Raising the crown aloft, the man waited with a smile that beckoned Theodore to draw closer. “Come, son. Let me put it on you.”
Theodore shook his head. “I’m not worthy of such a gift.”
“I didn’t ask you to be worthy. I asked you tocome.”
Theodore bowed his head, shedding tears as the crown settled upon his brow.
Lifting Theodore’s chin, the man looked on him without disgust. “Never let anything keep you from coming to Me. I will always claim you as My child. I will always love you. You can depend on that. You can depend on Me.”
Theodore awoke to the gentle warmth of morning light.
A yawn stretched his lips as he arched his back. He rubbed his palm across his eyes, which felt oddly ... rested. Clear. The sun crested the rooftops, gracing Strasbourg with another day. He reveled in a deep cleansing breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d awakened like this—without the skittering spider legs of terror crawling along his skin. Without unshakable cobwebs of fatigue clinging to his mind. To awaken well rested in the arms of peace ... was a miracle.
You can depend on Me.
The words echoed in Theodore’s spirit, vibrating with the power of a solemn promise. Tears welled in his eyes even as a smile unburdened his face.
Depend on Me.
The words were a promise to lean on and a command to obey.
One he could no longer deny or ignore.
Wiping away the haze of tears, Theodore grabbed the crutch and strode toward the cathedral, steps sure and determined in what must be done. No one barred his way as he entered the main doors—confirmation he was on the right course. He proceeded down the nave to the cathedral’s crossing, climbed a set of stone stairs, and stopped at the apse.
Here, Theodore knelt and laid his broken crutch at the foot of a towering wooden cross. “From now on, I pledge to lean on you and nothing else. I’ll follow where you lead. Help me to keep my oath. And please ... help me find Clara. What would you have me do?”
“A prayer so humble is sure to be heard.”
Theodore found himself joined by a graying priest with a kindly countenance.
The priest smiled, creasing gentle lines around his eyes and mouth. “What is your name, my son?”
Rising to his feet, Theodore left the crutch on the ground. Left it behind, for good this time.
“Name’s Kingsley. Theodore Kingsley.”
CHAPTER
33
Clara measured her breath, deliberate and defiant, in an effort to keep panic at bay. Remaining calm—remaining in control—was the only way she’d get through this night. The only way to protect her family from Mr. Forrester’s latest plot.
“You’ve left me with nochoice, Clara. But because I’m a reasonable man, I’m going to graciously give you two: become my wife or give me the owl machine. Either option will provideme with the means to free myself from the creditors and save my business. Then we can put all thisugliness behind us and live in peace, together or separately.The choice is yours.”
The vein along Clara’s right eye twitched. She blinked hard, willing it to be still. To let her think. Any choice offered by this indubitablyunreasonable man was no choice at all.
Marriage to Mr. Forrester was an unthinkable existence, and allowing him to claim the owl as his own invention would only put her family in greater danger when the lie threatened to unravel. What was to stop Mr. Forrester from blackmailingthem again to maintain his ruse? Were they to spend the rest of their lives looking over their shoulders, under constant threat?
No. She had to escape. She had to find some way out of here. Something she had yet to try.
Once again, Clara surveyed the potting shed, having adjusted to the darkness what felt like hours ago. The lantern Mr. Forrester had extinguished remained on the table. The door he’d shut and now guarded bodily remained the only point of entry. Liberating herself from the ropes had already proven useless. Her efforts only caused the ropes to burn her arms and stockinged ankles. She’d tried to reach the gardening trowel, hoping to cut through the ropes, but to no avail. Screaming had increased her thirst and summoned no aid.
A pang of emptiness gnawed her stomach. That was the long and short of it, then. All her resources had been considered and exhausted. There was nothing more to do. She couldn’t break free, she couldn’t escape, and her failure was putting her family in unknown peril.
“I don’t want to hurt your family, butknow this—if you thwart my plans again, I willdo whatever I feel is necessary in order to survive.So please ... don’t try my patience. Don’t makeme do something I’ll regret.”
Tremors coursed through Clara’s restrained hands. She dug her nails into the chair’s wooden arms. No! She refused to accept that Mr. Forrester had won. Her hands might be tied, but she had one unaccounted-for resource. The man who’d outsmarted a pickpocket to retrieve Mum’s purse. The man who’d dived into a lake to save her from drowning. Theodore wouldn’t give up because night had fallen. He wouldn’t give up when her breadcrumbs led in circles. He would come for her. She could depend on that. Shewoulddepend on him.
