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Leila didn’t understand what one had to do with the other. Sarah was part of his past, a part that shaped the man he was today—a part that had led him to her.

“Tell me about her,” she prompted.

Gideon turned his head sharply to look at her, surprise evident in his features. “You want to know about a woman I used to love?”

She nodded without hesitation. “Very much.”

He seemed to contemplate her request for a moment, and she waited patiently. Finally, he settled more comfortably against the pillows and said, “Very well.” He paused again, as if pondering where to start. “Sarah was… she was very gentle. She could never say a mean word to anyone; she couldn’t even hurt a flower. Even when someone insulted her, she just smiled in response. She had the softest hands I’ve ever touched, aside from my daughters’. And she always wore a smile on her face.”

She was very different from me. “How did you meet?” Leila asked, curious about how he fell in love with such a soft woman who seemed to not fit into Gideon’s harsh world.

“She was a family friend’s daughter,” Gideon replied. “Her father had estates adjacent to ours in Yorkshire.”

“So you knew her since you were children?”

He grimaced slightly. “Yes, in a way. We met at various social gatherings over the years. Our families were friendly, so we were friendly too, but we weren’t exactly friends. She was a few years older than me, and our paths didn’t often cross.”

“Then how did you fall in love?” She turned to face him fully, eager to hear his story.

Gideon smiled at the memory, though his smile was tinged with sadness. “Our parents arranged a marriage between us when I was one and twenty,” he said. “My father was on his deathbed and wanted to see me married before he passed.”

Leila blinked in surprise. “It wasn’t a love match?”

He shook his head. “Not at first, no.

“She was five and twenty at the time, and by society’s standards, well on the shelf,” Gideon continued. “I never understood that. She was beautiful— a little shy, and she used to stutter in uncomfortable situations. But aside from that, she was genuinely lovely. She had kind eyes and a gentle manner. She should have had her pick of suitors during her first season, but she didn’t. I was too young to even think about courting anyone. Yet when my father brought up duty and heirs, I was eager to please.” He paused. “And I enjoyed her company. In my opinion then, that was enough.”

“We accepted our marriage easily enough. Sarah was a wonderful partner; she never complained about my long absences or questioned my work. She was a perfect hostess when I needed her to entertain and managed the household efficiently. At that time, I was an ambitious young earl, newly inducted into the Shadows, full of my own importance. I was proud and always busy—we barely saw each other except at formal dinners and social functions.”

He cleared his throat. “But we needed to produce an heir. That was our duty, after all. So we… spent time together for that purpose. However, the more we tried for children, the more nights we spent just talking afterward. Gradually, we fell in love.”

Leila found herself smiling at the simple yet enchanting love story. She knew how it ended but set that aside for now. “That sounds lovely,” she said softly.

“It wasn’t like bolts of lightning and thunder,” Gideon continued. “Nothing like what the poets write about. It was easy and comfortable. We used to joke that we didn’t fall in love so much as settle into it. It was a quiet kind of love, built on mutual respect and growing affection.

“I was young then, and it was perfect for what I thought I wanted in a marriage,” Gideon said. “But I wish…” He trailed off, a grimace marring his beautiful face.

“What do you wish?”

“I wish I had spent more time with her. With them,” he said finally. “My family. I think part of why I mourn them so deeply, for so long, is that I never truly got to know them. Not really. I spent very little time at home—always off on some mission, some grand purpose that seemed so important at the time. And if I spent too few nights with Sarah, I spent even fewer hours with my daughters.”

His voice roughened with emotion. “They were raised by servants, governesses, and nursemaids. I barely knew their personalities, their likes and dislikes. I don’t even know when they took their first steps or spoke their first words. I always planned to spend more time with them ‘next month’ or ‘after this assignment.’ I thought we had forever.”

Leila found his hand in the darkness, intertwining her fingers with his. “You couldn’t have known,” she said gently. “You chide yourself for believing you had an entire lifetime ahead of you, but most people think this way.”

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I suppose most people do. I feel—I felt immense guilt for all of it. For letting them die, for allowing them to live so long with my absences. It was ingrained in my being. And now… the pain is easing. I’m not certain I deserve that.”

He did. She knew he did. But she also understood that her words wouldn’t make an impact. He had to come to this realization on his own.

“If I have more children someday,” he continued quietly, “I would do it differently. I wouldn’t let servants raise them. I would feed them myself, bathe them, and tend to them when they were sick. I’d want to know everything about them—their favorite stories, what makes them laugh, what frightens them in the dark. I want it all, every mundane, precious moment I missed with Madeline and Emily.”

They had beautiful names, Leila thought.

She was quiet for a long time, processing his words.

“See?” she said lightly, though her voice was rough with emotion for everything Gideon lost. For the lives of his precious wife and daughters. “You don’t have to forget them to find happiness again. You can tell me everything you remember about Sarah and the girls. Every story, every memory. They’re part of you. They shaped who you are, made you the man I…” She paused, catching herself just before confessing to something she wasn’t certain was true, something that had been clawing at her chest for days. She licked her lips and continued, “They’re part of your story. I want to know that story, all of it.”

A beat of silence passed as Gideon stared at her in wonder. Then he reached for her, his palm sliding around her waist and pulling her closer. She responded easily, her body molding to his.