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Lottie abruptly turned away from the portrait. Her room no longer seemed like a welcome refuge. It was full of reminders of the parents she had lost, of the life she had never gotten to have. But one place remained where she could truly be alone.
The fairy cottage was only a short distance from the main house, but it was tucked away in a hidden glen few knew about. Dusk was approaching as Lottie picked her way along the path overgrown with weeds and wildflowers. The cottage itself was covered in thick tangles of ivy, all but forgotten over the years.
Lottie’s grandfather had erected the tiny cottage as a playhouse for his youngest daughter and was partially inspired by Marie Antoinette’s model village in Versailles. Ada had christened it the “fairy cottage” when she was a child, and the name stuck. It was not a grand building by any means. Nothing more than two small rooms. But it had been sturdily built from area stone, and the thatched roof still appeared intact. Lottie found the cottage key in its usual spot under a large stone planter by the entrance and brushed away the accumulated dirt.
She couldn’t remember the last time she visited. Had it really stood empty all these years? The door would not budge until Lottie applied her shoulder with some vigor, and when it abruptly swung open she nearly toppled onto the floor. She shook out her skirts and took in the space. It smelled of damp and moss, but otherwise was just as she remembered. The larger of the two rooms contained a little wooden table, two chairs, and a lantern, while the other housed a camp stove and narrow cot.
The cottage’s lone diamond-paned picture window was partially covered in ivy, letting in only a bit of fast-fading daylight. Lottie found a remarkably dry pack of matches in the table’s drawer and set to lighting the lantern. Once the room was cast in a comforting glow, she curled up on the window seat, tucked her skirts around her legs, and rested her head against the glass.
Her heavy sigh filled the room. Mr. Wetherby had been thwarted, and she had every faith that Mrs. Houston would inform the suitable parties, but instead of planning her future and reveling in the independence she had sought for so long, here she was hiding away again in another cottage. But the loneliness that had once been so constant she’d barely noticed now chafed against her skin, rubbing her bruised heart raw. And there would never be any relief. She wanted something that was beyond money, beyond machinations and subterfuge. She wanted to be needed by a finite heart, even if it meant enduring pain when it ceased to beat. She wanted to give love and be loved in return, even if it meant giving up possibilities. She no longer wanted to live for herself alone, guided only by her own desires, but to be deeply known, like she had once been.
And she could not have it.
Eventually Lottie dozed off, but her dreams provided no respite. Alec was here in the cottage, wrapping her in his strong arms, murmuring her name against her ear. Lottie’s heart ached so badly for it to be real that she was wrenched awake. But, strangely, the dream did not end.
She blinked up sleepily into Alec’s face. “You…you can’t behere,” she whispered in confusion. He was a thousand miles away.
Alec’s eyes filled with hurt and he gave a brief nod. “I’m sorry. I needed to know you were safe. I’ll go.” He began to pull away but Lottie’s fingers dug into his arm, her body already recognizing what her mind could not.
“This is real?” She feared uttering the very words would make him vanish.
A relieved smile broke across his face. “I’m afraid so,” he said. When she pressed her face against his shoulder, she could have sworn he whisperedThank God.
“How,” she gasped. “How did you get here so quickly? Mrs. Houston only just contacted you.”
“I’m not here because of her.” Alec clasped the nape of her neck and she wanted to cry from the tenderness of his touch. “I left Venice the day after you did. I came here foryou.” He crushed her even closer. “But when I got to London, I discovered what Mr. Wetherby had planned. Rafe and I came just as the vicar was arriving. I nearly lost my mind when I realized you went through the window.” Alec gently tipped up her chin. “I thought you were afraid of heights.”
“I am,” she said. “But I really didn’t want to marry that man.”
Alec smiled. “I can understand that.”
“But…you knew to come here?”
“I had a hunch.” He shrugged, as if his ability to find her across continents was perfectly normal.
She pressed against him once again as hot joy fanned out from her heart through every limb. “Mr. Wetherby must have been very angry,” she said after a moment.
Alec drew her away from him, his expression grave. “He’s been arrested. Those codes you were deciphering didn’t come from your uncle. Wetherby was selling sensitive information. Rafe wants to charge him with kidnapping in addition to conspiring with foreign agents. He will likely hang.”
A shudder rented through her as she recalled the man’s words:Being poor is a tedious business. I intend to avoid it at all costs
And now he would pay with his life.
“My God. Did my uncle know?”
“It doesn’t appear so. He has had a rather large number of lapses in judgment lately. Most likely he has been in decline for much longer than anyone realized.”
“Yes, I thought the same.” Lottie glanced down and ran a finger along the lapels of his jacket. “You saw him, then?”
“We talked for a long while.”
Lottie hesitated, but Alec needed to know the truth. “Did he tell you about your mother, and the work she did for him?”
“He did.”
Lottie pulled back and stared into his eyes. The coldness that had always accompanied any mention of his parents was entirely gone. Now he looked broken. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I learned everything from him yesterday. That must have been so upsetting for you.”
Alec dipped his chin, as if her words embarrassed him. “It was something of a comfort to know the truth behind why she left, but I’ve realized I let her absence dictate far too much for too long.”
