The journey home in the carriage was a long silent one. In the corner Hattie sat and stared at the lion pin which she now held in her hand. She was angry enough with Will for having made a mess of things with the beggars, but she reserved the center of her rage for herself.

When the carriage stopped at her brother’s house, she did not wait for Will or Francis to help her down. As soon as the footman opened the door, she rose from her seat, gave a perfunctory good night, and climbed out. She went inside Edgar’s house without looking back.

Knowing Miranda would want to know how her evening had gone, Hattie waited inside the front door until the Saunders’ family carriage had gone. She then walked the short distance back to her old home and took a seat in the back garden.

A short while later Will appeared from out of the house, carrying a lantern.

“Mrs. Little said you were sitting out here, mind if I join you?”

She got to her feet.

“I’m sorry, old habits die hard. This was always the place I came as a child when I was out of sorts. Forgive me if I forget that this is no longer my home,” she replied.

She began to walk toward the garden gate. Will took hold of the edge of her cloak, and pulled her back to him.

“But it could be your home. It should be your home. You just have to say that you want it to be. I can speak to Edgar tonight?”

Tears threatened, but Hattie knew she had to hold herself together this time. To make Will understand.

“I cannot marry you Will. I have had my doubts all along, but tonight the truth was made clear to me.”

He sighed.

“I’m sorry if you think I was a little heavy handed with the way I went about rescuing you from that group of beggars. But, you should not have wandered over to them on your own. It was a rash thing that you did. You were without my protection, anything could have happened to you.”

In the dark moonlit garden, Hattie found it hard to read Will’s expression, but she knew her own mind.

“And therein lies the problem,” she replied.

He searched her face, while she saw only confusion and hurt written upon his own.

“I give up, I can't fathom you. Am I not allowed to give a damn about your safety? Tell me Hattie. Make me understand,” he pleaded.

For a moment she was at a loss as to what to say. But Will was right, she had to make him understand. She pressed on.

“The first time we met I was trying to escape a life where my husband would control my entire existence. My heart tells me that if I married you it would be the same. The second I accept your proposal you will be telling me what to do. And just as importantly what not to do. Which is exactly what you attempted to do tonight. You barreled into that group of people without a thought for them. You were single minded in your need to drag me away and back into your world,” she said.

The spark of bravery she had felt that sunny morning off the coast of Spain reignited within. With her back straight, she raised her head and met Will's piercing gaze full on.

“So, you are saying I am a controlling male?” he ground out.

As a huff of disgust escaped her lips, she saw anger flash in his eyes.

“Yes. You are a gentleman of a certain class and I am yet to meet one of you who does not think women exist to do your bidding. You cannot stand me attending to my mission. Will, you don’t seem to want to understand that the poor and destitute of London are my life’s work. I have walked into crowds of beggars many times before, each time bringing them a little hope. Tonight however, was the first time I have brought fear and pain. Fear and pain that came because of you.”

Hattie swallowed her own lump of fear.

“I’m sorry. I lost sight of you and I panicked. I worry about your safety and wellbeing Hattie, that is all. And yes, when we do marry I expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety. You clearly don’t see danger when it is in front of you,” replied Will.

“I don’t understand this overwhelming need to protect me. I’ve been working my mission for a long time. Longer than I have known you. And yes, sometimes things do go awry, but that is the risk that comes with my work. I understand that and I accept it.”

Will raked his fingers through his hair, and sighed. He held out his hand to her.

“Hattie, please come inside the house. I think it is time that I told you the truth of Yvette’s death,” he said.

* * *

Hattie followed Will inside and into her father’s old sitting room. Will poured them both a brandy. He took a seat in the chair opposite to her and sat silent for a time.

“For many reasons, some of them being a matter of national security, I cannot tell you the whole story. When we marry, you will have to accept that there are some things of my time away from England, that I can never share with you,” he said.

Hattie ignored his stubborn statement about their future marriage. There was not point starting that argument again. If they could not get past their differences, no matter what Will demanded, there would be no wedding.

“During the war, I was a spy for the British government. I spent three years living undercover in Paris working to help bring Napoleon down. After the mess he made attempting to invade Russia, the British government and its allies were hopeful that his powerbase was weak enough for an attempt to topple him. I volunteered to go to France.”

Hattie sat and stared at her brandy glass. She had never fully believed the story that he was in the import trade, it didn’t match what she did know of him to be true.

His having been a spy made far more sense. His need to constantly check and double check details. His need to sit facing the door. His need for control.

“Yvette was a French agent, part of an undercover team working with a number of foreign governments, including Britain to bring Napoleon down. I met her not long after I arrived in France. Being married was a good cover for us. Eventually our marriage of convenience, became a real one. We fell in love.”

His gaze remained fixed on the carpet. A deep line was etched in his brow. Hattie wondered if Will had ever had this conversation with anyone else.

“Being a spy is a dangerous game. One false move and you can find yourself on the wrong end of a blade. Yvette went out on her own to meet with an informant. It turned out that the informant was actually one of Napoleon’s agents and he murdered her.”

Will screwed his eyes shut as tears began to roll slowly down his cheeks. Hattie remained in the chair, instinct telling her that pity was the last thing he needed at this moment. She ached to reach out and hold him.

He wiped the tears away. “She was so much like you, at times it takes my breath away. You talk of knowing the streets of London, well Yvette knew the lanes and rooftops of Paris. She was fearless, as are you. I have never doubted your bravery Hattie. But there is one thing you do have in common with her that scares the life out of me. You don’t sense danger until it is too late.”

Hattie could not argue with Will on that point. She had done some foolish things and barely gotten away with them. The beating she had received at the hands of the Belton Street gang had been a lesson painfully learned.

“But, I am not her. You cannot compare us on such a simplistic level. She was a spy, that comes with an entirely different set of risks from that of working with the poor in the rookery.”

“Yet, if I ordered you not to go to Plumtree Lane, you would still go, wouldn’t you?” he replied.

A creeping worry entered Hattie’s mind. Did Will somehow blame himself for Yvette’s death; and was this where his need to dictate the terms of their relationship stemmed from? She sensed they were close to the truth. She decided to gamble on asking the right but fearful question.

“Where were you when Yvette died?” she asked.

It was cruel and the second she uttered the words Hattie wished them away, but she knew if they did not address the issue of Yvette’s death, they would never get passed it. The poor girl who had suffered such a terrible and premature death would forever stand between them.

She felt nothing but utter sadness and grief for the young woman she would never know, yet somewhere deep in her heart she would always have a place for Yvette. They shared a bond which no one else could.

They both loved Will.

He put a hand over his face and went silent for a long time. Hattie sat with her hands softly in her lap, rolling her two thumbs in a circle over and over.

Will finally got to his feet.

“Are there events in your life that you wish you could go back and relive? Moments that at the time you did not understand their impending significance, but which changed your life forever.

I have relived that day in my mind a thousand times. How different our lives would have been if she had followed orders. If instead of getting drunk and passing out in some tavern miles from Paris, I had listened to my instincts and gone home to make sure she bloody well did as I had told her. But by the time I sensed that something terrible was about to happen, it was too late to save her. She was already dead by the time I got back to Paris.”

Hattie swallowed back tears. Her worst suspicions were now confirmed. Will did blame himself for Yvette’s death. The guilt he carried, clouded his every thought of Hattie.

She had to make him see that loving someone meant accepting them for their faults and mistakes. It also meant allowing them to make their own choices, even if he did not agree with them.

As she rose from the chair, their gazes met. She held firm as Will searched her face, his look of pleading was heartbreaking.

“Thank you. I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you to finally confide in me. To share the truth. Now that I know what really happened to Yvette, I have a clearer understanding of your motives regarding myself. In a way, I also feel that I know her a little better now. Her mission to save her country meant a great deal to her, as does my work with the poor.”

She reached up on her toes and kissed him. When Will attempted to deepen the kiss, Hattie pulled away.

“What needs to happen now Will, is for you to make a choice. You must decide if you can live with a wife who is exposed to danger as part of her work. I love you Will, I do with all my heart. But not even for you, will I give up my life’s calling.”

* * *

Will walked Hattie home to Edgar’s house, ignoring her protests of being safe for the short distance between the houses. After he returned to number forty-three, he went back to the sitting room and poured himself another brandy.

It was apparent to Hattie’s mind, that they were at an impasse. For Will, while it had been a challenging evening, he was able to see that they had made unexpected progress.

Hattie now knew the truth of Yvette’s death. That secret no longer lay between them. There was an odd sense of relief in having passed that point in their relationship. While Hattie did not agree with Will’s need to protect her, she at least now had somewhat of an understanding of his motives. She knew what lowering his guard had once cost him.

He set the glass down on the table, and pondered the other unexpected, but welcome development of the night.

She loved him. She had spoken the words.

The decision he now faced was what to do with that new knowledge. She wanted more than his wealth or social connections could give, she wanted a true partnership. A marriage where she would be able to make her own choices. Where he would have to let go of the need to control.

The challenge now lay in how they could find a way forward. How they could forge a future together where both could be happy.

The problem he faced was the sure knowledge that he would never be happy having his wife working in the dangerous streets of St. Giles.

The clock in the sitting room chimed the hour of twelve. He was tired, but his mind was too restless to consider sleep.

Hattie had made it clear that if she was ever to consider living back in his world, then she would have to be able to keep her work.

“Fool”, he muttered.

Grabbing his coat, he headed downstairs and hailed a hack outside.

“St. John’s church, Holborn, please,” he instructed the driver.