“It’s a long story,” he said, taking a sip of Mr. Braeburn’s whiskey, “so I will tell only avery condensed version of it.“Mrs. Marsden and I grew up on adjacent properties in the Cotswold. But the Cotswold, asfair as it is, plays almost no part in this tale. Because it was not in the green, unpollutedcountryside that we fell in love, but in gray, sooty London. Love at first sight, of course, ahunger of the soul that could not be denied.”Bryony trembled somewhere inside. This was not their story, but her story, the determinedspinster felled by the magnificence and charm of the gorgeous young thing.He glanced at her. “You were the moon of my existence; your moods dictated the tides ofmy heart.”The tides of her own heart surged at his words, even though his words were nothing butlies.“I don’t believe I had moods,” she said severely.“No, of course not. ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate’—and the tides of my heartonly rose ever higher to crash against the levee of my self-possession. For I loved you mostintemperately, my dear Mrs. Marsden.”Beside her Mrs. Braeburn blushed, her eyes bright. Bryony was furious at Leo, for hisfacile words, and even more so at herself, for the painful pleasure that trickled into her dropby drop.“Our wedding was the happiest hour of my life, that we would belong to each other always.The church was filled with hyacinths and camellias, and the crowd overflowed to the steps,for the whole world wanted to see who had at last captured your lofty heart.“But alas, I had not truly captured your lofty heart, had I? I but held it for a moment. Andsoon there was trouble in Paradise. One day, you said to me, ‘My hair has turned white. It is asign I must wander far and away. Find me then, if you can. Then and only then will I be yoursagain.’”Her heart pounded again. How did he know that she had indeed taken her hair turning whiteas a sign that the time had come for her to leave? No, he did not know. He’d made it up out ofwhole cloth. But even Mr. Braeburn was spellbound by this ridiculous tale. She had forgottenhow hypnotic Leo could be, when he wished to beguile a crowd.“And so I have searched. From the poles to the tropics, from the shores of China to theshores of Nova Scotia. Our wedding photograph in hand, I have asked crowds pale, red,brown, and black, ‘I seek an English lady doctor, my lost beloved. Have you seen her?’”He looked into her eyes, and she could not look away, as mesmerized as the haplessBraeburns.“And now I have found you at last.” He raised his glass. “To the beginning of the rest ofour lives.”

“He glanced at her. “You were the moon of my existence; your moods dictated the tides of my heart.”The tides of her own heart surged at his words, even though his words were nothing but lies.”

“Mr. Robbins let slip that he had not beensleeping well. He’d given up his room at the lodging house to a lady traveling by herself,who’d come into Nowshera too tired to stand, when Nowshera was overrun and bedsimpossible to find. When the lady left, the landlord had given the room to someone else,leaving Mr. Robbins to sleep in rather atrocious places.”“Dear me,” said Lady Vera.“He didn’t know it, but that lady was Mrs. Marsden. And I, for one, will always be gratefulthat he helped her when there was absolutely nothing in it for him.”Lady Vera set down her tea. She reached forward and took Leo’s hands. “Thank you, Mr.Marsden. Sometimes I forget that beneath Michael’s ambition, there is not a void, but muchkindness. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Now what I want to know is what happened when you found Bryony, Leo,” said Will.“Did you just say your sister sent me, pack up everything and come with me this moment?”“More or less.”“And she came away with you?”“More or less.” Leo tossed Bryony a mischievous look. “Although there might have beenlaudanum, drugging, and a midnight abduction involved.”“Now that’s a much better story,” said Matthew. “I would pay to read that one.”“And for his knavery, Leo lost one of his—more important parts,” said Bryony.“No!” Matthew and Will shouted in unison.“Bryony!” Callista squeaked.“Kidney,” Leo cried. “It was just a kidney. A man can live a perfectly vigorous life withone kidney.”“You can call it a kidney if you want,” said Bryony.”

“Clare could bear this no longer. His eyes were full of tears, which seemed like drops of molten lead. He bade a quick good-night to these sincere and simple souls whom he loved so well; who knew neither the world, the flesh, or the devil in their own hearts; only as something vague and external to themselves. He went to his own chamber.His mother followed him, and tapped at his door. Clare opened it to discover her standing without, with anxious eyes. "Angel," she asked, "is there something wrong that you must go away so soon? I am quite certain you are not yourself.""I am not, quite, mother," said he."About her? Now, my son, I know it is that--I know it is about her! Have you quarreled in these three weeks?""We have not exactly quarreled," he said. "But we have had a difference--""Angel--is she a young woman whose history will bear investigation?"With a mother's instinct Mrs. Clare had put her finger on the kind of trouble that would cause such a disquiet as seemed to agitate her son. "She is spotless!" he replied; and he felt that if it had sent him to eternal hell there and then he would have told that lie. ”

“Even they would think you a monster were you toorchestrate a divorce right after my confinement.”“How long do you recommend I wait, then?”“A long time. I know what happens when a divorce is granted:The woman never gets anything. And I will not be parted from my child.”“So you will contest the divorce?”“To my last penny. And then I’ll borrow from Fitz and Millie.”“So we’ll be married ’til the end of time?”“The sooner you accept it, the sooner we are all better off.”His ancestors would have appreciated her hauteur: a fit wife for a de Montfort. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must have enough rest.”He gazed at her retreating back. Foolish woman, did she not realize that he’d already accepted it from the moment he’d said “I do”?”

“It is not your time, love. You will not die tonight.All this time she thought herself in love with the notion of Death. His gallantry, his beautiful soul. She believed he loved her because he had spared her from his grip. But it had not been Death, but Black.“Why?” she asked, and her body shook, knowing his sacrifice, knowing he knew her most guarded secret.“Because I loved you,” he murmured. “I couldn’t let you go, because I knew I could no longer see you, I couldn’t live, either.”Black had risked his life to save her from taking her own.He rose, helped her up and clutched her in his arms. “It is too soon for you to make your decision,” he said. “Come to me when you know what you want. My wishes will remain unchanged.”“What do you want?”He kissed her, pressed her body into his hot, hard one. “To be inside you. To lay you out and touch you with my hands, my mouth and tongue. I want to slip deep inside you and never leave. I want to wake up in the morning and open my eyes to find you lying there next to me. I want to look at my children and see you in their little faces.”“Jude,” she whispered, holding him, weakening.“But I want you to want that as much as I do, Isabella.”“We have too many secrets,” she began. “Our pasts…”“Secrets, like passion, are meant to be spent. I will bear all my sins, all my secrets, when you come to me. It’s all I can offer. You see, little love, I’m afraid, too, but the difference between us is that I believe it’s worth it to face that fear if it means that I’ll have you.”