“She has plenty of reasons to resent me. For one, I failed her twelve years ago. I believed the worst of her while she was being kidnapped and imprisoned. I should have trusted her. I should have attempted to free her.”
“Why did you believe she had betrayed you?”
“Her brother showed me a letter. It was her handwriting, and the tone made it very believable. Like something she would say. But it was a forgery.”
“Good God, how vile.”
“Yes. And the worst part is it was her own brother who betrayed her. Under the indolent noses of her parents. And I, the man who had professed to love her, believed their lies and abandoned her to her fate. Is it any wonder she can’t trust anyone?”
His mother shook her head. “Give her time. She is hurt and probably still confused. But I would bet anything that she still loves you. Don’t give up.”
“I don’t intend to, Mother. But I warn you, this is a battle I might lose.”
“You won’t. You are too good of a strategist to lose.”
He wished he had his mother’s confidence in his abilities. Unfortunately, he was very much aware of his unforgivable mistakes where Josephine was concerned.
“Wouldyoushowmethe letter?” Josephine asked, sliding into his study.
Michael looked up from the report he was studying and immediately stood as she approached his desk. A smile of pure joy broke across his face at the lovely interruption. Indeed, he was elated that she had sought him out at all. He had feared that after yesterday’s kiss and subsequent rejection, she might try to avoid him.
The buttery yellow morning gown she wore today made her look good enough to eat. It lent a glow to her fair features, and he fancied he saw fewer shadows in her eyes.
“Good morning, Josie. I hope you slept well?”
She blushed a delicate shade of pink, no doubt embarrassed that he had not addressed her question. She had asked something upon entering, but he had been too distracted by her loveliness to catch her words.
“Good morning. Very well, thank you. You?”
“Well enough.” No point in telling her that he had spent half the night awake, tormented by the knowledge that she was but a few steps away. Consumed by desire and longing.
“Well? Would you show me the letter? That is, if you still have it.”
He knew immediately what letter she referred to.The letter. The one that had shattered his life.
“I have it.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “Are you sure you want to see it? It might upset you.”
“I want to see it. The notion of that letter… the audacity. It’s become an obsessive thought. I need to know what was written under my name.”
“Very well, then.”
He turned and walked to one of the bookcases. Removing a stack of books, he pressed on a hidden latch and it sprung open. Behind it was the safe. Not the main one. The real safe was in the family vault in the basement of the manor.
Turning the knob this way and that, he unlatched the door and retrieved three objects that had resided there ever since he became the duke. The letter, the perfume she had made for him, and the formula for said perfume.
He placed them on top of his desk. She didn’t rush to take them. Her gaze was glued to the items, her body so still he was sure she held her breath.
“You still have the perfume and the formula.”
“Yes.”
She took a step closer, extended her hand as if to grab the bottle, but then stopped.
“Did you have it remade?”
“No.”
“Then you haven’t worn it. The bottle is still full.”
