Now, he saw what it had truly cost him.
He realized just how fortunate he’d been that he had been able to begin salvaging his marriage—the one thing he’d wanted above all else—however briefly. It was as if his past had come back full circle to bite him.
He couldn’t escape all that he had done…all the decisions he’d made and impulses he’d followed had led him no closer to the life he’d wished for. If anything, he was further away now than he had been a few weeks prior.
He asked himself for the hundredth time why he hadn’t simply divulged the true reason for his absence to Alaina all those years ago or any time since, and he came to the same conclusion he always did—he was trying to protect her. Alaina having knowledge of his movements and his motives could have placed her in danger with anyone seeking to harm him or do damage to the Spy Society. One of the first things he’d learned in training was that England wasn’t without its own dangers. If anyone was aware of how much she meant to him, then she might have become a target if it was discovered that Sterling was spying on some of the most powerful and dangerous people on the Continent. England still reeled in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars, and he would do whatever it took to neutralize threats before they could present another threat—be it from Spain, Italy, German princes, Russia, or any number of other European powers. He couldn’t regret the lives he’d saved with his work, but he absolutely regretted the life he’d lost with Alaina.
His fingers clenched around the cut crystal glass with dangerous force.
Just then, a man (either foolishly brave or utterly stupid) appeared in Sterling’s periphery. He could sense the rest of the room grow quiet as the other members waited to see if there would be bloodshed.
Sterling refused to move, choosing instead to glare at the dark figure out of the corner of his eye.
The man remained motionless for several irritating minutes.
Finally, Sterling turned and fixed the man with his most ducal glare.
In the face of his expression, the man bowed bravely and took up the seat beside Sterling. His graying hair was slicked back. His clothes were fine, if simple. He had a face unfamiliar to Sterling and yet…there was something intentionally unobtrusive about his appearance. Something nondescript. Something everyone would see, but no one would notice. Black was a master of this—blending in while in plain sight.
“Do I know you?” Sterling growled with derision, his every sense suddenly on alert and overcoming the alcohol he’d imbibed.
“No, Your Grace,” the man said softly with a single shake of his head; “but we have a mutual acquaintance.” A cold chill danced across Sterling’s skin, and he sobered immediately. “The Phantom would have performed the introductions, but he finds himself indisposed.” The man held out his hand, palm tilted toward the floor. Sterling eyed the appendage as if it might strike like a cobra, but he couldn’t ignore it. His sense of duty demanded it. He took the man’s hand and felt a small, sealed note from Ramsay slip into his palm. Sterling concealed it within the cuff of his sleeve with the ease of habit.
“Our friend hopes you’ll meet him in the usual place in one week’s time.”
The man stood and tipped his head deferentially and took his leave.
Conversation gradually resumed around Sterling, but he heard none of it. The corner of the note pricked the inside of his wrist. He didn’t need to read it to know his wife would have her wish granted, and a part of his soul would wither and die forever.
She’d be rid of him.
“Wha’ ’appened tothe princess?” demanded a little voice so shrill with excitement that it was all Alaina could do not to flinch.
“Yes!” another child chimed in. “Tell us, m’lady!”
No less than half a dozen girls aged between four and nine years of age danced about Alaina’s skirts, tugging at her hands and practically dragging her to the chair near the hearth from which she usually read to them.
“Girls!” fretted Miss Smythe. “We mustn’t pull on the duchess!”
“It’s quite alright,” Alaina reassured the poor, harried young woman with a light laugh. Despite her aching heart, it was difficult not to allow the girls’ infectious joy to wheedle its way in. She had been right to seek solace within these walls. Less than five minutes in their company and she already felt marginally better about her day. There was nothing like the honest adoration of a child. They possessed no hidden agenda, they didn’t ask her to be someone she was not, and she and these girls shared the unfortunate kinship of being adrift in the world. “I’d be anxious, too, if I didn’t know whether the prince was able to conquer the Black Knight.”
Miss Smythe smiled with tired eyes. Younger than Alaina, her habitual simple black dress, severe chignon, and intense dedication to her wards left the unmarried woman with a constant look of exhaustion far more advanced than her years. Alaina had come to know her quite well through her consistent visits to Mrs. Worthy’s Home and School for Girls, and there was an unending well of kindness behind her blue-grey eyes. Not a visit passed where they hadn’t shared a kind word and Alaina could always count on Miss Smythe to provide the most thorough information about the children in residence, the schooling, and the facilities. Alaina had always felt it extremely admirable that the young woman had dedicated her life to the raising and education of these unfortunate children when she, by all accounts, was sweet, intelligent, and pretty enough to have found a husband with ease. All the better for the children to have her as an advocate, though. In the five years since Alaina had first arrived unannounced and carrying a basket overflowing with sweets, books, and toys, she and Miss Smythe had enjoyed one another’s company on numerous occasions and worked together to implement necessary updates and reforms to turn the home into what it had become.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll just work on some mending,” said Miss Smythe, retrieving the basket from the corner of the room and setting herself up near one of the tall windows overlooking Westminster Bridge Road. Unfortunately, most of the windows remained closed even in nice weather because the proximity to the Thames left a lingering odor if one wasn’t careful. The building, however, was in good repair and the grounds were well-kept.
About three decades prior, Mrs. Mary Worthy—former orphan and wife of a shipping magnate—and her husband purchased the horseshoe-shaped home from a lord with a gambling problem and converted it into a refuge for disadvantaged girls. Patronage of the Home had passed to Mrs. Worthy’s daughter upon her death and then her grandson following that. When it was clear the grandson had no motivation to improve upon his family’s legacy, Alaina had made it her personal mission to assume the position of informal patroness, providing time, necessary items, and funds whenever she could. Her first visit to the home exposed her to the need these girls had for warmth in their lives. Having no children of her own and only an absent husband, Alaina sympathized with them and became a mother hen.
The home had first gained Alaina’s attention at an event for an entirely different charity. Mrs. Worthy’s was mentioned as one of the homes that would benefit greatly from an event such as the one being held that evening. Many homes and schools for orphaned children were parish-run, but independent ones like Mrs. Worthy’s required additional support from patrons and an efficient foundation. Her first meeting with Mrs. Worthy’s disinterested grandson was all the urging Alaina needed to take the home and its wards beneath her wing. Without the official approval from its current patron and little desire on his part to put effort into the creation of an appropriate foundation and board, her position was informal, though that suited her just fine since it allowed her to act without any real supervision. Gaining the trust of the matrons who ran the day-to-day operations had been difficult at first, but she proved through her time and her efforts that she was no fickle duchess seeking to make a great show of helping the less fortunate only to wander away when it no longer suited her.
Alaina’s greatest joy came from seeing the girls grow into young women who, at fifteen years of age, possessed the skills that would allow them to be apprenticed out in households and earn wages to support themselves. Not only that, but the additional education for which Alaina advocated meant they would also be able to read, write, perform arithmetic, and have a better chance at holding their own in the world.
For now, the littlest girls crowded around Alaina, jostling for places of honor closest to her, far less concerned with their futures or their tragic pasts than they were in the Medieval tale of chivalry and love. Scooping up the smallest child—a doe-eyed little doll named Mary, as many of the infant wards were named upon arrival both in homage to the Virgin and the Home’s founder—and situated her in her lap. The girls were checked for lice each week, so Alaina had no concerns when the child curled up against her like a kitten and popped her thumb into her mouth to await the story.
Alaina had a difficult time swallowing past the lump in her throat and her eyes burned suspiciously.
Do not cry, she admonished herself.Do not cry in front of the girls. No matter how broken your heart is, it is nothing compared to what these children have endured.
She took a bracing breath, found the page in the book another of the girls handed to her, and she used her words to carry them all off to a much happier place.
