trunk with his help first and make sure all is in order before turning over my clothing to the staff.”
“Certainly.”
“I asked Therese earlier to check the coat I had been wearing when I arrived. There was a letter in the inside pocket—do you know if she found it? It was without an envelope. Cream paper, folded in half, then in fourths to fit within the pocket.”
“A letter?” Did he mean Lord Damion’s letter? One was given to every client at the conclusion of their meeting as a receipt of sorts that also included encouragement toward the betterment of their lives.
“It is very important to me,” Harry said, smoothing the bedcovers across his hips.
Fearing she might look too concerned, she forced a smile to make sure she didn’t betray any knowledge of this letter. “A love letter, then?”
“No.” Mr. Stillman shook his head. “A letter from a . . . friend. A friend who was assisting me in some matters of business.”
“Ah,” Sabrina said. “Is he the same friend you have been corresponding with these last days—one Mr. Gordon of London?”
It would be silly to pretend she did not know about the letters going back and forth in her messenger pouch. Of course, they were all sealed, so she did not read them herself, but Mr. Gordon sent her daily updates of their communication. It was absurd that all this was happening in one household. Maybe one day she would laugh about it, though she would be laughing alone, which made it far less funny.
“No, a different friend. Therese has not found the letter, then?”
“She did not mention to me that you had asked after it, but I shall follow up with her. It was in your coat, you say?
“Yes, the letter offered some encouragement I would find helpful to revisit amid all this.” Mr. Stillman picked at the bedspread and then looked up. “I would like to be reminded that at least one person has faith in me.”
She watched him, suspecting his humility might be manipulation on his part. “You do not have faith in yourself, Mr. Stillman?”
He shrugged. “I’m not sure if I have faith in anyone. Or anything.” He met Sabrina’s gaze, and, as before, she felt pinned by the intense blue. “Are you a woman of faith, Lady Sabrina?”
“I am,” she said.
“Then you believe people can change?”
“Change how, exactly?”
“Their character, who they have become, what they want from life.” He took a breath, then looked back at the coverlet, perhaps to hide the vulnerability his musings were bringing to the surface.
“I do believe people can change, Mr. Stillman, but I believe it takes more than a circumstance or even the desire. It takes work and fortitude and the willingness to be . . . uncomfortable as the changes take root.”
He looked at her. “You do not think being left for dead in an alley is enough to change a person?”
“No,” she said quickly and firmly. “Once you have regained your health and functionality, you will have choices to make day by day, sometimes hour by hour, in regards to the man you want to be. You will have to face the hardships of life without the vices that have cushioned you from the struggles. That will be the true test. This—” She waved toward him lying in the bed, incapable of doing anything for himself. “This is a chance to prove that change is possible. Your choices and abilities are limited now, so it will not be until after you leave here that you will know for certain if you can do the work necessary to live differently than you have so far.”
Had he paled slightly as she’d shared her advice? She took a step toward him. “Are you all right, Mr. Stillman?”
“Maybe there are those who cannot overcome their nature, no matter how badly they want to.”
That soft place inside her heart became softer. How frightening it would be to think yourself incapable of improvement. “I believe the only people who cannot change are those who are unwilling to face the pain behind the poor choices they have made. Certainly, there are those people. You, however, are not one of them.”
He startled. When he spoke, it was a whisper. “How can you know that?”
“Because you are asking the right questions.” She smiled. “And asking the right questions will lead you to the answers that most men do not really want to find.”
They looked at one another, and she waited to see him soften, but he continued