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“Several weeks ago. Right after the party where we saw you two.”
That long ago? They hadn’t been—oh—the poker game and what came next. She’d seen the dragon. He was such a fool. She’d still been a virgin then and yet she’d permitted everyone to think...to save him. She trusted him, more than he could ever imagine.
His mother coughed. “She’s a lovely girl. A brave one too, especially for someone as innocent about quite a few things. A nice girl from a nice family who already had social difficulties—she had the least motive to make herself a sacrificial lamb on your behalf. And yet she did.”
“And then I—I left.” It was hot, so very hot. He fanned his sweating neck. “But I did it for her. She believes in me. I’ll dash all her hope, take away her light. I’ll fail her worse than I failed Sophie. I had to leave, for her own protection. It was the only unselfish thing to do.”
His parents glanced at each other.
“So she’s as clever as you say, and she has faith in you, but you still think you know better? Abandoning her won’t bring Sophie back. Besides, Sophie bedded and married you of her own free will. You shouldn’t need to pay more penance for a choice that was mutual. Miss Nunes certainly shouldn’t have to pay for it.” His father raised an eyebrow.
Jay could only gape. It was all too much.
“I believe you know what you need to do, in your heart.” His mother moved towards the bed. “I shall say though, if you’re going to rectify things and not run away to Paris, you might want to make a decision soon. Your ship leaves in mere days.”
“Before the party.” His father straightened his cravat. “I hear everyone in Wilmington’s coming.”
Urs would be there. If he didn’t leave, she’d be in his house. But how? How could he ever even speak to her?
She deserved better no matter how he longed to lock her in a room and get down on his knees and beg her to never leave him. He sighed. It didn’t matter. He’d already lost. He’d deserted. He’d never be permitted to return.
“But how can I even approach her after everything? And I’ll still fail her. Her uncle was right. I crave and yearn, daily.”
Tears shone in his father’s eyes. He’d never seen his father cry. He’d caused that. He did that to his father. Mercy, what had he done to Urs?
“I know. It tears me apart.” His father’s voice cracked.
“But a mistake is not a failure.” His mother raised her tone above the men. “And a valiant fight against illness isn’t weakness.”
Urs. Urs said that, didn’t she? A mistake. A mistake sounded so trifling after all he’d done, all he was. He’d never be what she deserved. He’d always be on the edge of mistakes or worse. Before, he might have been almost enough, even if no one truly was worthy of Urs, she was a goddess after all. But he lost all hope of redemption seven years ago. He’d never be a whole person.
“Even if I caused the illness?”
“You made a mistake. How much should one suffer for a single mistake?” His father’s voice was strangled. “Everyone makes mistakes, some are just costlier. Many men in your position would be dead. It’s a credit to you that you recognized your mistakes and are still here. And more, you’re striving to make it right, and for something good.”
“When she speaks of you—the you that you are now—her entire face livens. She notices everything. You’re her favorite subject, except for perhaps animals and sweets.” His mother stroked his father’s shoulder.
He had to smile at that. Urs. All Urs.
“And your face matches.” His mother bent down and took his chin in her hands. “You fit. When you speak of each other, when you’re together, you’re both happy, as you are. That’s a gift, a precious gift, not something to doubt or question. Very few people are able to find that sort of light.”
She moved her hands down and spread his shirt. His eyes widened. She turned to his father. “It’s a dragon and it goes quite low, it seems.”
Jay snatched back his shirt, his cheeks scalding. “Mother.”
She shrugged. “Your father wagered a scar from a knife fight, but I know my son is more of a lover than a warrior. He now owes me a night at the opera and a new settee for the front parlor. I enjoy green silk.”
“Mother.” He slapped his hand over his forehead. He had to be dreaming.
His mother giggled before slipping her hand inside his father’s. The two strolled to the door.
“The choice is yours, son. You still have time. We’d understand if you went to Paris, though if you don’t, I’ve noted that women enjoy gifts. Jewelry is often nice.”
Jay rubbed his eyes.
“Amethyst would look lovely with blonde hair and blue eyes—large amethyst, to balance out certain parts of a certain figure,” his mother added.
Before he could say anything the two left the room. He patted around the bed. No, he’d taken nothing. The lamp and the pipe and the powder and the tablets, everything he bought from Caleb, were present, staring at him.
