She still had a traitor to catch, William to care for and her project with Mitchell. Maybe it was time to say goodbye.
The thread binding them felt more than frayed. As if all she needed to do was yank to break it.
‘So that’s it,’ she said. ‘What will you have me do now? Return home by myself? Drag William out of bed?’
‘The bed’s big enough for both of you. I’ll stay out here.’
She clasped her hands before her and arched her brow. ‘And what of the Seal and your helping me?’
‘What did I say about flimsy vows and the fact that you shouldn’t trust anyone?’
She pulled herself up with all the dignity she could and headed to the bedroom. Before she entered the darkness there, she turned. ‘I will still seek the Seal and the traitor.’
‘I didn’t expect otherwise.’
‘And neither you, nor any other man, will stop me.’
Chapter Fifteen
Heart thundering, Hugh entered the Fentons’ Great Hall and felt again like a gangly youth who wasn’t worth the imaginary dirt on their spotless floor, rather than the man he had become.
He almost laughed. The man he’d become was worse than the clumsy poor youth he had been. Shamed for his father’s failures and knowing he’d fight against them for the rest of his life. He still had to fight those rumours, those memories, those truths.
And now he had committed even more sins that, though he had confessed to them, he wasn’t all that certain God would forgive him this time.
He didn’t forgive himself. Especially since he was being so brazen as to grace their home with his presence. He wasn’t invited, and after all he had done, he was most likely unwanted.
Yet, this was the Fentons’ annual feast, and they kept the doors open for all of Swaffham. Everyone.
Which made it easier and yet more difficult for him to be here. Because in the past this feast and entertainment had been exclusive. Now it was open to everyone, and he knew without asking who was responsible for that.
Alice. Always Alice and her generous heart and spirit. She’d have been the one to insist on inviting the entire town. And it seemed the entire town was here. Dressed in their finery with their jewels glittering.
His years away made it apparent how prosperous Swaffham had become. Everyone appeared in many ways more opulent than those at Edward’s Court, for he, at least, had suffered financial woes with his wars.
Not Swaffham, which glowed. Yet, as opulent and joyous as the crowd appeared, it didn’t stop him from seeing Alice immediately. He almost walked away. It was better to face the King and the guillotine than Alice and the truth.
It wasn’t his past deeds or his traitorous present that made him feel unworthy of being here today. It was how he had treated Alice the night of the storm.
And howhadhe treated her? By spilling his bitter past, his pain, and talking to her with disdain.
Then she had asked whether he’d help her. Her chin raised, her lips trembling from the cold or from her anger—he didn’t know.
But he did know how she’d felt after he had told her he wouldn’t aid her. Her pride and dignity intact, she’d gone to sleep, safe, warm, with the boy at her side.
He had stayed up all night, hating himself more than he had ever hated this town, and had resolved simply to leave. But the next day had sealed his fate.
The storm had left lasting damage, but the worse was over when Cranley had come to his door, asking if Alice had made it.
Alice and the boy had emerged from the bedroom then. William weak, hungry, but effusive in his happiness as Alice had fussed over him still. The boy had grumbled, but leaned into her hugs as well. And Hugh had known he was witnessing something he had never had.
Love, unconditional.
It was what he had seen when Alice had hugged the boy over the tub. It was what he had braced himself against and didn’t want to see. And the morning after the storm, he had been defenceless.
And love had ripped through him like the unforgiving winds had. For one crystalline moment he had been wiped bare and then, with staggering swiftness, he had felt his body swell with a warmth that had filled every barren crevice of his life, of his soul.
Love. He had felt love. Precious. Delicate. And yet so strong a storm couldn’t break it. A storm had forged it.
