“Of which I am ashamed.”
“But that isstillnot the end of your story, is it?” She encouraged him with a grin. “What did you do? Did you keep the painting?”
“I did. I keep it at home in the country in my office.”
Her gaze cleared of anguish for him. A smile teased her lips. “It reminds you of your actions.”
“It does. I was horrified, of course. Critical and outraged at my stupidity. Why had I not checked on the provenance? Invited an authority to certify the painting in the shop? How could I have been so stupid?”
“Why did you want to buy it? Can you define the reason?”
“I craved it for its notoriety. I wanted it for my ego. I wanted to brag about finding such a gem.”
“But it was a fake.”
“I went to the shopkeeper and gave him the four hundred Louis for the painting and his window. He refused it. He said he knew it was not worth that amount and so he would not take the money. But I said, ‘You are minus the painting and cannot sell it, even for a small amount.’ He said, ‘I too have learned a lesson, monsieur. I will not try to pass a fraud to another.’”
Her gaze darkened. She gulped back some emotion that made her wince and tore away to stand before the window to the garden.
He waited for her explanation.
“I am proud of you,” she murmured. “You learned so well a fine lesson. Would that we could all do so from our mistakes.”
He went to her, his hands to her shoulders, pulling her to rest against him. “I told you to enlighten you as to who I am, not to send you from me.”
“I know. I know. But you see,” she whispered brokenly, and turned into his embrace, “I have done many things thinking them for the best.”
“Working for Scarlett Hawthorne?”
“Oui. Much of it was…useful. Valuable. Very much to the cause. But I have done things that I can never discuss, never reveal to you, because they are so secret that…” She caught a sob and clamped a hand over her mouth.
He crushed her near to him. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
“Those acts?” She pulled back to stare into his eyes. “I did them with good intentions. Not for money. Or for fame. Mon Dieu, I could never do that.”
“Whatever you did, my darling, you did for good reason and fine intentions. And you were obviously very good at it, too.” He produced a handkerchief and wiped tears from her cheeks. “You are here. Saved by Scarlett and her group of agents. And I am so glad you are, because who would I marry but someone so bold and brave?”
“Oh,” she said. “You flatter me, sir.”
He lifted her chin. “I do. I am allowed. I am your husband and I value you. I care for you.”
Her gaze was watery with her misery. “I hesitate to rejoice in that, dear sir. I fear one day you will discover my true nature. That I did many things for which I cannot go to the ones I deceived and neither apologize nor compensate for the trail of tears I left in my wake.”
He wrapped her close. “Do you deceive me?”
#
She shook with her sadness and tried to leave him.
“Stay.” He caught her back, an arm around her waist. “Tell me what you can.”I want to believe what my instincts declare.
“I am yours, all yours. As you see me now.”
He dared to ask, “Do you care for me now?”
She dug her nails into the strong binds of his fingers. “I do. I do. More than any other man I have ever known.”
He turned her around and brushed hair from her temple, her cheek, and her ear. “I would guess you have not known many men.”
