“Cecilia, what book were you reading today?”

At Laura’s question, Cecilia, who had been clutching her waist, looked up at her.

“A Study in Scarlet. Mrs. Chelsey lent it to me.”

“Oh, that famous Sherlock Holmes series. I’ve never read a single one. Is it fun?”

The child smiled brightly.

“Yes. It’s so, so fun. You should read it too, Miss.”

“I’m not very good with detective novels. Consuming gruesome events as entertainment feels a bit cruel to me. But if it’s a story Cecilia enjoys, I’d love to hear about it. Will you tell me what you’ve read?”

Cecilia grinned widely, grabbed Laura’s hand, and led her to the sofa. Laura handed her overcoat to the servant and sat close to Cecilia.

Cecilia began recounting the story of the cynical private detective Sherlock Holmes and the gentlemanly former army doctor, Dr. Watson, their meeting, and their adventures. Laura listened attentively, occasionally laughing or asking questions.

Seeing Laura focus on her story, Cecilia’s eyes shimmered with joy.

As the tale grew more thrilling, the bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Chelsey emerged. She held a bucket, a towel, and a folded razor, as if she had just finished assisting with Mr. Ashton’s shave.

“Oh, Miss Pendleton, you’re here.”

The lady smiled warmly with delight.

“Hello, Mrs. Chelsey. How much better is Mr. Ashton feeling?”

“Rejoice, Miss Pendleton. Mr. Perry, who visited today, said he’s now free to go out as much as he likes.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Hurry in and see. He’s waiting for you.”

Laura turned to Cecilia.

“Tell me the rest of the story later, alright?”

Cecilia looked reluctant but nodded obediently.

Laura rose from the sofa and walked toward the bedroom.

The bedroom window was flung open, curtains drawn wide, letting in the warm spring sunlight. He sat at the tea table chair, waiting for her.

Neatly trimmed hair, a freshly shaved jaw, and a face without a single scar. A deep green robe draped over his robust frame. He looked so pristine it was hard to believe he’d ever been a patient.

“Laura, welcome.”

He smiled brightly. His intelligent eyes, with their violet pupils, curved into crescents, and his captivating red lips formed a soft, upward arc. Deep dimples, always striking, carved into his cheeks.

Laura gave a slight curtsy and sat across from him.

“Mr. Perry said you’re well enough to go out now. Isn’t that nearly a full recovery?”

“Exactly. As long as I avoid strenuous activities like cricket or boxing, I can do anything.”

“That’s such a relief, truly.”

Laura smiled, speaking sincerely. His recovery was welcome news. She could finally set aside the burden she’d carried for him.

He gazed at Laura’s smile with a dazzled expression, as if beholding a precious sapphire radiating light from countless angles. It was always the same look when she smiled.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have recovered this quickly. I want to repay you.”

“I only stopped by occasionally to show my face.”

“No, that’s not true. You became Cecilia’s friend. Without you, our little girl would’ve fallen ill from grief. Then I’d have been too worried to focus on my treatment. I owe you a debt worth more than gold. Let me repay you.”

Laura, once again struck by what a good father he was, shook her head.

“If you did that, it would only create another burden on my heart. I kept visiting because I knew I’d feel heavy-hearted if I ignored your request. Now that you’re recovered, my heart is at ease again. So don’t weigh it down once more by offering a reward I don’t deserve.”

He gave a wry smile.

“Then how do I keep you here?”

Laura blinked.

“I know you won’t come back once your duty is done. Cecilia will feel lonely. She’s never had someone like you. She’ll surely feel your absence.”

“With you back, Cecilia will be fine.”

He looked at Laura with a wistful gaze.

“And… what about me?”

“…”

“What do I do now?”

The thought it’s come to this flashed through Laura’s mind.

He had always been careful in his words and actions during her visits. He never brought up old stories, overly praised her, or showed affection too openly.

But Laura had sensed it. Even as a patient, he always kept his hair neatly combed, shaved, and wore fragrant cologne while waiting for her. His face lit up whenever she appeared. His eyes sparkled with hope as he watched her get along with Cecilia.

He wanted to rebuild the bridge that had broken twelve years ago.

What am I to him? Does he think I’m a fool, still pining for him after being betrayed?

Laura’s expression calmed.

“You’re young. And a capable, fine man. You’ll surely find a woman who will love you. A woman who’ll be a good mother to Cecilia.”

“Laura.”

“I’m so glad you’ve recovered. Write to me once before you leave Bath. I’ll come see you off. Take care.”

Laura stood. Just then, his arm gently grasped her hand.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ll say goodbye to Cecilia. I’ll explain it to her in a way she’ll understand.”

“How about we go out for dinner together later? It’s almost six…”

“I have dinner plans with friends. Sorry.”

Laura spoke politely, trying to pull away from his grip. But he didn’t let go.

“If this is the last time, give me a moment. Five minutes. Just five. I have something to say.”

“What is it?”

“Why I didn’t come for you twelve years ago.”

Laura looked at John quietly. His eyes pleaded with her, just like the face that had once begged her to run away together twelve years ago.

Laura thought, Maybe he truly loved me. If so, it made it all the stranger. Why hadn’t he shown up? Why had he left her abandoned for twelve years without explanation?

If today is the last day with this man, I want to hear his reason.

Laura slowly sat back down, placing her hands neatly on her lap.

“Tell me.”

John Ashton remembered the events of twelve years ago vividly. The hope and anticipation as he packed his trunk. The excitement as he waited for the hired carriage to take him to Laura.

And the shock when, instead of the carriage, a four-wheeled coach arrived, and Mrs. Granchard’s lackeys poured out to abduct him.

That night, John was locked in a remote villa until dawn. It was hellish. Laura must be at Hyde Park by now, waiting for me. How anxious she must be. How despairing. How disappointed.

Unable to rush to her, he said he’d even wished for death.

Morning passed, and noon arrived. Someone entered the room where he was held. It was John Ashton’s parents.

His patron, Mrs. Granchard, had orchestrated his abduction to steer her wayward ward away from marrying a woman with a ruined reputation, and she’d summoned his parents.

They wept, pleaded, and even threatened to die if he married Laura. He tried to resist, but he couldn’t abandon his father, plagued by ailments from a lifetime of grueling labor, or his mother, exhausted from feeding and clothing nine children.

In the end, he chose to marry the wealthy woman Mrs. Granchard introduced.

“…After the marriage, I couldn’t love my wife. I’m sorry for her, but Laura, you were always in my heart. She knew about you. She must’ve heard the rumors circulating in London. Our marriage was a constant battle. She tried desperately to erase your memory from me. She’d rise at dawn to dress up, do anything to please me. Then, suddenly, she’d fly into a rage and throw things. She called me a hypocrite, a philanderer.”

Guilt shadowed his face.

“She said I called your name in my sleep. That I’d stare blankly at any woman with reddish-blonde hair. I wasn’t even aware, but she noticed because she was always watching me. Her early death was my fault. She hated me, hated you, and ended up hating herself. She thought she wasn’t charming enough to make me forget my old love. She loved me. That’s why she couldn’t bear that I could never fully be hers. Her heart broke, her body followed, and when she caught tuberculosis, she couldn’t fight it. She passed away.”

A faint sheen of tears glimmered in his eyes.

“I couldn’t explain my situation to you for twelve years for many reasons. I was ashamed to face you. I feared your father-in-law would never forgive me if he found out. But above all, I felt guilty toward my wife. Even writing to you would’ve felt like infidelity.”

A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Laura listened quietly. Her demeanor was composed, but her mind swirled with thoughts.

Knowing he hadn’t meant to toy with her made her pity him. He’d had to sacrifice love for his family. He’d endured an unhappy marriage with a woman he didn’t love for twelve years. And his beloved daughter, frail in health, kept him in constant worry.

But pity didn’t translate into tenderness, protectiveness, or affection.

Her head felt sorry for him, but her heart couldn’t.

He was weak-willed.

If he couldn’t betray his family, he should’ve stayed true to that choice. He should’ve banished the woman he could no longer have from his heart and loved the woman who became his wife. Had he done so, Mrs. Ashton might not have died. And Cecilia wouldn’t have lost her mother.

Laura felt deep compassion for the Mrs. Ashton she’d never known. How much despair must she have felt, living with a hollow shell of a husband? Worse, as soon as her funeral ended, he sought out his old love without even shedding his mourning clothes.