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On his long ride back to London, Garson hardly registered a single mile or the inns where he stopped to change horses. All he saw was Jane’s pale, shocked features as he delivered his ultimatum. An ultimatum that could result in never seeing her again.

Brilliant move, old man.

After a day and a half in the saddle, it was well after midnight when he stamped back into the house at Half Moon Street. Despite his aching exhaustion, he spent the rest of the night sitting in his library and gazing into the dark abyss of his future. He chose the brandy decanter for company, but barely touched the one glass he poured. As eyes scratchy with tiredness watched the dawn come up over London, he asked himself two questions.

How had everything gone so bloody wrong?

And was there any way to fix this damned mess?

As the day brightened into morning, he found no answers, but he finally admitted something that had been staring him in the face for weeks. He needed to swallow the few remnants of his pride and ask for help.

Garson staggered to his feet, painfully stiff after the arduous ride and hours in a chair. Still wearing shirt and breeches, he tumbled into bed and crashed into a dreamless sleep.

That afternoon, Garson knocked at Silas’s shiny black door in Grosvenor Square. Silas had tried to offer advice before, but Garson had been too stubborn to listen. He was ready to listen now, if his friend was willing to help him after his recent behavior had soured relations with the Nashes and their circle.

Given the way Garson’s last visit to the Beeches had gone, optimism seemed like folly. But even if Silas offered a fresh perspective on the quandary, it would help. He wasn’t expecting much more. Silas would need to be a miracle worker to fix the gargantuan problems in this marriage.

The butler opened the door. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Good afternoon, Hunter. I’d like to see Lord Stone.”

“His lordship has taken her ladyship and the children to the park.”

Garson was so keyed up that this information sent his heart plummeting to his toes. “Oh.”

Hunter smiled. “But I suspect they won’t be long, as it’s about to rain.”

Was it? Garson had paid attention to nothing beyond his purpose. Now he glanced up at the sky and saw that the clear sunrise had deteriorated into heavy black clouds.

Hunter went on. “Would you like to wait?”

It seemed he must rein in his impatience. “Yes, please.”

Hunter showed him into the drawing room. As the storm blew in, the light worsened. Garson only realized he wasn’t alone when a tall, slender woman rose from a writing desk in the corner.

Hunter was surprised, too. “Mrs. Nash, I do beg your pardon. I assumed the room was empty. Lord Garson has called to see Lord Stone, but I’m sure he won’t mind waiting in the library.”

The butler’s voice seemed to reach him through deep water. Garson couldn’t shift his gaze from the woman who had haunted him for more than four years.

Even if he’d been warned about meeting her, he’d have struggled to hide his reaction. Caught unawares, he turned to stone: dumb, unmoving, monolithic. Through the furious blood pounding in his head, he watched her walk toward him, graceful and beautiful as ever.

“No need to send Lord Garson away, Hunter. We’re old friends. Perhaps you could bring tea and have the candles lit.”

Her soft voice caressed his ears like music. When she passed the window, he saw her more clearly. Clearer still as his stupor faded, and he remembered to take a breath. She was so exactly like his memory of her, the moment felt unreal. Vaguely he heard Hunter leave.

“Hugh?” Morwenna cast him a concerned glance. “You don’t mind keeping me company, do you?”

By God, he acted like an unmannerly lummox. He bowed and when she indicated for him to sit, he did. She took the chair opposite, her blue eyes regarding him with the solemn sincerity he’d always found irresistible.

After a humiliatingly long time, he even found the gumption to dredge out a few words. “Mrs. Nash, I didn’t know you were in Town.”

“Mrs. Nash?” She wrinkled her small, straight nose. “You used to call me Morwenna.”

He used to call her darling and sweetheart and his love. “Morwenna, then.”

“It’s only a flying visit. The Admiralty want to talk to Robert about South America, although these days, he’s more farmer than sailor. I doubt he’ll have anything useful to say.”

Garson hid a grimace at the mention of her husband. “It’s a long time since I’ve seen you.”

Over two years ago, they’d met when Silas’s niece Louisa was christened. The experience had proven so grueling, he’d avoided Nash family celebrations ever since. He hadn’t been alone with Morwenna since before their hideous engagement party.

“I’m glad I can offer you my congratulations on your marriage. I’d love to meet your wife, if she’s in Town.”

Clearly Morwenna was out of touch with gossip. “Thank you,” he said, “I’m afraid Jane’s in the country at present.”

If his last self-righteous speech hadn’t sent his wife hying for Timbuctoo. Now he wished he’d stayed at the Beeches long enough to hear some response to his terms. He wasn’t sorry he’d said his piece—he’d stand by every word. But he could have phrased it more as a negotiation than a final demand.

“What a pity I’ll miss her. Caro says she’s charming.”

“She is.” And lovely and troublesome and tempting, and, dear God, he wasn’t sure he could live without her.

Hunter’s appearance with the tea tray saved Garson from the awkward dilemma of discussing his wife with the previous candidate for the post. A footman bustled around lighting candles.

By the time he and Morwenna were alone once more, he was capable of putting two thoughts together, instead of feeling like the earth beneath his feet was about to dissolve. When he spoke, he almost sounded like a man in possession of his faculties. “How’s Kerenza?”

He had fond memories of Morwenna’s spirited daughter. As she passed him a cup of tea, affection softened Morwenna’s smile. It made her stunningly beautiful.

His first love was beautiful. He hadn’t mistaken that. But as he sat back and let her tales of an obviously happy family life in Devon wash over him, he saw he was wrong to think the years had left her unaffected.

The Morwenna he’d courted had been frail and lovely and vulnerable, wrapped in a suffocating veil of grief. She’d awoken his innate urge to heal any wounded creature, and that protective impulse had soon turned into love. Today her skin was as white as a pearl, and her eyes were as blue as the sea, and her black hair was as glossy as ever, but she’d fundamentally changed. He saw that she’d found happiness.

As he listened to her talk about her husband and children—since Robert’s return, two sons had joined the family—he couldn’t muster a moment’s regret that she had. Which was bizarre when jealousy had tormented him for years.

Fate had reunited her with the man she’d always belonged to. Somewhere since their last meeting, Garson had gained enough distance to recognize that his presence in her life had been a mere distraction at best.

He realized a silence had fallen, and he glanced up to find Morwenna regarding him quizzically. “I apologize, Hugh. I do tend to rabbit on about the children.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed. “No need.” The humor drained from her face. “I’m guessing you find this meeting difficult.”

Actually once his initial shock faded, he was astonished how easy it was proving. He’d devoted reams of turbulent emotion to this woman. He’d assumed if he ever had her to himself again, that the drama would rival anything he could see at the Royal Opera House.

Except they were both grown-ups, and the ending of this particular melodrama was settled the moment Robert Nash returned from the dead. What was the point of accusing Morwenna of destroying his life?

At this moment, the person he’d like to blame for that was his wife. But he couldn’t even do that with a clear conscience, because he was unwillingly aware that most of his present misery resulted from his blind selfishness.

“Would you rather I wait for Silas in the library?” He supposed by rights, they shouldn’t be alone together, but a few minutes of private conversation in an old friend’s house didn’t test propriety too far.

She made a dismissive gesture. “No. I’m grateful, because it means I can apologize for how shabbily I treated you after Robert came back.”

“You wrote to me. You don’t need to do any more.”

“Yes, I do. I hurt you, and you didn’t deserve it. You behaved so beautifully, when it must have been beastly, having the whole world watching on and anticipating scandal. I can only beg your forgiveness.”

“If you need my forgiveness, Morwenna—and I don’t think you do—I give it to you wholeheartedly.” To his astonishment, this wasn’t putting a good face on something he couldn’t change. He meant it. “I know you never stopped loving Robert. Everything ended up as it should.”

A smile twisted her lips. “You remain the perfect gentleman, Hugh.”

By God, Jane wouldn’t agree. Neither she should, given how he’d behaved toward her. “I hope you’ll remember our friendship with no regrets.”

“I can now. Thank you, Hugh.” She looked a little brighter. “And everything worked out in the end because you married Jane. If you’re just a fraction as happy as Robert and I are, you’ll be blessed. I wish you many wonderful years together.”

Any suitable response stuck in his throat. Regret clenched his gut as he recognized that these generous wishes were unlikely to come true.

The door opened behind him, and Silas, Caro, and their four boisterous children tumbled into the room. Garson set aside his untouched tea and rose to greet his friends. He intercepted a glance between Silas and Caro that conveyed their consternation at finding him closeted with Morwenna. Clearly he hadn’t been the only one expecting melodrama, should this meeting ever take place.

Within half an hour, Caro and Morwenna left for Fenella’s house, and the children were safely ensconced in the nursery. Garson was at last alone with Silas in his library. With a sigh, he collapsed into a leather chair. After the long ride and months of emotional turmoil, he was exhausted, yet so jumpy, he could hardly keep still. Outside rain crashed against the windows as the storm set in.

Silas stood at the sideboard and poured two brandies without asking Garson’s preference. “Here. I suspect you need this.”

Garson accepted the glass and swallowed a mouthful. The liquor did little to soothe his disquiet. “Thanks.”

Silas took the chair opposite and sipped his own brandy, as he eyed Garson with a doubtful expression.

“Relax,” Garson said drily. “I’m not about to rampage around the house smashing the Ming vases.”

Silas didn’t smile. “That must be the first time you and Morwenna have been alone since she went back to Robert.”

“It was.” He lifted his glass to his lips. A distant corner of his mind remarked on the steadiness of his hand. So often, he’d fantasized about seeing his old love and finally getting a chance to talk to her and tell her his side of the story. Now they’d met, and in the end, the sad truth was there was nothing left to say.

“And you survived.”

“I did.” The churning whirlpool of emotions inside him calmed to a point where he could reflect on what had just happened. “I did,” he repeated more slowly.

“Good for you.”

An unexpectedly companionable silence fell. “I’m sorry I’ve been a stranger,” he said eventually.

“You’ve had other things to worry about.” Silas rose to refill their glasses. Garson waved him away. He didn’t need liquor. He needed to make some decisions.

“Jane’s left me.” The bald admission should sting his pride, but he was way past the point where his pride mattered.

Silas set the decanter down without filling his glass and regarded Garson with a troubled frown. “I’m damned sad to hear that. Anthony said that she’d gone to the country for a rest.”

“You didn’t believe that.”

“Perhaps not.” Silas returned to his seat. “But I assumed any estrangement was only temporary.”

Garson stared sightlessly in front of him. “I hoped so, too.”

“Morwenna?”

“Yes.”

“And now after all this time, you’ve seen her again.”

“Yes.”

Another silence, thornier than the last.

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Jane?”

Silas looked surprised at Garson’s instinctive response. “No, Morwenna.”

He prepared to deliver his usual heated declaration of eternal fealty to his first choice, then stopped before he spoke a word.

Was he still in love with Morwenna? He’d certainly loved her when he’d proposed to her. Since she’d forsaken him, he’d carried her image etched on his heart. Over the last four years, she’d been behind his every action. He’d pledged himself to her for life.

But had he? Meeting her just now had been touching and disturbing and awkward, but no overwhelming torrent of frustrated longing had risen to drown him.

She felt like someone he’d once known well and now met as almost a casual acquaintance.

While his reeling mind grappled with the prodigious change, habit shrieked that he couldn’t give up his impossible love. Since she’d returned to her husband, Morwenna’s absence had thwarted his every hope of happiness.

Look how his loyalty to his first love had poisoned his marriage to Jane and stopped him making a full commitment to the woman he married. At this moment, he wondered whether Jane was better off without him, after he’d caused her so much unhappiness.

A great howl of denial writhed in his belly. Not if he had anything to say about it.

So where did that leave his feelings for Morwenna? He’d pledged his love, and he’d stayed true to his word for nearly four agonizing years. But in all that time, he’d only seen her twice.

Was it possible that while the Morwenna of his dreams remained alive in his heart, the real Morwenna turned into a stranger?

“I loved her so much,” he said slowly, as the babbling muddle in his head faded to allow the voice of reason to speak. 

“I know you did, old chum.” Silas leaned forward and linked his hands between his spread knees. “It was deuced hard watching you break your heart over her.”

Garson’s brows lowered, noting that they both spoke of his great love in the past tense. When the devil had that happened? “I’m not a fickle man.”

Silas’s snort expressed derisive amusement. “Anything but.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes.”

Garson blinked to clear the haze obscuring his vision. Then he blinked again, as excruciating self-knowledge struggled up toward the light. Good God, how utterly he’d botched his life. And he didn’t know if he could ever fix it. “You know, I’ll always remember her fondly, but I don’t think I’m in love with her anymore.”

“No.”

“You don’t sound surprised,” he said, with a hint of resentment.

Silas’s gaze remained unwavering. “I think you’re in love with your wife.”

Garson scowled at his friend. “You just want everyone to have a happy marriage like yours. You’re indulging in wishful thinking.”

“Am I?”

Was he? Garson slumped back against his chair as the full magnitude of his idiocy struck him like boulders falling off a mountainside. “Oh, hell.”

Silas sat back, as if he’d finally got the answer he sought. “I know Jane’s in love with you.”

She had been. And he was in love with her. Madly. Desperately. Forever.

It all seemed so simple, now he finally understood. For too long, he’d been blind to the truth in his heart.

Garson had loved Jane for weeks, probably since he’d married her, at least since their unconventional honeymoon. Before she left, she’d tried to get it into his thick skull that they were the perfect match. And they were. She was just the woman for him. Smart. Good. Passionate. Open-hearted. And brave. Much braver than he’d been.

How cruel he’d been to her, how thoughtless, how utterly self-centered. He cringed to recall his categorical rejection of her love, when she must have needed every ounce of courage to confess how she felt.

Devil curse him, he’d hurt her so badly. “I’ve made such a bloody hash of everything.”

Silas sighed. “So I gather.”

Guilt and despair battered him. “How can she ever forgive me?”

“No question you’ve been a fool. Love turns every man into a nincompoop.”

At a loss about his next move, Garson stared at his friend. “What in Hades will I do if it’s too late?”

Silas stood and crossed to set an encouraging hand on his shoulder. “First find out if she’ll give you the time of day.”

“But I’ve been such an utter bastard,” he said bleakly.

Silas’s smile was wry. “Then say you’re sorry, tell her you love her, and ask her to give you another chance.”

“What if she won’t have me? I wouldn’t blame her.”

“I wouldn’t either. You’ve been a complete dunderhead. But I’m always astounded at the generosity that lurks in the hearts of women.”

His shoulders hunched in despair. “She probably won’t even see me.”

Silas sighed again and crossed to pick up the decanter. This time Garson didn’t wave him away. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Losing Morwenna nearly killed me.” Garson took a gulp of brandy, but it didn’t help. “It will be worse if I lose Jane.” Going on without his wife by his side would curse him to an eternal darkness that would make his moping about Morwenna look like a stroll in Green Park.

“Take heart, my friend. And have courage.” Silas returned to his chair and raised his glass in Garson’s direction. “Sometimes love means throwing yourself off a cliff, without knowing whether a safe landing waits at the bottom.”