“That I killed my father?” Rett’s head shook. “Did she know that her son, her only child, took the life of the only man she truly loved?”
Instead of answering, I let Rett continue.
“I never told her.”
“Did she know?”
“If she did, she made the decision to not confront me. I suppose she understood enough of the world to realize her choice: acknowledge what I’d done and lose her husband and her son or be the grieving widow and hold tight to her son. She chose the second option.”
I nodded. I didn’t know much about Miss Marilyn, but if I were to believe Miss Guidry, his mother loved Rett. It was true what was said about love blinding people. It didn’t have to be the sensual love between two people. A mother’s love could also be blinding.
“From everything you and Miss Guidry say, I would have liked to meet her.”
It was his first smile. “I wish you could. I suppose in a way I’m responsible for her death too.”
I sat up with my hand on his chest, the fabric of his shirt holding his body heat. “You’re too quick to assign your own blame.”
“No, I’m in charge of everything. I’m ultimately responsible.”
“How are you responsible for her death?”
“She never asked what happened, but the loss of my father left her—brokenhearted. Death by a broken heart. I suppose that’s why mine is gone, a way to ensure I never suffer the same ailment.”
His confessions made me sad. I didn’t want to think about the particulars, what exactly happened in that warehouse or how Miss Marilyn suffered without Abraham. Instead, I wanted to help Rett.
“What made you decide to wear the ring?” I asked, moving away from the subject of Miss Marilyn.
“You asked me to, Emma.”
I grinned. “I asked foraring. In this magical jewel-filled safe, does there not exist any other masculine rings?”
“I didn’t look.” He was back to peering upward toward the sky. “I knew which ring I wanted when I set out for the safe. I earned this ring. Not by taking my position. Not by facilitating the death of our fathers, but in the seven years since. Taking power isn’t as difficult as maintaining it. I’ve done that. Having you here beside me has brought that home.”
He looked down and turned his hand so ours were palm to palm. Our fingers intertwined as he continued, “My father was a better man than I am. He ruled without question but didn’t lose his heart. Even with Boudreau, they had a strange kind of understanding. I never understood it until you.”
“Me?”
“Emma, you belong here. I severed a longstanding agreement between our two families that I didn’t understand. I’ve survived over the last almost eight years, but I did so without living. In the last six weeks, I have gotten a taste of what life can be if I’m willing to reinstitute the generations-long agreement. We’re now married.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Signed, sealed, delivered. The certificate may say a Ramses and an O’Brien, but the reality is we are a Ramses and a Boudreau. Together we will rule the city, the parishes, and wards. New Orleans will continue its path forward, not only maintaining its position in the country and world but increasing its significance in the global arena.”
“I’m hardly ruling, Rett. I haven’t left this house in those six weeks you’ve found life.”
“There’s a lot you need to understand.”
“Then teach me.”
He was quiet for a bit as I again laid my head on his shoulder. The sound of our breathing lulled me into a sense of contentment. The faint thump of my pulse was a faraway drum. The evening air took on a chill as I huddled closer to Rett’s side.
After all that had transpired over the last few days, I was teetering on the brink of slumber when Rett spoke. “Mrs. Ramses, tomorrow evening, I propose a tour of your city and a dinner not in this house.”
I sat forward. “What about Kyle?”
“His quest is over. Once you’re made public, he won’t be able to substantiate his claim. Jezebel North had one child with Isaiah Boudreau, one pregnancy. You are that child.”
As Rett began to stir, I bit my tongue. If I didn’t, I would have asked him to stay or admitted I wanted to go with him. It wasn’t sex that I was after but what we had been doing, were sharing at this moment—his brutal honesty and sincerity.
Everett Ramses was a multidimensional and complicated man. The one with me tonight wasn’t the man I met at the restaurant, cocky and confident, domineering and self-assured. That wasn’t to insinuate that this Rett was any less the man who had captured my attention. In this shared moment under the blanket of stars, he became more. He exposed a layer he’d kept hidden. I recognized what he’d done as a present. It was as much a gift as the jewelry he’d given and the key he’d tied with a ribbon.
I walked with him to the door.