Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The world lurched. Ianthe curled sleepily into strong arms, dreaming of endless gardens where she could never quite find what she was looking for.
There was a moment of uncertainty as she blinked, then opened her eyes.
Candlelight greeted her, along with a glimpse of the hallway in her home.
She was in Lucien's arms, her cheek resting on the velvet lapel of his coat.
"Awake?" he murmured.
"Yes."
Lucien set her down gently, and Ianthe wobbled like a newborn lamb, her strength weakened by the toll of the night's exertions.
"Where is Louisa?" she asked.
"Safe," he replied in a hushed tone. "Upstairs in bed."
"I need to see her." Panic flared. She couldn't believe her daughter was truly there until she saw it with her own eyes.
"Ianthe—"
"Please," she whispered.
He seemed to read her mind with one glance. "This way," he said, without another word and led her upstairs.
"I have to fetch something first," she told him, swiftly disappearing into her own rooms and coming out moments later with something in her hand.
Lucien hesitated at the door to Louisa's room.
"Are you coming in?" she asked.
"Would I be welcome here?"
"Of course you'd be welcome—"
"I'm not her father, not to her. All she knows is another man. My own daughter doesn't know me, and whose..." Lucien broke off with a curse.
"Whose fault is that?" Ianthe whispered, the words tasting dry in her throat.
Lucien searched for the right words. "That's not what I meant to say."
"No?"
"We're both tired. This isn't a conversation we should be having in these circumstances. We'll discuss it in the morning," he murmured, then turned and strode away. "I need to have a bath."
Ianthe clung to the teddy bear in her hands, watching him go. She wouldn't cry. She would not. But those words had crushed a small piece of her.
You have earned his scorn, something whispered in her mind.
"Well, what do you think?" Louisa's voice drew her attention, from inside the room.
"I think the bad lady and her friends had best consider fleeing for the Continent before your aunt decides to finish matters" –that was Remy– "as she's very angry with them."
"The bad lady said that Aunt Ianthe's not my aunt," Louisa whispered, and there she was, tucked up in bed, as Ianthe peered through the narrow crack. "They said that she's my mother. That she didn't want me and gave me away to Elsa and Jacob to raise me."
"What do you think?"
Louisa's voice grew small. "I know she's my mother. Elsa told me a year ago, but I don't think she didn't want me. She wouldn't have come for me if she didn't, would she?"
God bless Remington, but he leaned down, his elbows resting on the bed, and cupped Louisa's hands within his.
"Your mother would have moved Heaven and Hell to get you back, because she loves you.
I think she loved you enough to find some wonderful parents for you when she realized she couldn't look after you as well as they could, not when she was so young. "
Ianthe had to clear her throat. That bitch. Of all the things that Morgana could have done, making Louisa feel that she was unloved was at the top of the list.
Remington's dark eyes raked over Ianthe as he heard the noise she made. "And now, if you'll excuse me, princess, I believe someone else wants a word with you."
Louisa's pale face turned toward her. Ianthe's heart both bloomed and sank within her chest. Remington patted Ianthe on the shoulder as he went out, but she barely saw him. Louisa filled her world.
"Hello," she whispered, taking one step toward the bed.
And then Louisa bolted out of the covers and threw herself at Ianthe, her thin arms wrapping around Ianthe's waist.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "So sorry, Lou."
Louisa wiped away her tears. "I knew you'd come and save me. I waited every night for you."
A rush of heat crawled up her throat, and she dragged the little girl in tight, rocking her faintly. "I'll always come for you. If you believe nothing else, then believe that. I love you with all of my heart, Lou."
Louisa lifted her worried face. "What happened to mama? And papa? Mr. Cross wouldn't tell me."
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, brushing the hair off her daughter's forehead.
"There was nothing I could do for them when I found them.
They had gone to Heaven, to live with the angels.
I paid some men to have them both buried in the churchyard of St. Mary's—you know, the one with the roses that Elsa liked so much? And then I came looking for you."
The little girl rested her head on Ianthe's shoulder, looking like she was fresh out of tears. Those big blue eyes were red and swollen and brokenhearted. "What about Tubby?" she whispered.
Ianthe lay them both down on the bed, curling up beside her daughter. "He's safe. The O'Brien's are looking after him. Once this is all done, I'll take you home to fetch him." Reaching down, she pulled the gift from her pocket. "I do have something I've been keeping safe for you, however."
Louisa's eyes grew wide as she sighted the teddy bear. "Hilary!" she cried, and dragged the ragged bear to her chest as if it were the lifeline she so badly needed.
For the first time, Ianthe felt like she might not be so hopeless at this after all.
After Louisa fell asleep, Ianthe went looking for Lucien. Matters might be able to keep until morning, according to him, but she was certain she wouldn't sleep a wink. Not until she'd apologized.
She found him in the bathing chamber off his room and knocked lightly at the door. Lucien was shaving his jaw by the mirror, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his lean waist. Burns marked his back from the blast of sorcery earlier.
He paused.
"I know you don't want to speak to me just now," Ianthe said, shutting the door behind her, with a lump in her throat.
"Just hear me out, please. I need to apologize.
... for everything. For not telling you that you had a daughter, for not telling you.
.. about the trouble I was in. I'm so sorry," she whispered, unable to look him in the eye anymore.
"I didn't know what to do. I didn't know—"
"If I were ally or enemy."
She nodded, her shoulders slumping. Lou was safe. But there were consequences to pay now. Tears made her vision blur. What was she going to tell Drake? How could she ever atone for this?
"I don't blame you for drugging me, or for not trusting me.
All of the foolish things I've been saying these past few days.
.. Why would you not believe them—that I meant to take my revenge upon you?
" With a sigh, he stared down into the basin of water, his hands resting on the vanity.
"I never meant any of them, you realize?
" Finally, he looked up, the lance of his amber gaze burning through her.
"That was my pride speaking. I was angry at you for your part in my incarceration—" he held up his hand as she moved to speak "—an incarceration which was duly earned.
You were only doing what you were asked to do by your superior, and I was a danger to society at that stage.
But my recent anger was merely a shield, an attempt to protect myself.
Every day, every hour, I find myself yearning toward you. And I didn't like it one bit."
There was simply nothing to say to that. Nothing at all.
Lucien dragged a towel over his face, patting his cheeks dry. "I also owe you an apology. I spoke rashly before in the hallway." His tone softened. "You did not deserve those words."
"I— What?" Of all the things she'd expected, this was not one of them. "I don't quite follow you."
Lucien raked his hands through his hair as he turned to survey the room.
Each movement was brusque, like a caged bull suddenly released, aware of its close confines and trying desperately not to destroy all of the dainty furniture.
"Yes, I'm angry. I won't deny that, but I have been thinking of what it would have been like for a young, unmarried woman of seventeen to find herself with child.
From the little you've spoken of your father, I can't imagine he would have been pleased, and.
.." Lucien let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ianthe.
You dealt as best you could with circumstances no young woman should ever have to deal with.
I cannot judge you. I have no right to judge you.
Please accept my humble apologies for my earlier words.
I allowed my own feelings of abandonment, perhaps, to speak. It was wrong of me."
The entire world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Thank you." The words were but a whisper. The truth of it, however, blazed across her heart, pouring pure sunshine through her veins.
If she dared believe it...
"I keep thinking of my father," he admitted, sinking down onto the edge of the bath and folding his hands in his lap.
He looked down, dark hair falling forward across his face.
"Of how I have hated him for what he did to me.
I blamed him for not being there, and I told myself he could have tried harder.
If he'd wanted me, he could have used his power to take me from Lord Rathbourne and raise me as his own.
The entire time I was in Bedlam, I felt like an animal, poked and prodded by its keepers, and shunned as mad.
And he put me there! He put me there, Ianthe.
What other proof did I need? I hated him.
Or maybe... Maybe I hated myself? Because I felt, deep in my heart, that I wasn't good enough for him.
" His head bowed. "All I could think of was Louisa looking at me and feeling exactly how I felt—that her father didn't want her. "