Chapter 27
The door closed with a soft click that echoed like thunder in Nathaniel's ears.
He stood motionless, listening to the emptiness Jasper Finch had left behind, until his knees finally gave way. He sank into the chair behind his desk, shoulders slumping.
Jasper's words circled in his mind—confessions laced with guilt, twisted justifications, and the hollow sound of a man who knew he had ruined something irreplaceable. Nathaniel pressed a hand to his brow. How could he tell Grace? And Abigail? What words could possibly make this right?
There had never been secrets between him and his wife. Not ever. And this—this was not something to hide. But to tell her that the man who had all but destroyed their daughter had stood in this very study, under the same roof as she and Abigail... it would shake her.
A knock broke the stillness. Philip entered; his expression composed but taut.
"She's settled," he said quietly. "Sophia had woken just as I arrived upstairs. Abigail brought Emmeline into the library, Sophia is sitting with them. I didn't press her for anything else."
Nathaniel nodded his thanks and gestured to the chair across from him. Philip crossed to the bar cart first, poured two tall glasses of whisky, handed one to his father, and then sat down, running a hand through his hair.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
At last, Nathaniel said, "I don't know how to tell your mother. Or Abigail. I've never felt less prepared for anything in my life."
Philip exhaled, leaning forward. "We'll have to. Sooner rather than later."
"Yes," Nathaniel agreed slowly. "And Sophia should be there as well. She has a right to know—Charlotte's schemes touched her as well. Charlotte tried to trap you—lied about losing your child, tried to force a marriage. Jasper believed it all. She deserves to hear the truth."
Philip rubbed a hand across his weary face. "Sophia is already aware of Charlotte's deceit, Father. While the full truth is never pleasant, it won't be a fresh wound for her now, given her condition."
"I find myself unprepared to have this conversation just now," Nathaniel said, his voice weary. "Shall we speak with them tomorrow evening?"
Philip nodded.
The silence stretched again. The hearth crackled.
"She's barely herself again—certainly not the Abigail she was before he married her," Philip said quietly.
"Her words are still rare, only really spoken softly to Emmeline.
With the rest of us, she offers little beyond a yes or no answer.
I fear her seeing him again—hearing his voice—may unravel what little progress she's made. "
"She might retreat," Nathaniel finished, voice low. "Back to where she was when we brought her home from Greystone. From the place he left her."
Philip nodded grimly. "Jasper's revenge was thorough. He broke her heart... and so much more."
Midday the following day, Nathaniel and Philip sat on opposite sides of the study desk, poring over accounting reports. A firm knock broke their focus. The butler entered, carrying a sealed envelope on a silver tray.
Nathaniel took it, recognizing the handwriting even before unfolding the paper.
Lord Nathaniel—
You said we would all speak again. You said there would be a time.
I am writing now to ask that the time come soon. I know I have no right to demand anything—but I beg you, grant me the chance to speak with her.
She deserves the truth. More than anyone, she deserves to hear it from me—what happened, and why. She deserves my apology, offered to her directly, not through whispers or second-hand accounts.
I would kneel, beg, endure whatever wrath you see fit if only she might hear the words from my own lips.
As you know, I have leased a house nearby. I've included the address below should it be needed.
Please—do not wait too long. I may not deserve forgiveness, but I would endure any punishment if it means she hears me say the words myself.
—Jasper Finch
Nathaniel folded the letter and placed it on his desk.
"It's from him," he said. "He wants to see her. Soon."
Philip's jaw tensed. "Then we need to speak with Mother and Sophia sooner than we planned."
They exited the office and made their way to the morning room. Nathaniel asked a passing footman to summon Grace and Sophia and have them meet them there.
Sophia came first, summoned from the library where she'd dozed off mid-reading, her pregnancy still draining her energy. Grace followed shortly after, her eyes scanning Nathaniel's face with concern. Both women took seats beside their respective husbands.
"What's happened?" Grace asked at once. "You look as though you've just heard dreadful news."
Nathaniel hesitated only a breath. Then, simply: "Jasper was here yesterday."
Gasps met his words.
Grace's hand flew to her mouth. "What?"
Sophia gripped the arm of the settee she shared with Philip. 'He came here. To this house?'"
Nathaniel nodded. "He spoke with Philip and I. He... explained himself. Claimed he believed the lies his sister told—about Philip's supposed promises to her, about a child lost after his rejection. He thought he was exacting justice."
Grace's eyes filled. "So he used our daughter to do it?"
Philip's voice was low and tight. "He confessed. Plainly. I wanted to throttle him. But Father sent me out when Abigail knocked on the offices' closed door. We didn't want her to see him."
Sophia's voice trembled. "And now?"
Nathaniel retrieved the letter. "He's written. He wants to see her. He's leased a house nearby, only minutes away. Says he wants to speak in truth."
Grace turned to her husband. "He doesn't know about Emmeline?"
"No," Nathaniel replied. "Not yet. But he will. And when he does..."
Sophia murmured, "He could take her. Abigail too. He has the law on his side."
The room stilled.
"No," Philip said firmly. "He might have a legal claim. But he will not take her. I swear it."
Grace's eyes found Nathaniel's. "What do we do?"
Nathaniel looked down at the letter. "We tell Abigail. Carefully. Gently. Together. And if she agrees to see him—it will be here. On our terms."
"And if she refuses?" Sophia asked.
Philip's answer came without hesitation.
"Then we protect her. With everything we have.
But the law... the law is not on our side.
He didn't strike her. There's no evidence of any grievous offence a court would consider sufficient to keep her from him.
As her husband, he had the right to send her away.
Just as he now reserves the right to demand that she—and their daughter—reside with him, should he choose to exercise it. "
Nathaniel stood and quietly asked a servant to fetch Abigail.
She entered a few minutes later, Emmeline in her arms. She sat silently, holding her daughter tightly.
Grace, her voice tender, began. "Abigail, love... something has happened. Jasper came to Bramblewick yesterday."
Abigail didn't move, but her arms tightened around Emmeline.
Philip added gently, "He's been looking for you. He learned you left Greystone. He... wishes to speak with you."
Abigail was silent for a long time. Then, in a soft, hollow voice:
"I don't know why."
She looked down at Emmeline, brushing a lock of hair from her brow.
"He told me I was too quiet. Too plain to be his Duchess. That I embarrassed him."
Her voice cracked.
"He said I wasn't worth the effort. Told me not to say another word. Then he left me there."
Her tone was not bitter—only confused, as if trying to understand a wound long scarred over.
It was the first time they had heard anything directly from Abigail about what had happened after her wedding to Jasper.
They had made assumptions, of course. Mrs. Rigby had filled in some of the gaps, and she had let them know all of what had occurred during her time at Greystone.
But Abigail had never spoken of what Jasper had said or done before he left her.
The assumptions, the silences, all of it shifted as the raw truth finally broke free.
Nathaniel could not speak. Not yet. The ghosts Jasper left behind were not so easily exorcised. But his hands were tied— Jasper remained her husband, though he was entirely unworthy of the role.
The room eventually emptied; each person lost in thought.
That night, Nathaniel sat at his desk, candlelight flickering as he composed a letter.
Mr. Finch—
Come to Bramblewick tomorrow at noon. Abigail will decide what is to be said, and if it is to be said at all. You will abide by our terms, or you will not speak to her at all.
-Lord Nathaniel Browning
He folded it, sealing it with a heavy sigh.
Sleep evaded him and Grace both that night. They lay beside one another in silence, hands entwined, whispering their fears into the dark.
.