Page 14 of The Lady Who Left (The Flower Sisters #4)

T he lights of London had stopped flashing by the windows when Marigold finally spoke. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes focused on the back of the seat in front of them. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

Archie shifted in his chair, his cock already half hard at the memory.

He hadn’t expected her to mention it—hell, he hadn’t expected her to speak to him at all, considering she’d been pale and silent while they rode to King’s Crossing and hurried to catch the last train to York, and for the past quarter hour while they traveled north.

His skin itched with the need to touch her, and he kept biting his cheek to avoid talking out of turn. Because he needed to know what that kiss had meant to her.

He didn’t entirely understand what it meant to him .

“What happened at the theater?” he asked, hoping more context would give him a greater understanding of the bizarre circumstances that led to the most ground-shaking kiss of his life.

“I found his mistress.” She turned to face him, her expression drawn and cheeks pale. A resigned sigh left her lips. “He ended their arrangement months ago, and she hasn’t recovered. She agreed to send me his letters about the affair, but she won’t testify. I’m sorry.”

No stutter , he thought. Then the rest of what she said sank in. “Marigold,” he breathed, “that’s incredible. The letters will be a tremendous help, even without her testimony.”

She shook her head and let her gaze drop to her lap. “I don’t know if she’ll follow through, and I didn’t ask for a way to contact her. It may be worthless.”

He hated how she sounded, the resignation in her voice. The light in the woman he’d seen in the theater lobby had been snuffed out.

Oh, Christ. He had been the one who’d done it. “I kissed you back,” he whispered, and her hazel eyes shot to his. “I wanted to kiss you, more than just kiss. But we can’t, Marigold.”

Her lips flattened, and she looked back to her lap, pulled at the tips of the fingers of her gloves for several moments before she spoke again. “I thought I would be a good wife.”

He startled at the change in topics, but didn’t interrupt. Whatever she needed to say had been trapped inside her for quite some time, and if she felt comfortable sharing it, he wouldn’t stop her .

“I knew I’d never be perfect,” she said with a shrug, “with my speech as it is, but I thought he didn’t care about that. He asked for my hand knowing how I was, but then he tried to change me. When I failed at being his marchioness, I thought I could be a perfect mother. And I’ve failed there, as well. I can’t keep them safe.”

He couldn’t bite his tongue any longer. “You’re not failing. You’re—we are doing everything we can to protect them.”

Her gaze clashed with his, and his stomach dropped at seeing tears clinging to her lower lashes. “I might lose them because I desire you. Because I didn’t stop myself from acting on it. I could lose everything . You could lose everything.” Her slim shoulders fell even further, as though she was shrinking in on herself.

“Stop,” he said, catching her hand and squeezing it. “I haven’t seen you with your children, but you must be a tremendous mother and a selfless person to do this for them. I can’t imagine anyone being so brave.”

“You were,” she whispered. “You stood up to your father.”

Shame slid over him like an insidious blanket. “I didn’t. I kept my mother and sister safe from the blows.” He didn’t miss how her eyes popped at that, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “But I couldn’t stop the words.” He swallowed around the lump building in his throat. “I never told her to leave him, never helped her find an escape. I should have.”

Her brows furrowed. “You were a child. She knew her mind, made her choices—”

“I knew my mind as well. I knew what he was doing was wrong and that a better life was out there, but I didn’t have the courage to ask for it. To fight for it.” His fingers laced between hers, and he hated the leather that separated their skin. “You’re fighting for your boys, and they understand that. Or at least they will.”

She bit her lower lip and released it. “You’re right. I’ll find the right time to t-tell them about the d-divorce.”

His smile was weak, but a bit of the tension eased in his throat. “That’s good. And as for us…”

Her mouth moved as though she wished to speak, and he waited, praying she’d say something he wanted to hear. But what did he want to hear? His heart may not recover if she said she regretted what they did and extinguished all hope of a future together. But a future together didn’t exist. Not if she wanted her children to have the protection of anonymity. Not if he wanted to keep his firm alive and his family secure.

So he didn’t let her speak at all, selfish bastard that he was. “We work well together. We’ll get you your divorce.”

Perhaps it was wishful thinking that he saw regret in her eyes, but she nodded and turned back to the window.

Archie looked down at his fingers, still laced with hers, gave one last gentle squeeze, and let go.