Chapter Fourteen #2
“What happened inside wasn’t your fault.” When she tried to brush her gloved hands along the side of his face where he’d caught the fist, he flinched away.
“I rather believe it is.” While agony squeezed his chest and beat on his heart, Dante shook his head.
“I did those things. I killed those men,” he admitted in a low voice while peering into the sapphire depths of her eyes where naught but compassion dwelled.
“My past is riddled with murder and horrible things. I’ll never be free of it, and what’s more, if I continue to take projects and missions with the Home Office, these things that are tearing me apart will never heal. They will only fester.”
That was the bald truth.
“That is probably a good assumption. However, the past is the past. There is nothing you can do about it except forgive yourself.” Briefly, she held her bottom lip between her teeth, and when she released it, she asked, “Do you still work with the Home Office?”
“I do, on a case-by-case basis. My last mission was three months ago.” He shrugged. Why couldn’t he be someone else entirely? “They pay me well, always match the fee I charge for my clandestine services, which is why I don’t need to always be in the field.”
“How interesting.” She led him along the pavement toward the carriage. “That must make you feel proud or the very least, needed. And you must have skills in covert killing.”
“Unfortunately.” Not wishing to take her arm, for touching her in any capacity would distract him, Dante continued to let sorrow and anguish have at him.
“Does it make me feel proud? Perhaps, but since I now have a wife to take care of, I needs must bring in some sort of an income. However, no matter what I do in my present, people will only remember me for what I did in the past. I am a killer; I am the man who destroyed so many lives. Yours included.”
“That’s not true, and I have already forgiven you. Knowing what I do now and why you did it, I see my brother in a new light. During war, there are many layers and all of them are quite murky.” She blew out a breath. “Alan should have been truthful.”
“I should have been that from the outset. It would have prevented our marriage.”
A gasp escaped her. “You think our marriage was a mistake even if we were forced into it?” Disappointment reflected in her eyes. “You are sorry we said vows to each other?”
Oh, God.
He put a hand on his chest, dug his fingers into the various layers of clothing over his heart.
“No, of course not, but you know, deep down, when people meet me and realize who I am, that they’ll think poorly of me, and by extension, you.
“I can’t bear that either.” Gazing straight ahead, he continued toward the carriage.
“You deserve everything good in this life. I am not that.”
And I never will be.
“Broderick Dante Cunningham, look at me.” There was a note of command in her voice. Anne’s hand on his arm stayed his footsteps on the pavement.
Despite the foot traffic, he turned toward her. “You used my full name. It must be serious.” Though he wished to grin, for she was like a breath of fresh air, he couldn’t, for he was drowning in the darkness of his soul.
“Well, I feel you won’t listen otherwise.
” When she stamped a foot in apparent frustration, one side of his mouth twitched.
“You are not your past; I am not mine. It’s not fair to judge you on what you did without knowing the full story around it or the circumstances therein.
I wasn’t there when Alan died; I can’t say who was correct on that night.
” She shrugged. “The past should stay there, because every year forward means we are all growing and changing. You aren’t the same man you were then. ”
“How can you say that when you know I still work with the Home Office?”
“I don’t.” The look she gave was wry. “However, I am choosing to trust you. Since you have managed to change my mind about you, then you can change others’ minds as well.”
“What?” Shock slammed through him, temporarily displacing the self-disgust. “You have changed your mind about me?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “The more I know about you, the more I can see your struggle. Forgive yourself, Broderick, and do better. You’re wracked with guilt and pain, but yet you are here, striving to be a good man.”
“Well, as good as a man like me can be.”
“Don’t discount any effort. If you were truly the man you were in the past, you wouldn’t be standing here with me. You wouldn’t have married me. You wouldn’t be making an effort.” She squeezed his arm. “Keep being the man I know you can be. Show the world who you are when no one is watching.”
That made sense. “What if I’m not a decent man? What if I’m too far gone for that?” What if he was never absolved for what he’d done?
“I can’t answer that.” She offered him a small smile.
“You’ll have to move forward with that knowledge.
Sometimes things can’t be forgotten, but you can own what you’ve done and promise yourself that you won’t repeat those things.
You can put good things out into the world in the hopes of cancelling out the bad. ”
Slowly, he nodded as the snow continued to fall. “What if the burden is too much to bear?” A ball of emotion lodged in his throat, and he nearly cried out. “I’m so tired, Anne.”
“I know.” She came close to him, laid a palm against his cheek. “You can lean on me for a time until your strength returns. I am not going anywhere.”
That provided minimal comfort. “And in the meantime? How should I make a living?”
“Only you can decide that.”
“Would you hate me if I continued clandestine operations?” It was a lucrative business, and there were always threats to England.
“I don’t know, but that is my cross to bear. I only want you to be safe and able to feel proud of yourself each morning.”
It was a simple answer, and he appreciated that.
Despite being in public and despite not being proper, he took her into his arms and kissed her soundly.
And quite thoroughly. When she offered him a bright smile, his chest tightened, but not with self-loathing.
With her by his side, he felt more whole than he had before.
He wasn’t perfect, and probably never would be, but he was honest.
“Shall we go for tea now, Mrs. Cunningham? I rather feel for some hot tea and sweets before I take you home and make you heated in a very different way.” Then he winked at her.
A blush seeped into her cheeks. “That sounds like a lovely plan.”
“Good.” Quickly, he ushered her toward the carriage.
Would these plans be enough to keep her? Would she wake up one day and realize he was naught but rubbish and a broken man too far gone?
I’m going to fight to make sure that doesn’t happen.