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My mother startled at the sound of his booming voice now filling the silence, grasping her throat in surprise. The box that had been resting so daintily in my hands fell to the ground with a clatter.
I jumped up. “Dang it to dirt, Jackson Hollingsworth.” The already-tattered contents spread across the floor at my feet.If we hadn't grown up together and my mother hadn’t loved him as her own, Jackson would have likely been mincemeat for daring to barge into the duchess’s private chambers, but alas.
I knelt before the items in defeat. Not that there was much that could be salvaged as it were. I turned my head in frustration and faced Jackson. “What is it?”
Wringing his hands together in a nervous manner, his out-of-the-ordinary hesitation did not lessen my anger. It wasn’t as though he’d harmed anything, but still.
“I’m sorry.” He bent down, helping me gather the loose contents of the less-than-effective container. “There is something I would like to discuss with you in private. I just...” He trailed off, extending his hand, stretching it toward me and holding a torn piece of paper.
I could feel my face go slack, and I hastily grabbed at the tiny piece of parchment in Jackson’s hand, startling him.
Standing, I walked toward the window, holding to the light the most undamaged item I’d yet to see within the confines of the box.
There was a red wax seal in the corner. Well, about half of a red wax seal. But it was visible, and it was something. I traced my fingers over it ever so gently.
The little piece of parchment only had a small amount of elegant handwriting left. While the rest of the letter’s contents were lost forever, this tiny piece remained.
New life, and a new hope is ours, my Hattie. I’ll be waiting.
Wyatt.
I repeated it aloud and met my mother’s gaze.
She smiled softly. “Wyatt. As in Wyatt Silverthorne, my darling. And Hattie was your mother.”
