Daniel had confessed the worst of his sins, and she hadn’t pushed him away and fled the room. He’d bared his soul, and she hadn’t flinched at the ugliness inside him.

He’d expected nothing less—this was Lettie. The girl he’d teased mercilessly due to her bleeding heart, her way of looking at every situation and seeing the best of it; the best of every person involved.

That woman was still in there…somewhere.

And she was fighting to get out.

But he needed to get her to see that. To realize that, yes, war had changed her, but it had not extinguished her goodness, her innocent way of looking at the world. It had only altered how she responded to life’s many challenges.

Her experiences hadn’t broken her—nor should she allow them to define her. She needed to focus all her pent-up pain and channel it into something good.

With that, Daniel was certain her healing would come.

It was the purpose he also longed to find.

“There is a certain weight lifted, an unburdening, when one speaks of what holds them down.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, lighter than before, but holding so much more…hope. He hadn’t felt so divested in years. Ripped wide before Lettie, and she hadn’t turned away in fear or disgust. “Tell me what holds you down? What keeps you from breathing freely?”

Daniel pulled back, giving her space to think—and breathe.

For a brief moment, he sensed her pulling away and shutting him out again as she stared into the unlit hearth across the room.

She pulled her hand from his grasp, and his heart plummeted.

What was possible for him, may not be for Lettie. Could it be her wounds ran too deep?

Lettie clenched her fists on her lap and began to talk. Quietly at first, so low he had to strain to hear her. “No one can imagine the carnage, death, and loss of war. The worst part is that as time passes, it all becomes routine. The blood, the cries of pain, and the hardships all become normal. They fail to shock a person. It all becomes a part of life. It even becomes common to overlook the far-reaching consequences of a soldier’s death. It is not only the loss of life, but also the damage it does to others. A mother and father lose a son. A wife loses her husband. A child loses his or her father. Entire families are left destitute.”

“I can understand how this can happen,” Daniel volunteered.

“I did not understand my loss of sensitivity until Gregory died, only saw myself as doing the tasks expected of me: bandaging the injured, stitching wounds, treating fevers. I worked tirelessly, doing all I could to make camp life easier for Gregory and the other soldiers. When there was no one to tend to, I washed and mended uniforms, and cooked meals. It was dawn to dusk labor, and sometimes late into the night.” She paused, finally bringing her eyes back to his. “I became jaded by the sight of death and violence. The sound of cannons or musket fire no longer startled me. I could prepare an entire meal in the rain with the shouts of charge in the distance. By the time Gregory was wounded—and had died—I’d stopped fearing death was a possibility for him at all. He was invincible to me.”

“I am so sorry, Lettie.” Daniel leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss to her temple. “He was a brave man, far braver than I could ever hope to be.”

She shook her head. “Just because a man is willing to die on a battlefield does not make him any more courageous than those who stay behind when their loved ones go to war.” Her hands trembled, and she clutched her skirt. “All my work, all the heartache, and these families may never know the final resting place of their soldier. May never be given the closure I was lucky enough to have. They have no promise of anything to come to help raise their children, keep a dry roof over their heads and food on their tables.”

“You cannot assume responsibility for all these people.” However, it was exactly something Lettie would think to do.

“That does not stop the guilt of knowing I returned to London to a home, fine clothes, and a guaranteed future, no matter my husband is dead. My mother’s title will still pass to me after her death. My family will always take care of me, even if I never collect the many pieces of myself. Even you…you are more than most war widows have: the simple support of a friend.”

“Mayhap it is your destiny to fix that, at least for those needing you.” It was the purpose she needed.

“My parents will never allow this.” She hung her head in shame.

“Do you need their approval?” he asked. “Lettie, you were put on this earth to make it a better place. That is something they know.”

“But giving to those less fortunate than us?” Lettie shook her head. “My mother believes in charitable work, but nothing that actually makes a difference. Knitting caps and mittens for children only does so much if the family’s basic needs are not met. They will never agree to allow me access to my dowry if I only plan to give it away.”

“Then let me help you.” His hand lifted and settled against her cheek. He needed her to see the sincerity of his offer. “You can have all my money, everything I have, to start until they are convinced and allow you access to your dowry or you marry. And if the man is ignorant enough not to support your work, then you will continue to have control of my assets.”

“You cannot mean that,” she breathed. Her intense stare searched his face.

“But I do.” And he wanted to be at her side during it all: helping her, guiding her, supporting her in any way he could. If she only needed him to lift heavy things or drive her about in his carriage, Daniel would do that. “Life must have purpose, and I believe your purpose is helping others. You tended the wounded, and now you can actively help women and children who’ve lost a loved one at war. I promise to do all in my power to aid you, be there for you like I should have been all those years ago.”

“Do not say that, Daniel,” she said in a steady, low-pitched voice with no hint of a tremble. “It was I who left you. Instead of trying to figure out what had sent you on a downward spiral, I met Gregory, married, and fled London; however, that does not mean I did not think of you often.”

His hopes soared at her confession.

“I thought of you every day, Lettie.” Blast it all, but it was the truth. There was no going back, no denying it any longer. “I’ve loved you since childhood. I loved you when I couldn’t love myself. I agreed to end our betrothal out of love for you, and I blame myself every day for not fixing myself, pulling myself out the depression I was in, and claiming you as mine. When you left England, my reason for going on was gone. Any ounce of me that had longed to be a better person disappeared when you did. You are my past, my present, and my future. I had no future once you were gone. I was a boat left to drift at sea without the promise of rescue.”

She pulled her hands from his grasp and leapt to her feet.

He’d bared his soul and there was nothing left to do but accept her reaction to his honesty. Daniel had no room left in his life for regrets.