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of letters, and threw them on the top of the desk in front of Lord Gallent. “Happy reading.”
    Lord Gallent picked up the first letter. “What is this?”
    Henry didn’t answer, but leaned back with his hands behind his head.
    Check.
    Lord Gallent shuffled through the letters. “I don’t know why you wish for me to read these.”
    But he kept reading and Henry knew exactly when the earl got to his wife’s name. The blood drained from his face , and he dropped heavily into the chair behind him.
    Checkmate.
    The earl’s fists clenched on top of the table , and Henry saw a blood vessel pound on the side of his neck.
    “He kept her letters,” Lord Gallent said.
    “He loved her.”
    “So did I.”
    “And you set her up so she had no choice but to marry you.”
    “I would do no less if I had it to do again.”
    “I don’t doubt it. You felt you had to do anything for the woman you loved.” Henry watched Lord Gallent closely. “I want — no need — you to understand I will do the same.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Exactly what it sounds like. I’ve been away from your daughter for five years , and I have no intention of being separated again.”
    “You are to marry Lady Elizabeth.”
    “I love your daughter.”
    “I despised your father.”
    Henry nodded. He had inferred as much from the letters. “Be that as it may, I am not my father. Whatever was between the two of you needs to die with him. I want what is best for Lady Emmaline. Maybe I’m full of myself, but I believe the best is me .”
    The shadows grew long in the room, but the silence seemed even deeper. Henry watched the warring expressions cross Lord Gallent’s face. Would he decide to do what was best for his daughter, or cho o se to live in the past?
    “What do you want?” Lord Gallent finally asked.
    “You were close to the salon that night . D id you hear anything that would help me get out of this marriage to Lady Elizabeth?”
    “I might be able to persuade Blakemore that his daughter’s best interests lie elsewhere.”
    “I would have you know, your daughter knows of the letters I wrote.”
    “Does she know…?”
    Henry shook his head. “No, she doesn’t know you kept them from her, but she’s smart. She’ll figure it out. I won’t keep the truth from her.”
    Lord Gallent seemed to think Henry’s words over. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    Three days later, Henry’s answer came by post.
    When the letter came, he crumpled it before dropping it into the fireplace.

 

Chapter Seven
     
    Emma ran her fingers over the engraved invitation to the Kringles ’ Christmas Eve Ball and looked up to her parents. “I cannot fathom why you insist I go.”
    Her mother wrung her hands. “It’s been so good to see you out again. I just hate to think of you stuck inside the house once more.”
    “You need to go,” her father said.
    She didn’t have it in her to go against her parents, but she dreaded thoughts of the ball. She knew Henry would be there with Elizabeth. How could she bear to go and observe all that had almost been hers?
    They would dance and she would force herself to watch. In fact, seeing them together would probably be a good thing. It would impress upon her the realities of what had transpired. All that had taken Henry out of her hands as easily as a gardener pruned a rosebush.
    “Very well. I’ll go.”
    ****
    Christmas Eve came with a new layer of snow that coated the ground in pristine white. Emma spent the morning at the orphanage. She baked sweets with the older girls, watched the boys build a snow fort, and rocked an infant who had been recently abandoned. And with every breath , she stared at the tree, remembering the day Henry cut it down.
    All around her people celebrated the season, and she felt herself sink deeper and deeper into a spiraling sadness.
    If I can just make it through tonight.
    I f she made it through the night, she could make it through anything.
    She put on a happy face for