OW35

"For days I have carried this envelope with me. But you are the true recipient. I feel her…watching me now." He paused until I looked him in the eye.

"Then what would she say if she saw you hand this to me?" I said, demanding more than asking.

With a deep inhale, he nodded. "It no longer matters what she would say. This must be done. For both of us."

He started to extend his hand and then stopped. His charity had reached its end. I felt somewhat relieved.

"Goodbye, Monsieur Kire and good luck to you." He glanced past me at the bedroom where his daughters slept. "Your son, he will be a good man."

I merely nodded, uncertain of what he wanted to hear from me.

"You will return home?" I asked when he remained silent.

"France," he sighed, "I'm afraid my home no longer holds its charm."

"Away from here?" I questioned.

"Far away from here. An ocean, at least, away from this place and these memories."

Words escaped me. Was this a token of peace or a stab to the chest? I knew nothing of his intentions. Had our places been exchanged I would have kept every facet of her life under lock and key, cherished every scrap of paper she wrote upon.

But he was different, and now I knew why he had staggered through the streets. It was more her memory than drink that made him stumble.

I didn't know he had walked from the hall until I looked up and found myself alone with Christine's note in hand. He must have already sent for his carriage so that he could take his daughters home and prepare for the funeral.

For a long time I stood and examined the tattered envelope, my fingers pressing firmly into the paper. I turned it over and found the seal unbroken, the contents unread. My breathing quickened at the thought of what I held. Despite my trepidation, I stared until my eyesight blurred.

A full decade of my life had been dedicated to her and the hope she would recognize me, grace me with one single, claiming glance. Every letter I sent her had gone unanswered, and though it was a jagged pill, I wondered if she saved them or tore them up.

Secretly I hoped and prayed for her to read each carefully chosen word, to know that every sentence was cut from my soul, bled into the pen, and crafted for her. But she had not recognized my affection for her, my willingness to die at her feet rather than live alone. And when I saw her through the mirror I knew she'd look anywhere but my face, love anyone but me.

Foolishly I clung to the paper, both fascinated and horrified. She was dead. My future bride was alive—and I was standing in her home.

I started to crumple the envelope but stopped when I saw movement at the bottom of the stairs.

"Alex returned home?" Julia questioned as she held onto the banister.

I stuffed the letter into my pocket and met her on the stairs. "A moment ago." I avoided her eyes, afraid she'd see the betrayal in mine. "He was nearly asleep when he called for me."

"Nothing wrong, I hope."

"Domini had fallen asleep on him."

She placed her hand over her heart and smiled. I felt her other hand wrap around me as she placed her head against my chest. I could barely bring myself to hold her. Most certainly she would feel it in my arms, the weight of a past that not even death could stop.

"He and Lisette will make such wonderful siblings. Between the two of them, I wonder if we'd get to see our own child." She reached up and touched my cheek. "You're so quiet. Anthony will leave soon and then we can speak."

I didn't say a word. It wasn't Anthony that concerned me—though he damned well should have been in my forethought. Instead he'd been replaced. By her.

"Erik?"

Julia looked at me, her eyes narrowed. "What is it? What did he say?"

"He's concerned about Lisette."

She nodded. "Yes, well…"

Meg tapped on the wall like a shy little mouse and drew Julia's attention away. "We wanted to say goodbye…to both of you. It's been a lovely evening, but I'm terribly exhausted. I apologize."

Julia flew down the stairs to embrace Meg. "You've no reason to apologize. You and Charles must promise to attend another party after the baby is born." She glanced back at me. "Wasn't it lovely to have Meg and Charles join us?"

I nodded half-heartedly and felt my pocket to make certain the note had not fallen out. Both Julia and Meg walked toward the front door and I heard Archie and Charles in conversation. Moments later they returned home but I hardly noticed. My comfortable world slowly abandoned me, and like a fool I allowed it.

If it hadn't been for Archie announcing he had another friend to visit I would have remained on the stairs all night. Hermine asked the Vicomte if he would walk her home. He had little choice in the matter since she handed him his coat and hat and practically grabbed his arm, telling him she wanted to go over the finer details of her routine.

"I'm making coffee," Julia said to me. She grasped my arm gently and looked me over with an expression of deep concern. "Will you stay a while longer?"

I nodded and she forced a smile. Her fingers brushed along my sleeve before she finally turned. Alone, I wandered into the parlor and stared at the empty service tray. The house was quiet, save for Julia and Anthony speaking in the kitchen.

I should have been at her side, but I stayed where my feet had taken me. The remnants of her dinner party were my only companions in the form of a half-empty wine bottle, a tray of cookie crumbs, and several teacups. Most of her guests had returned home after thanking Julia and telling them what a wonderful party she hosted.

Yet I hid from her, from my fiancé.

A shiver ran up my spine as I touched the envelope. There was no warmth in the room despite a blazing fire in the hearth. Shame had chilled my soul, blackened the edges of my heart.

"My God," I whispered to the letter.

My hands had started to tremble as I clutched the paper. A note in my name, meant for me. How long ago had she written this? Was she well or was she sick and hurting? The thoughts that scurried through my mind sickened me. She was another man's dead wife. I should have been at peace, able to release her at last, and yet I felt more tangle in her memory than ever. She acknowledged me, which she'd done so rarely. Even in her death she allowed me a scrap of hope. For this I both loved and hated her—and feared that she would rip it away just as swiftly as she gave me hope.

Julia tapped on the door and I turned to see her enter. "Anthony offered to help Monsieur de Chagny take his children to the carriage. Do you…what's this?"

Her gaze was fixed on the note in my hands. Without hesitation, I turned to face her and dropped my hands to my sides.

"It's a letter," I answered.

She blinked. "A letter? For me?"

My insides twisted. I couldn't bear to look her in the face a moment longer. Barely able to breathe, I stared at the fire. "It's from Christine."