Page 79 of The Swindler’s Daughter

“We were right,” he said, like he was trying to convince someone who wasn’t here. “What we did was right. We did it for the good of the people.”

“Yes, but it still feels like the ground is about to crumble beneath me. This is the way that it should be, but what should be isn’t always the same as reality. This seems far too tidy.” So tidy that it was hard for me to trust it.

“I wouldn’t call it tidy. There’s still plenty to deal with.”

“You know what I mean. Just the fact that he understood at all is hard to accept. All the stories that I’ve heard about the ducal family are not flattering. I never imagined them as understanding or even as rulers who wanted the best for their people.”

“Yes, but keep in mind that it wasn’t the ducal family that pardoned us. It was the duke himself. I’m not sure we would have received the same from the duchess or from Lord Rockwell.”

That was very true. The duchess had not seemed pleased that the duke had left us unscathed. But even so. “I suppose I just wasn’t expecting a duke to actually care.”

He gave a solemn nod. “That took me by surprise as well.”

“Hopefully we won’t have any other occasions to see the less-understanding side of him,” I said. “In fact, I’d be happy never to be in his presence ever again.” I was sure I’d used up all my luck with that one encounter.

“Don’t count on it. I imagine the duke’s going to come looking for us as soon as he realizes that he never asked where we stashed the hoard.”

I stopped in my tracks, a hand going to my mouth as I stared at him in shock. “I completely forgot about that.” A laugh burst from my lips. “We have a wagon full of stolen treasure hidden in the woods and the duke didn’t even ask after it.”

Rowan nodded with a grin, and we fell into silence as we picked our way through the trees and undergrowth of the woods that separated Bridgefield from Sutton lands.

The silence allowed my mind to churn over the events of the past two days, and the more I thought, the more all the fear came flooding back, causing my stress to mount and eventually leaving me frantic. That moment—walking through the dark and quiet wood with my hand held gently in Rowan’s—didn’t feel real because it didn’t make sense, and so it felt unfinished, like there was more coming. Surely there was more. It could not be that easy.

I was so caught up in the thrumming of my heart and mind that the tug I felt on my hand startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up at Rowan, who had stopped at the edge of the woods, his eyes fixed on Sutton Manor, his forehead tense.

My own frenzied thoughts quieted, overshadowed by concern for him. “What is it?” I asked.

He took a strained breath. “I just need a moment,” he said, breathing deliberately. But instead of his breathing slowing, it sped up, coming with more difficulty until he was almost gasping. The hand that held mine squeezed while his other pressed into his chest and he doubled over, sucking air in and out, in and out, too fast.

I reached out, trying to hold him up. “Rowan?” I asked, trying to sound calm but hearing the panic in my voice. “Are you hurt? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head but didn’t answer, only squeezed his eyes shut tighter. I don’t think he could answer in that moment.

“Sit down,” I said, not knowing what else I could do for him. “Just sit for a moment.” I did my best to ease him down, but his knees gave out and he landed with a thump.

A gasping sob burst from him, followed by another and another.

I wrapped myself around him, trying to hold him together as his heaving breaths and shaking sobs continued. I held on, rocking back and forth as he fought to get his breathing under control. Seeing his torment was like watching a mirror of what was going on inside myself. And somehow, witnessing his tension and worry and angst pouring out of him also allowed my own to escape as I accepted that the way I felt ready to fly apart inside was normal. It was the natural way to react to such a situation, and my own silent tears seeped into his shoulder as I held him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, grasping my hand in both of his and planting a desperate kiss to my palm. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just…”

“I know,” I said.

He looked up at me, his eyes shining and haunted. “You do?” he asked before noticing my own tears. Then his face collapsed in compassion. “You do.”

I nodded and swiped the tears from my face. “This—all of this. It’s just been…too much.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “I thought you were going to end up in irons,” he said. “Or worse.”

I nodded, touched that his worry had been for me before himself.

“I was prepared for Reeve and his men.” He sniffed and finally took a deep breath. “That situation was manageable. It was a known risk. But when the Duke of Winberg walked in and found us holed up in his own house—” He took in another unsteady breath and let it whoosh out. “I’m tempted to whisk you away right now. To run while we have the freedom to do it.”

“I know the feeling.”

He turned his face to mine, searching my eyes and pushing a hand into my hair. “And yet you’re so much calmer than I.”

I examined my own inner turmoil as I took in the way his eyes grazed over my features with love and respect. “Maybe because I know you understand just how serious it was. How lucky we are.” I smiled. “Thank you for not being cavalier about it.”