Edmond was one forearm floating above the black water.
It took all his strength to pull the dead weight free from the shallow sink where it had lodged.
He winced at Edmond’s face, twisted in a grotesque snarl even in death.
He sighed as he looked down at Edmond. The night was thick around him, the air damp and cold, but he moved with purpose. He worked in silence, his old bones protesting with every movement, but his resolve never wavered. He gathered heavy stones that would sink the man in the deeper end of the bog.
Satisfied he’d added enough rocks to do the job, he pushed the body farther out into the water. He watched as Edmond disappeared.
The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn by the time Benton mounted his horse again. He rode back to the manor in silence. What he had done would remain a secret. What he had done, he had done for the family—for Rosalind and for the Capell family name.
As the manor came into view, he straightened his back and rode through the gates. No one would ever know what had happened that night. Rosalind would be safe. The family would endure, as it always had.
He dismounted slowly, his body aching with every step, and returned to his quarters. He washed the mud from his hands and changed his clothes. His heart was heavy, but he had no regrets.
This was his duty, after all.