A few hours later, Reese sat at the desk in his bedchamber. Alone.

He’d promised Sophie that he’d read the letters from Conroy’s wife, and he intended to.

In an odd way, the task seemed less daunting now. Loving Sophie and letting her go had been the hardest thing he’d ever done or would do. If he’d survived that trial, he could survive anything.

He’d wanted to scream as she walked to the hackney cab. He’d wanted to drop to his knees and beg her not to go. The thought of her marrying someone else made him physically ill—as though his whole body rejected the knowledge that he wouldn’t be the one who woke up next to her and who gave her flowers. The one who made her smile.

But he couldn’t ask her not to marry Singleton. Her family meant everything to her, and he admired her for wanting to help them. The truth was that he couldn’t offer her a better future than Singleton.

Marriage to the marquess would give her status, security, and stability. She’d have someone to escort her to balls and the theater and the opera. She’d be embraced by the highest echelons of society and move in the finest circles. She’d never have to worry about her family’s finances.

Most importantly, she’d never wake in the middle of the night to find the man beside her thrashing in sweat-soaked sheets and crying out like a madman.

Swallowing the bitterness in his throat, Reese broke the seal on the letter he held and unfolded it. His hand shook as he began to read.

Dear Lord Warshire,

I write to you with a heart that is surely broken beyond repair. William was the center of the world for me and for our two young daughters. Even when he was away, he made sure we wanted for nothing. In his frequent letters he never failed to tell us how deeply we were loved.

In those letters he also told me a little of his daily life and often mentioned you. It’s clear he held you in the highest regard, and I felt compelled to tell you how much William respected and admired you.

I understand you recently lost your own brother and offer my deepest condolences. If your grief is anything like my own, it feels like huge waves are crashing over you, threatening to drag you under. But I take some solace in knowing William was doing what he loved, for the people he loved, alongside men he loved like brothers.

If you are ever in London and have an hour or two to spare, I would greatly appreciate the chance to meet you in person and hear your memories of my dear William. Please call on us at any time.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Sarah Conroy