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Chapter Twenty-Four

S omething in him snapped.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t thunderous. It was silent, a shifting of earth beneath stone, a fault line giving way. All the walls he had spent years constructing, all that logic, iron restraint, that quiet fortress of grief he never let crumble, began to fall apart, one careful stone at a time.

She had kissed his cheek. Not because she had to. Not out of duty or politeness or some wifely obligation. She had done it like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if he deserved affection.

He had spent years convincing himself that he could not ever feel this.

That love was too great a risk. That the heart he’d once given freely had already been burned to ash when his parents and brother were taken.

That loving again meant risking ruin again.

But then she had held him and kissed him and laughed as she left him behind.

And now, Robert could not sit still.

He pushed back from his desk with sudden purpose, the chair skidding quietly across the rug. His long strides carried him across the room in seconds, out the study door, down the hall where her laughter still echoed faintly.

He didn’t think. He ran .

She had just turned the corner at the top of the stairs when he caught her.

“Evelyn…”

She turned, surprised. A question lingered in her eyes, but before she could speak, he was there.

His hands slid around her waist, drawing her into him.

He bent, without any hesitation now, and pressed his mouth to hers in a kiss that was quiet, certain, and deep with all the feeling he had refused to name.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t fierce or desperate. It was soft. It was a promise, shaped in silence.

She melted into him with a sigh, her hands rising instinctively to curl into his chest. She kissed him back like she had been waiting, without even knowing, for this very moment.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead lingered against hers, and he exhaled a breath that felt like it had been trapped in his lungs for years.

He looked at her then as she was—her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in shock and something far more delicate. He smiled.

“All right,” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Now, you can go back to your friends.”

She stared at him, speechless.

He raised one brow in a mockingly patient look. “I’ll even promise not to touch anything in the study.”

Her eyes widened then she let out a stunned, breathless laugh.

And as she turned away, smiling so brightly he could feel it even after she disappeared down the hall, Robert stood in the corridor alone with his heart beating with a wonder he had once believed long dead.

And this time, he didn’t stop himself from feeling it.

The following day, Robert stood before the tall doors of Lord Brimwood’s study, his knuckles hovering for a breath too long before they rapped against the wood. The sound echoed with perfect politeness, but in reality, it masked the storm behind his ribs.

He had planned this. Rehearsed it. Practiced the tone, the casual curiosity. The neat lies woven into truth.

A moment later, the door opened, and Lord Brimwood looked up from his writing desk, eyebrows raised.

“Your Grace,” he greeted. “This is a surprise.”

Robert inclined his head. “Forgive the intrusion, My Lord. I hope I’m not keeping you from anything critical.”

“Only estate tedium.” The man gestured to a leather armchair before the desk. “Do come in.”

Robert sat with his spine straight and his hands folded neatly in his lap. He waited for the door to click closed behind him before speaking.

“I came to speak with you about something that has troubled a friend of mine.” A pause. “Lord Mason Cunningham. He believes someone may have tampered with his seal, perhaps even forged it. I recall Evelyn mentioning, once, that you had endured something similar.”

Brimwood’s mouth tightened faintly then loosened into a faint nod. “Yes. A strange business, that. Long years ago now.”

Robert watched him carefully. “Would you be willing to tell me how it was discovered? And what was done?”

The man sat back, steepling his fingers.

“There isn’t much to say, I’m afraid. I had letters returned to me that I had no memory of writing.

Questions from gentlemen I never contacted.

It all seemed to happen at once. There were inquiries.

An audience with the King. The seal was remade, witnessed by those in authority, of course, to mark the change. ”

“But there was never any confirmation of who had forged it?”

Brimwood shook his head slowly. “None. No suspects. No accusations I could prove. It stopped after I changed the seal. Whoever they were… they vanished.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you never attempted to search further?”

There was a pause then Brimwood offered a small, sad smile. “Some things, Your Grace, remain beyond our reach. I had a family to think of. An estate to protect. And I was not a young man with time to spare. Eventually, I had to let it go.”

Let it go.

The words sank into Robert like cold water down the spine. He nodded, offered a few more polite inquiries, and after a short while, took his leave, all appropriate courtesy in place. He walked through the halls alone with his hands behind his back and his thoughts loud in his skull.

Let it go.

He had lived for this, for vengeance, for answers, for the blood-pounding, obsession-driven need to know who had orchestrated the carriage attack. Who had stolen his parents from him? Who had taken his brother’s future and left only cold, dry earth behind?

But what had it given him? Nothing but years wasted, nights lost, the heavy drag of fury in his chest like an anchor. And now…

Now, he saw Evelyn’s smile when she was planning a village school. Her eyes were bright with purpose. He felt the ghost of her kiss on his cheek, the curve of her laugh trailing through the halls like sunlight.

A new life was blooming around him, soft and unsteady and utterly precious. And vengeance had no place in it.

He stood still at the window at the end of the corridor, watching the gardens below. A breeze stirred the hedgerows. Somewhere far off, a fountain splashed gently, indifferent to the war that had just quieted in his soul. For the first time in years, Robert allowed himself to exhale the burden.

He would not chase shadows anymore. He would build something solid. Something good. Something with her. Let the past bury its dead. He was done carrying their ghosts.

Those were the thoughts nestling inside his mind as the carriage lulled him into a sense of comfort on his way home.

The soft patter of rain had begun while the carriage rumbled through the streets.

It was gentle at first, a mere mist on the windows, then steadily thickening to a persistent drizzle that streaked the glass in trembling rivulets.

He would tell Evelyn tonight.

He would take her hand and tell her everything, starting from his decision to let the hunt go, the weight he was no longer willing to carry, and finally, the life he wanted with her.

Not just under the same roof, not just as partners in investigation or responsibility, but truly, as a husband who could be worthy of her fire, her light, her heart .

He found himself smiling, faintly, at the thought of how she would react. She’d probably tease him, he thought, accuse him of growing soft. She’d arch that brow in mock skepticism, only to reveal her pride in the next breath, too bright to hide.

The wheels crunched over the gravel drive. He leaned forward as the coach slowed before the townhouse which was his… no, their home. And then he saw it.

A figure, cloaked in soaked gray, standing too close to the front door.

He blinked, rain lashing softly against the carriage as he stepped down into it. His boots met the wet stone, water seeping into the fabric of his coat. The figure didn’t move. She was peering through the parlor window, one gloved hand pressed to the glass.

His first thought was that it might be another vagrant. He had seen them before and always instructed his staff to help where they could. Some sought food, some warmth, some place to disappear for the night. He never turned them away.

He took a few steps forward, prepared to address her gently, and then she turned. The hood slipped back just enough for the lamplight above the door to catch her face. His steps faltered. His breath stopped.

It was Matilda.

Her hair clung to her pale face in wet strands, her eyes wide, frantic, locked on his as if she had only just realized he was there.

She looked nothing like the proud girl who had once swept into a scandalous elopement.

She looked lost.

Ruined.

And Robert could only stand there, frozen in the rain, the words he’d rehearsed for Evelyn falling from his mind like water through his fingers.