William retreated to Cambridge the following day, but his accusation remained, growing in her chest until it had consumed her. Kit loved her, too. But along with the epiphany came another, more pressing one. Her future was being decided without her.
It wasn’t surprising, exactly. Somehow, she had always known that she was intended to become Eliza Brandon. It was one of the few things Mr. Brandon had ever communicated in her presence. Eliza Fowler—and her immense fortune—would remain under the Brandon roof. She would stay at Delaford, and she would eventually become lady of the house. But how that would be cemented hadn’t been of serious concern. At least, not as a child. But at seventeen years old, it was a question that suddenly felt urgent.
That night she was stirred from sleep, opening her eyes to the thick darkness of her bedroom. She didn’t move for a long moment, letting her eyes adjust as she tried to pinpoint what had roused her. Then she saw something move in the chair in the far corner of her room.
She sat up. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” Kit’s voice vibrated from the shadows.
Eliza was suddenly aware of her thin nightdress, her long hair falling around her exposed shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and with every second that ticked by, the sense of dread in her chest grew.
“What do you want, Eve?” he finally asked.
She could have feigned ignorance. Pretended she hadn’t beenprivy to the conversation earlier that day. But she also didn’t know how to lie. Not to him.
“You know what I want, Kit. To be happy. To have the chance at happiness, at least. To experience life and all its pleasures, however small,” she replied. “And I want you there with me for all of it.”
She could make out the shape of him now, the silhouette of his long body leaning back in the chair, his hand at his temple as he stared at her, his gaze so intense her breath caught. “My father purchased a commission for me,” he said. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Her heart tumbled down deep in her chest. “Where?”
“Bombay,” he replied.
There was nothing that could have prepared her for that answer. “But university—”
“I’m the second son, Eve,” he replied, as if forcing a bit of levity in his voice. “William will inherit our father’s name, his fortune. I must make my own way in the world.”
“What of my fortune?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “Your fortune is my father’s until you marry. And you were always intended for—”
“You,” she said. “I love you, Kit. Above all things.”
She knew she had said the words, but they still sounded like they had emerged from a dream, too ethereal to be real.
“You love me?” he asked, so low she barely heard it.
“Yes,” she whispered, before she could stop herself. “So much I feel like I could forget to breathe if you’re not near.”
A moment passed, then Kit rose and stalked slowly to the bed. He came to a stop at the end of it, looking down at where she still sat.
“Then marry me, Eve,” he said softly, almost pleading. “Notbecause my father wants your fortune, or because of my brother’s plans. Marry me because you love me.”
She didn’t have the chance to say yes before his lips were on hers. Then words seemed so superfluous. All she could think about were his arms around her body, their sighs and kisses and moans until morning.
They were so naive to think their plan would work. They hadn’t anticipated the maid overhearing their plans, alerting Mr. Brandon, and sending Kit away before they even had a chance to say goodbye.
She waited. She did. The weeks turned into months, but still, she waited. For what, she wasn’t entirely sure. She knew he was thousands of miles away, but she had hoped for word of his arrival, a letter, something. But nothing arrived. And then, six months after he was gone, half a year of hiding in her room and avoiding every corner of Delaford that reminded her of him, Mr. Brandon knocked on her door for the first time in seventeen years.
He didn’t wait for her to give him permission to enter. He didn’t ask her how she was. He merely stared past her to the wall and said, “You are to marry William tomorrow.”
“But Kit—”
“Christopher is gone.”
