A stunned Sarani looked like she was considering her reply before she spoke. Rhystan would back her up no matter what, but he waited. “Thank you for saying that, Your Grace,” she said softly. “It’s hard when those who are different from others have to earn respect instead of it being afforded as a basic courtesy, but I can’t fault you for owning up to what you did. It takes great strength of character…and if I hope to honor my own mother’s and father’s teachings, it would behoove me to be equally gracious. We all make mistakes. What matters is that we learn from them.”

God, Rhystan wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her. She was in a word…queenly.

The duchess bowed her head. “I intend to. I truly am sorry.”

“Then I accept your apology.”

His mother let out a ragged breath. “So that’s it,” she said, her gaze drifting to Rhystan. “That’s what I came to say.”

She stood there, uncertain, and suddenly looking rather old and frail. He let out a breath. It took both courage and humility to admit when one was wrong, reinforcing his thought that the duchess was one of the strongest women he knew.

He stood and pulled her into his arms. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Oh, oh, dear boy,” she whispered, hugged him back, and then pulled away, dabbing at her eyes. “That’s quite enough. Wouldn’t want the servants eavesdropping outside that door to think I’ve gone soft now.”

Ravenna’s cheeks were wet, and even Sarani had a suspicious sheen to her eyes.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Rhystan asked.

The dowager duchess smiled. “I would like nothing more.”

* * *

Sarani’s heart had swelled for both Rhystan and Ravenna. What had happened at breakfast had been a step toward them reconnecting as a family and the only thing she had ever wanted for him. For someone who had no family left, she knew how important it was to hold on to the loved ones you had. Her Grace’s astonishing confession, while heartwarming, didn’t change anything for her, however. She still had to leave.

“There, Princess, those trunks are packed,” Asha said, neatly stacking a few hatboxes to the side. Most of the fancier clothes would be donated to a local orphan asylum, where the residents could take what they needed and sell the rest. A sleepy seaside village in Cornwall did not require formal ballgowns. And now that Sarani’s banker in Bombay had been able to transfer the rest of her inheritance to London, she had no immediate need of money. Once the dust settled with Talbot, she intended to return to Joor. Something would have to be done about Vikram.

“Thank you, Asha.”

Tej pouted, sitting on one of the trunks. “I don’t understand why you have to leave. Everyone is talking about the duchess saying she was sorry.”