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"I think I saw her." Albert leaned against a column. "Why?"
"How was she?" Steven asked.
"Why did you not come to dinner to see for yourself if you are this curious?"
"I don't know!" Steven took another swing at the dummy before sitting on the floor, heaving.
"What is going on, Steven? You have been unwell for days." Albert went to stand in front of him.
"I wish I knew, Al. I cannot think."
"You seem to be thinking of Miss Mathews. What is the matter?" he pressed him.
"She has cursed me." Steven sighed. "My every waking thought is consumed by her."
"You want her," Albert deadpanned. “The same thing happened to me when Edwina came into my life.”
"I do not ever want to take another cold bath in my life. I thought it was merely a physical urge, but now I know it is not. This is dangerous for me.”
"Dangerous enough that you know you should let her go but cannot bring yourself to, hmm?" Albert completely understood what was happening to Steven. He had wished to let Edwina go but had been unable to.
"Dangerous enough that I cannot see the rest of my days without her in them." Steven then cursed, leaning against the dummy.
"I married the woman that threw me into a similar predicament."
"Are you suggesting that I do the same?" Steven sat up.
"I am suggesting you stop running away from your own heart," Albert advised him, realizing how much of a fool he had been himself, thinking he could keep Edwina out of his heart.
He left Steven to think about what he had just told him. When he returned to his study, his weary gaze fell on the unmarked missive Chessman had given him yesterday afternoon in the front hall. He had meant to read the letter but had gotten carried away and forgotten about it.
Breaking the plain sealing wax, he found a very short note:Trust is a glass bridge that must be treaded carefully, Rowan. Once shattered, the way home is forever lost.
It was addressed to him; thus, it could not have reached him by mistake. It left him feeling oddly disquieted, and he turned the paper in his hand to identify the sender, but there was nothing there.
The day's exhaustion finally descended upon him, and he stood to return to their bedchamber, deciding that if Edwina did not want him to sleep on the bed, he would sleep in the sitting room. Edwina was in the sitting room when he arrived, a languid smile on her face. His heart kicked in his chest, relief washing over him at the sight of her.
"Are you well, Darling?" he immediately asked, placing a hand on her pale forehead, feeling for any anomaly in her temperature. He found none, no explanation for her sickly pallor.
"Albert, I am sorry," she said without preamble. "I should not have rebuffed you the way I did."
"Edwina," he took her face between his palms. "I do not know what is happening, but whatever it is, you can unburden yourself to me. I am your husband and your friend."
Her reluctance to tell him what was truly happening hinted at a lack of trust, and it broke his heart; it reminded him of the words he had read moments ago, causing him to think they might be linked. What was she keeping from him?
"Albert, I am afraid," she in a small voice. Her vulnerability further tore his heart. He thought about how her present demeanor mirrored those two occasions in the past when she had received those letters. It greatly confused him because there had been no letter today. Or perhaps she had received one while he had been distracted by the horses? Nothing made any sense, and it made his head ache.
If he wished to find the truth, he must find the scattered pieces, complete the picture, and decipher it. He wished she would help him. “What are you afraid of?” He led her back to the bedchamber and sat her down before asking again, "Is it the letters, Edwina?"
Her features fleetingly creased in confusion before realization dawned on her, and she suddenly said, "I found something, and I fear that it is slipping through my fingers."
Never in his life had he ever heard a more disturbing statement. He did not know what was slipping through her fingers, but she was certainly slipping through his, and no matter what he did, he could not hold her.
She was in pain. Since the beginning she had been in pain, but he had been too occupied with running away from the ghost of a past betrayal that he failed to see her suffering. He had allowed emotions to blind him to the simple fact that he loved her. He had loved her all along but had been living too far from the present to see his future,her.
He pulled her into his arms. "Forgive me, Edwina."
"What for, Albert?" she asked, confusion in her voice. "You have not wronged me."
