But he’d also robbed them of a protector and what was more…he’d gained a partner in rooting out the thieves. Which was for them, the Carrington sisters, but more for him and restoring his name.
“Why didn’t he come to us?” She leaned forward, her eyes so intent, she’d not miss even a blink or a moment’s hesitation.
“I was afraid he’d alert everyone to your father’s death.”
“You were afraid…” her voice trailed off, but he felt the tension in the room thicken. “It was your choice to leave us unprotected.”
His mouth pressed into a firm line as he sat up straighter. “I needed the thieves to think that we weren’t on to them. That it was business as usual.”
Her hand fluttered up around her face. “When did he arrive in London?”
He gritted his teeth. He knew how bad this sounded. “Five months ago.”
“Five months?” Her voice trembled. “Five months?” With each word it grew louder. “You allowed us to think that our family had abandoned us completely for the last five months?”
He scrubbed his face. “Try to understand. If they’d known, they might have focused their attack on you sooner. They might have shifted their business practices so that we couldn’t catch them. They might—”
“I understand,” she said her voice sharp and clipped. “I understand perfectly. You made choices on our behalf months ago without consulting or making yourself known to any of us.”
“I didn’t know you then and I needed to restore—"
But her gasp made him stop. “Was this about our safety or your reputation?”
Damn it all to bloody hell, he’d said too much. But he’d be honest now. “Both.” He reached for her, but she moved away. “I know that I took a gamble, and that gamble could have really hurt you.”
“Did hurt us,” she said, her hands clenching into fists. “We grew so desperate that we sent Isabella in men’s clothing to become a dealer at a gaming hell. Eliza had to steal the clothes from a baron’s son and could have been ruined.”
He shuddered. “I’m sorry.”
Her arms had wrapped about her middle and she stood, crossing to the porthole. “You put us in great danger with your choices.”
He didn’t follow her this time. He knew she needed her space, but his chest ached. “You’re right.” He dipped his head. “You said earlier that you sensed something keeping us apart. My father wanted me to be king. He spied for the French with the promise that should they overthrow the throne, I would become the new leader of England. He thought he was doing right by me, but in the end, I’ve suffered greatly for his choices.”
Emily gasped even as she turned back to him. “Brandon.” There it was. That hint of compassion and sympathy creeping into her voice that he’d needed to hear.
“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, then scrubbed his face. “I told myself that I was helping both of us but when I made that choice to follow the thieves and end this investigation rather than rush to your side and keep that kidnapping from happening. Deep inside, I knew the truth. I behaved just like him.”
His head sunk and he closed his eyes. The truth was out. She’d hate him if she wanted to, but he’d begin their marriage without secrets.
Chapter Twelve
In that moment, all of Emily’s anger evaporated. She’d never been able to be angry with someone who was furious with themselves.
His head was sunk low, and in this moment, she knew exactly what he’d meant when he’d said that she had power.
Right now, this moment, her future was hers to decide.
Cross the room and hold his head against her stomach and soothe away his worries—or send him from the room and dissolve their match.
It was her right.
Her choice.
She straightened as his head dropped into his hands.
The truth was, she was furious with him for taking their options away. For forcing her sisters into increasingly dangerous situations.
She was mad as all get out that he’d nearly ruined all of them.
But nearly wasn’t actually and what he’d actually done was save them all. Isabella had landed at Bash’s door.
And Eliza at Menace’s.
And Brandon had solved the mystery and pushed the thieves from their business and, hopefully, from their lives.
What was more, he’d kept his eye on her and made certain that when danger came too close, he pushed it away again.
It had been a risk.
And he’d made choices. Some of them wrong.
He wasn’t the fantastical hero she’d imagined him to be. He was a man. Flesh and blood who’d made mistakes, protected her, married her, cleared his name, and saved hers.
He wasn’t perfect. Neither was she.
Words filled her mouth, but she couldn’t seem to sort them out. She was in love with him. That hadn’t changed.
And he was still everything she’d dreamed of: tall, dark, handsome, strong. Her hero. Only he was more. A man too.
One she could grow with. Change. Or not. But try to learn to be their best selves. Together.
She crossed the room then, stopping a foot from his bent head. “I have a confession too.”
His head jerked up, his eyes meeting hers. “You have a confession?”
She nodded, her hands clasping. “Yes. I do.” She worried her lips as she looked down at him. “And if it changes your wish to be married to me, I will understand.”
“Changes my wish…” his voice trailed off as he shook his head. “What could you possibly have done that would change my mind?”
She shook her head. “I think we’ve established that I’m not likely to have done anything.”
“Stop.” He stood then, and his arms came about her waist as he pulled her close. “Be kind to yourself, Emily. Give yourself the generosity that even now I feel you giving to me.”
“Oh.” Those words hummed through her, softening her insides and making
