She said nothing. If she opened herself up to James, she was risking so much more than her heart.
He released a frustrated breath and dropped her hand. She appreciated the space, yet as the cold of the bench seeped through her skirts, she wished him closer—and not just for his warmth. He drew a small object from his pocket, rubbing his thumb across its surface. Her curiosity stirred.
She glanced at the token nestled in his palm. “You hold that as though it matters a great deal.”
He stilled, surprise flickering across his face as though he had drawn it out without thinking. Silence descended between them as the stars glittered and the breeze swept through the trees. An owl hooted in the distance.
“It belonged to my friend Henry. At least . . . I believe it did.” He swallowed. “I took it from his coat pocket after he was killed.” His voice cracked, his features raw with grief as he returned the object to his coat.
She sat stunned, and this time, she reached for his hand, hoping to convey with the simple touch all the words she could not say. “I am sorry you have had to bear such a loss.”
Emotions passed across his face too quickly to name. After a while, he turned toward her, sliding on the bench until their legs were almost touching.
“I met Henry almost three years ago. We were partners of sorts in . . . business, and we quickly became friends as well. He was impulsive but confident, always sure of who he was. Ienvied that.” He blew out a breath, bowing his head. “In truth, I was drawn to him because of it. He helped me out of more than one difficult situation. I trusted him implicitly, even with my life. And unfortunately, he trusted me with his.”
When he raised his head again, whatever confession hung on his lips had already torn him apart.
“His death is my fault.”
“Surely, you cannot believe such a thing.”
“Henry and I were meant to meet a man near the river about a business opportunity. It was supposed to be an easy, straightforward matter. Then a commotion broke out by the docks. I couldn’t leave it alone.” James stared into the darkness, lost in the memory. “I told Henry I’d return. Told him he could handle the meeting without me if I didn’t make it back in time.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I hadn’t made it more than a few streets when I heard the gunshot.”
Kate tightened her fingers around his, but she did not interrupt.
“I ran. Heaven knows I ran. But a crowd was already gathering on the bridge. Bystanders swore they had seen an argument, the flash of a pistol, and a body falling into the river.” His voice roughened. “There was blood on the stones, and Henry’s coat lay crumpled against the rail. The token was in the pocket.”
Anguish marked every line of him. “The coward who pulled the trigger had already fled. If I had not—” The words seemed to catch in his throat. “If I had not left him to meet that man alone, perhaps he would still be alive.”
Kate watched him, an ache blooming in her chest. This was the confident man who had met danger without a flicker of doubt. Now he sat defeated, broken, haunted by a ghost and a choice he could not take back. The unyielding earl had vanished,replaced by someone far more real, and Kate wondered what else he kept hidden behind his carefully composed facade.
“I didn’t know your friend, but I cannot imagine he would want you to blame yourself for something neither of you could have predicted. Who is to say that if you had stayed, there wouldn’t be two coats on the bridge instead of just one?”
James stared into the darkness, his jaw set like stone. “Itshouldhave been mine, not his. I failed to protect him, and I won’t make the same mistake again.” He turned to her with a sudden, piercing intensity. “Kate, why do you think I came after you?”
“Because you have a keen sense of duty and a low tolerance for being challenged. I have no doubt you were angry that I simply . . . disappeared.”
“When your housekeeper told me where you had gone, I was admittedly angry, but not because you had left. I was cross that you did not trust me enough to confide in me, but that fault is mine.” He tugged her closer. Too close. “I did not follow you out of anger, Kate. And while I will always feel a sense of duty to protect you, I did not follow you out of some sense of obligation.”
“Dash it all, Kate—” His hand rose to her cheek, his thumb grazing her jawline. “I was not thinking of rules or duty when I came after you. I have tried to put you from my mind . . . and I find I cannot.”
His fingers brushed her temple, and he leaned in, his warm breath a caress in the cold air. “The very idea of something happening to you is unbearable.”
She let herself melt into his touch, unable to resist the invisible string that tied her to this man and to a heart she suspected held far more than just secrets. Was she willing to let him see a part of herself in return?
“Would you like to know why I truly left London?” she whispered, leaning back to allow space between them. Heblinked, clearly not having anticipated her question. She did not wait to hear his answer.
“I have no great objection to the pursuits society allows a lady,” she said slowly, willing herself to speak the words she had never confessed aloud. “But I find that they are not enough. Embroidery, afternoon calls, shopping for a new bonnet—they have their place, but I want to be useful. I want something more than the life laid out before me. Just two days ago, you saved a little boy’s life. And now you are building a bridge.” She twisted the edge of her cloak between her fingers. “I wish to do something that matters.”
“You would like to build a bridge?”
Her head snapped up. “That’s not what I meant.” Then she saw the grin on his face. She nudged his shoulder before continuing.
“When I saw those shipping crates in the alley,” she said, choosing her words with the same precision that she deciphered codes, “I felt a pull I couldn’t ignore. It was a thread leading somewhere important—one I needed to follow.”
James’s amusement vanished. “You were always daring and adventurous when we were children, but this is not a game of hide-and-seek around the estate. You are tracking dangerous men, the kind who thrive in the dark and would not hesitate to dispose of anyone who stood in their way. I cannot stand by while you place yourself in their path, and I cannot protect you from a distance.”
She clasped his hands. The heat of the contact made her pulse trip, but she did not stop. “Then come with me,” she whispered. “And we can face it together.” Silence gathered. “As friends,” she added, a shield for them both.
