Page 345 of From Rakes to Riches

“We’ll accompany you,” Raphael offered, jerking back a little when his brother held up a hand against him.

“No,” he said fiercely. “I have my carriage. The plan hasn’t changed, Raphael, so you must go. And if you do something impetuous and get yourself killed, I’ll follow you into the afterlife and make your eternity a living hell.”

“Brothers.” The Duchesse made an amused sound that no one seemed to mark.

“I will meet you.” Gabriel thrust a finger at his brother. “London isn’t safe for you to show your face anymore.”

Raphael stormed forward in protest. “But how can I?—”

“Ca suffit, Raphael!” he snarled, causing everyone to start.That’s enough.His enormous shoulders sagged, and he placed a hand against the wall as if he needed it to hold him up for a moment. “Just let this be easy for once. Let me not have to fight. I’m so fuckingtiredof fighting. Just...go. So I can follow.Vive la vie.”

Live life.

Mercy held her breath as she watched Raphael do the same, she watched the war wage within him. Love and worry for his brother, the need to survive...

Finally, he nodded. “Vive la vie.”

The leviathan paused for an imperceptible moment and Mercy thought his gaze might have shifted back to Felicity.

It was impossible not to have soft feelings for her sister, even for a man as hard as he.

Finally, he strode away so straight and tall, one might not even notice the drops of blood he left behind.

The shadows seemed to welcome him as one of their own, and Mercy stared into them long after his shape had disappeared.

Not because of the man who’d slid into their embrace, but because of the man behind her. The one whose embrace she craved the very most.

The one who was leaving.

Suddenly she wished the world would disappear, so she could give him a proper goodbye.

“Raphael.” It was the Duchesse who said his name. “Gabriel told me that you two have Mathilde’s ashes. That you have booked tickets to take her to places that were special. Places that we—she and I—were planning to visit together.”

Needing to see him, Mercy turned and found his eyes upon her even as he replied to the Duchesse. “That was...on our itinerary, yes.”

She stepped forward, a proud woman unused to asking for favors. “It seems providential, don’t you think, that she and I were planning on taking my ship around the world. That we were going to lose ourselves, or perhaps find ourselves in foreign ports. If you are in need of losing yourself as well...I think Mathilde would have been happy for us to keep each other company and remember her.”

“Duchesse,” he said carefully. “I am honored...I...”

“I think you may call me Amelie. I would prefer to put my days as a Duchesse behind me.” She pulled off her mask as if freeing herself from a mantle borne too long. Flicking a coy gaze at Mercy, she said, “I will go to my little boat to have the staff ready it. We will be prepared to stop and gather anything or...anyone you may wish to take with you before we board my ship.”

“Merci,” Raphael breathed, looking a little dazed.

Above them, in the keep, Mercy was aware of an inferno eating at a piece of precious history.

And it felt like a candle compared to what burned in her bosom as she looked at him.

“This is your chance at freedom.” She summoned a smile from somewhere, pasting it onto her stiff and brittle lips. “I have...much to thank you for.”

She glanced to Morley, who stood looking rather uncomfortable, though whether from their conversation or the weight of the woman in his arms, it was difficult to tell.

“Well.” She smoothed down her dress, soiled by the extraordinary events of the night. “If you ever do come back to London, I can’t promise I’ll still be at Cresthaven. But youcan find me Thursdays at the Eddard Sharpe Society. I hope you’ll...that we’ll...see each other.”

Dammit, was she going to cry? Not in front of him. Anything but that.

Why did her heart have to choosenowto break?

Why did saying goodbye seem like the worst thing that would ever happen to her?

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