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“He is… truly gone?” Madeleine asked.

Alexander wasted no time in turning back to Madeleine, who had hurried down the pier after Donald had gone over the edge.

“This time? Yes.”

He gathered Madeleine in his arms, pulling her into a tight embrace. “You are not hurt.”

She shook her head. “Truly, no. But—Alexander, I am sorry for even coming here. I thought it had been a trap at first but I had no idea he?—”

Alexander held a hand up to her face, cupping the soft skin. His chest was so tight with the movement—he had truly thought he had lost Madeleine for good.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It is I, however, who must apologize to you. I should have told you that Donald was alive, Madeleine. I knew. I knew… that night you pushed me to tell you what had happened at the club. That is when I found out.”

He watched as her face turned from soft hope into hard fury. She shoved at him, pulling from his grasp, and he let her put the space between them she needed.

“You!” she cried. “Youknew! You knew he was alive—that he was a threat, and you did not tell me! He told me earlier, do you know? He told me that it would not be a surprise to you, that you went after him and beat him. Alexander, I am grateful you saved my life but you should have told me!”

He took her anger, letting her get it rightfully out of her.

“What would have happened if I had not stood up to him? He had a knife! And you left me—you pushed me away, knowing he was out here, knowing that nobody knew where he was. That gives him such power, Alexander!”

“I know,” he murmured. “I should have?—”

“Yes, you should have. You might not outright lie but you do not tell me the full stories. You are clever at omitting information, and I amtired of it. There are two of us in this marriage, and we both need to be on the same page if we have any hope of a future together. I will not stand for these half-truths. When there is something I must know—whether you like it or not, or think I need to hear it or not—youwilltell me regardless. Do not tryto fool me further with your heroic acts. I am not a damsel in distress, I am your wife.”

“I deserve all of your anger,” he agreed quietly. He reached out for her. To his own surprise, Madeleine let him pull her back towards him. “Come back to Silverton with me, Madeleine. Even if it is to yell at me. Just… just come back. I was a fool to not tell you what I knew, what he had threatened me with. More so a fool for pushing you away and thinking all would be fine. I thought I was protecting you?—”

“I do not need it,” she hissed.

“I know. I know, Madeleine. I see now that I was only running away from my own fears. I will never make that mistake again. I was in Horace’s office one day when one of his employees burst in and said they had seen Donald. We wrote him off as tired, overworked; we ignored the tale. And then, at the Kingswell ball, I saw one of Donald’s associates, and tried to keep you away, but I truly convinced myself I had been seeing things, that I was paranoid.

“And then Horace sent me the letter that day, another fight, another crisis at the Raven’s Den. They had been building up, patrons getting bolder and angrier. Only, when I arrived, Donald was waiting for me in Horace’s office. He told me that he would send the underworld of London after me if I did not let you go. He convinced me that my life—my business—put you in danger’s path and you were better off without me. Like a fool, I listened. He threatened me with revealing my ownership of the Raven’sDen. I was terrified, Madeleine, and I convinced myself you were better off away from me.”

“And now?” Madeleine asked. He could see her slowly processing everything. “Do you still think I am better off away from you?”

Alexander shook his head.

“I want to hear you say it,” she told him.

“No. No, you are not better off, and neither am I. I have been looking away from my feelings for you for a long, long time. I know what they are but I have been too cowardly to acknowledge them. I am a man of words, I know how to wield them, but in moments like these, when my heart is on the line, I find myself lost.”

“So tell me them,” Madeleine urged. “Tell me what is in your heart, Alexander, for it is the only way I can begin to forgive you. I must know how you feel.”

And the words came out without Alexander even preparing them, as if they had waited too long to be freed and he could hold them back no longer.

“I love you. I love you—and it terrifies me, Madeleine, for the thought of that love consuming me to the point of not knowing if you are safe with me or not?—”

Madeleine pressed a finger to his lips, shushing him. “I shall decide that for myself, husband.” He groaned at the way she claimed him with that title.

She stepped closer, her eyes falling to his mouth. “Yes, you have hurt me, but… you truly love me?”

Alexander forced the words back onto his tongue. More aware, they did not come as easily, and he knew that Madeleine would know it.

“I love you. I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. I love you so much I lose myself without you—I love you more than I think is even possible to express but those words are true, my actions from now truer.”

Madeleine’s eyes glistened with tears that quickly fell. She did not bother wiping them away.

Distrust was in her eyes as she watched him, as if waiting for him to run away.