Chapter Thirty-Five #3
heart to Greystone, younger than me when she had married the wrong man. For years, I’d lived in terror of making those same
mistakes, of losing my heart to someone who would crush it in his fist and cage me.
But that was not this man, and I was not Mama. This was my life.
“After she died, I vowed I would never let myself be brought back to that state of fear and uncertainty,” Hugh said. “But
now I live it every day; the sight of you in the morning brings the sweetest joy of my life and the worst dread. Speaking
to you fills me with equal parts longing and despair. Kissing you is the purest form of pleasure and torment I know. Because
anything might happen to you, and I might not be able to prevent it. It would rip the heart from my chest. I can hardly stand
it.” He shook his head, his jaw setting with anger again. “I’m sorry. That was too much to burden you with.”
“It’s not a burden to understand you,” I said.
He released a shaky breath, pressing his free hand to his face.
“I feel the same way,” I told him. “That uncertainty is love.”
He stilled at the word, as if afraid he had misheard me.
“It’s only strengthened by choosing to face it,” I continued. “You can’t control my fate any more than you can control who
you love.”
“I don’t accept that,” he said. His expression was surly enough that it squeezed a laugh from me.
Seized by the impulse, I leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to the rigid line of his jaw. Kissing him there again and again,
until I felt it relax. He turned to me, lowering his head to rest against my temple. I closed my eyes, too, taking comfort
in the feel of his soft, warm breath on my cheek.
Alive. Both of us.
“Let me help you,” I whispered. “Whatever you have planned tonight, let me help you. Nothing will happen to me as long as
I am with you.”
He sighed. “All of this has happened to you because of me.”
I pulled back with a tart look. “I’ll thank you to remember that I am perfectly capable of getting into trouble on my own—though, yes, you’ve rather done this to yourself, haven’t you?”
He let out a little chuckle. The sound warmed the parts of my heart his story had battered. “And I will gladly pay the price
of it until you decide you’d like to be rid of me.”
I let out a noncommittal “Hmm.”
He chuckled again, pressing a kiss to my palm. The heat of his lips burned through the satin.
“I suppose it’s only fair to ask your assistance, as you’ve inspired this plan,” he began. “Make ’em think you’re going for
the wallet when you’re really after the shiny fob, wasn’t it?”
I tilted my face up toward his, questioning.
Hugh smoothed a loose curl back from my cheek.
“But, Viola, it’s dangerous. You’re already going to suffer the cruelty of the Patricians, and then to ask this of you—”
I smiled. “Tell me everything.”
And so, he did. At the end of his carefully outlined plans, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Yes?” Hugh called, twisting around. I was still staring at him in amazement when Mrs. Silver opened the door.
“Oh, ma chère!” she said as she saw me. She shook herself, as if refocusing herself. “I thought you should know: I finally have
a response from my sister.”
Hugh stood at once, retrieving the missive from her outstretched hand. His brow furrowed as he read through it.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
He passed it back to Mrs. Silver, who raised her brows.
“Mrs. Silver’s sister married a Gallian vicomte some years back,” Hugh explained, his expression still distant with thought.
“She writes that the court has been both surprised and delighted by the news of our King’s poisoning. They are looking for
ways to use the instability to their advantage and make overtures to Glenmoor as regent.”
It took me a moment to understand. “You’re saying they had no idea our King would be poisoned? They weren’t part of Glenmoor’s
plans from the start?”
“That is what it seems,” Mrs. Silver said, tucking the letter back into her apron. “She would not have written unless she
was certain.”
Hugh rubbed his thumb along the edge of his top lip. “So Glenmoor has acted alone.”
“Not alone,” I reminded him as I rose. “He is working with the DeForests.”
Mrs. Silver clucked her tongue. “They were ruined. What could possibly motivate them?”
Hell’s tits. The answer blazed through my mind, so obvious in retrospect. I met Hugh’s gaze and saw that he had come to the same conclusion.
“The House of Rosebourne,” I said. “Its ownership is unsettled as it moves through the courts. My—William Rosebourne wrote
in his journal that they attempted an underhanded takeover years ago. It would be the perfect revenge to seize the legacy
of the man who destroyed theirs.”
“It would allow them to simply step back into the business, using the Rosebourne framework already in place,” Hugh agreed.
“If Glenmoor is able to grant them ownership over the House of Rosebourne, they’ll be all too pleased to supply him with an
endless array of magic perfumes.”
I smoothed down my skirt with a huff of annoyance and started for the door.
“Viola?” Hugh called after me.
“I’m going to gather what we’ll need tonight,” I told him. “And then we’re ending this.”