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“I don’t understand. You are an imposter?” Thea wrapped the linens around her naked body and sat up against the headboard. She knew he hadn’t been the late marquess’s son, but he was the heir they’d searched for and found living on the streets. Wasn’t he?

Her brother had made such an accusation of Shay’s lineage when he’d been here. He’d said people spoke of the possibility that Shay was not the real Marquess Flemming, and now it seemed they might be right.

“Only in that I was not born with that name. But I have claimed it longer than the real Sheamus Buchanan.” He shook his head. “I think I started in the wrong place.”

“It is a common mistake of mystery writers. You should give enough information so that the reader is invested in learning your story.”

He smiled at her as if he appreciated her guidance.

“Sheamus Buchanan—the real Sheamus Buchanan—was my best friend. I was on my own at six, and joined up with a gang of three other boys. All of us just trying to survive the streets of Inverness. Sheamus joined a year later and I took a liking to him. We were fast friends. You would’ve never seen a better pickpocket than Sheamus.

“He told me of his life before ending up on the streets. He’d grown up in a manor house with his parents and a younger sister. When they’d all fallen ill and died, he was to go live with his mother’s uncle who he remembered being a mean man. Rather than risk being beaten, he ran away.

“He told stories of his life before. Leaving his dog had been something that made him cry. When things were especially bleak, I would ask him to tell a story of his home so I could imagine a better life where a boy would be called for dinner each night and would be allowed to eat his fill instead of always feeling the pain of hunger in his gut.

“He always rambled on about his home and puddings and toys. He also spoke of his mother and father. I surely never had puddings or toys growing up and I didn’t have a father either.”

Thea frowned and reached out to put her hand on his. She wished to offer some comfort for the small, hungry boy he’d been.

“The five of us usually made enough to keep our bellies full throughout the summer, but cold weather meant fewer people coming and going on the streets. It meant less food sitting out to be snatched up by hungry lads. It was always worse in the winter months. And winter is long in the Highlands.

“Sheamus fell ill. A bad cough. Then he came down with a fever. The other boys moved on, afraid to get the sickness. But I stayed with my friend, bringing him what food I could find. He became delirious asking me to bring his mother or father. Eventually he fell quiet and I was glad that he was able to fall asleep, but he wasn’t asleep.”

Shay pressed his lips together for a moment before he swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Months later, I heard a toff was looking for Sheamus. I found him, thinking to tell him what happened, but instead he thought I was him. We looked similar. Close in age. Same hair color. I asked the man why he was looking for Sheamus. And he said that my great-uncle had fallen ill and wasn’t expected to recover and that I was the heir to the marquess.”

“And you thought being a marquess sounded better than dying on the street?”

He nodded. “Aye. They asked me the names of my family and even my dog as a confirmation of sorts. I passed their test. The toff was Harrington. He was the great-uncle’s companion. After spending time with them at Cawdor… I knew that wasn’t exactly true. As a boy living close to a brothel, you see things. Men who have an interest of other men. But this was different. Even as a boy I could see they were in love. I realized quickly why there had been no other heirs. Lord Flemming and Harrington were kind men. And when the marquess died I thought helping me get settled in my duties seemed to help Harrington deal with his loss. So I felt it wasn’t so bad what I did.”

“This makes you feel guilty?” she asked while stroking his back. She already knew the answer, could feel it in the tension he held in his body.

“I had good reasons for what I did back then. Dozens of them. I was starving and cold, and this old man needed to believe his title would go on. I gave him peace in his final days. But as the years went on, those reasons faded into nothing. There is no reason why I should still be living this lie.”

“What would Sheamus Buchanan have thought of all of this?”

He shook his head. “I try not to think of the betrayal to him.”

“But was it a betrayal? You cared for him, stayed with him when everyone else left him. You were his friend in a place where friends would stab another in the back for survival.” She decided she might need to ask a different question to help her husband. “What if things were reversed. If you were really Sheamus Buchanan and you had died and your friend was likely going to suffer the same fate but for a man showed up looking for you and found him instead. What would you have wanted him to do?”

“I—I…” It was clear in all this time, Shay had never asked that question or thought of it in that way. He’d only thought of what he’d done. What lie he’d told.

“Would you have wanted him to grasp onto that opportunity? No one else would have it. So why not you?”

Shay blinked at her.

“I would have wanted him to be safe. No matter what lie he had to tell. I would have wanted a warm home for him.” His eyes glistened. “Thea, do you really think he would have understood and wanted this for me?”

“You knew him best. What do you think?”

*

It seemed such a simple thing to answer. Yet Shay had not once in all this time considered things from that side. That perhaps Shay—the real Sheamus Buchanan—would have wanted him to claim his birthright so he might have a better life since he couldn’t.

It had been too late for him, but good had still come from Sheamus’s life. The stories he’d shared.

“What do you think?” Thea asked him again when he’d sat there for a few minutes unable to speak. He wanted to make sure he really knew the answer rather than giving himself some half-true reason to justify what he’d done. And after allowing himself to remember the boy he’d worked hard to push into the shadows of his memories, he had his answer.

“He would have wanted the same for me, Thea. If he could not have been saved, if it had been too late for him he would have wanted it for me. Just as I would have wanted it for him if things had been different.”

The relief came swiftly, stealing his air and breaking him down. Suddenly he was that boy again crying for his friend who had not been able to hold on long enough. This time, though he was not alone. Thea held him tight as he wrapped his arms around her waist and sobbed. She consoled him with her hand rubbing circles on his back and her fingers stroking through his hair.

“You did the right thing, uh…” Thea paused then whispered close to his temple. “What is your given name?”

He looked up at her allowing her to brush the tears from his cheeks. She wanted to know his name. She wanted to know him.

His lips felt strange making the words, it had been a lifetime since he’d uttered them.

“Ellis.” He swallowed and pushed the rest of the name up from his very soul. “My name is Ellis Ballantyne Hayes.”

Thea smiled. “It is very nice to make your acquaintance, Ellis Ballentyne Hayes.”

Hearing his name on her lips brought more tears to his eyes. He was becoming a watering pot, but he was overcome with emotions he’d not allowed himself for so long.

And now he wasn’t alone. Someone knew his secret. Thea knew and accepted him. Had given him peace.

“Thank you,” he managed when he pulled himself together.

She shrugged as if her generosity was nothing of note. “As someone who uses a different name for safety, how could I not understand you having done the same thing.”

He brushed a lock of golden hair behind her ear and looked into those warm, brown eyes that seemed limitless in their understanding.

“How did I get so lucky as to have you intrude on my life?”

“I’m not certain, but I may have to write a story about it.”

He kissed her and since they were still naked, it was an easy thing to pick up where they’d left off. Each touch between them was sweeter for having this burden lifted, this wall felled between them.

He’d never known such peace or joy. Where guilt and worry had been he was now free to be with her as himself.

She was the only living person who knew who he really was, and as she reached for him, with desire in her eyes, she cried his name.

“Ellis!”