“She was not born to a marriage recognized by English law,” the nun said, her lips pressing together. “Her father took a wife according to local custom. When he returned to England, he did not consider himself bound by it.”
Frederick’s jaw tightened.
“It is not uncommon,” she continued, more quietly. “There are many such children. Too many. Some cannot pass. Others…” Her gaze flicked, briefly, toward the young woman across the room. “Others might, if they were placed in the proper setting.”
Frederick followed her look.
Anya moved among a cluster of small cots, tending to a crying child with a patience that seemed inexhaustible. She lifted the infant, murmuring softly, her hands gentle, sure.
“She has remained with us,” the nun said. “Helping where she can.”
Frederick watched her in silence.
Over the following weeks, as his strength slowly returned, he saw more.
Saw how she worked without complaint, how she moved from one task to another without hesitation. The way she soothed the children, the quiet steadiness of her manner, the absence of bitterness in her expression.
She had every reason for resentment.
And yet—
There was none.
Only kindness.
And something else.
Something that, despite everything, remained unbroken.
As his strength slowly returned, he found his gaze drawn to her again and again, and soon the passing interest he had initially felt began to develop into something more.
When the time had at last come for him to resume his life, he did so with reluctance he did not entirely understand.
Life resumed.
Or something like it.
He returned to trade, though it was not the same as before. Nearly all that he had possessed had been sent away with that final letter—the letter he had believed would be his last. He began again with little more than his name and his knowledge.
Fortunately, those proved to be sufficient.
His former partner received him with astonishment, and no small degree of satisfaction.
“You always did have a talent for surviving what ought to kill you,” the man remarked, clapping him on the shoulder. “And I have sorely missed your judgment in my accounts.”
Frederick allowed himself a faint smile.
Within days, a modest sum was placed at his disposal. Within weeks, it had been repaid—doubled—through a venture that bore all the marks of Frederick’s careful calculation.
He had always possessed a head for numbers.
For opportunity.
For risk that was not truly risk at all.
And now?
Now he applied it with a purpose he had never before known.
