But they both knew it wouldn’t lead to something permanent.
“I’m sorry,” she said as he gathered Wednesday into the basket.
He kissed her on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be. You’re making your own fate, just like you advised me to do.”
She nodded, eyes sad. “And I hope you do.”
“I will,” he said, but didn’t mean it.
Not until he was back in his carriage with the reins in his hands, basket at his side.
What if Princess Charming was the one riding off to a life of adventure and romance? His gaze flicked up toward her window. He could watch her disappear on her white steed. Or he could perhaps… join her?
He couldn’t think of a perfect compromise right now, but there had to be something. Every minute of inaction brought him closer to the moment when it would all be too late.
Make your own fate, he told himself as he put his gig in motion.
Find a way to win her before she’s lost forever.
Chapter 11
Thad sat in his usual comfortable chair in its usual spot of his usual tavern and gazed out over a mug of his usual ale at all the familiar faces and lifelong friends.
Walking away from everyone and everything and every place he loved wasn’t compromise. It was settling for less.
The irony was not lost on him.
All his life, he had been terrified of falling for someone who saw his love as second best. He’d been unwilling to force some theoretical wife to give up what she really wanted.
Now he was considering doing so himself?
There had to be another way. He wasn’t against adventure. In fact, he could easily imagine exploring new horizons side-by-side with Priscilla.
Exploring, sometimes. Not all the time. He could also imagine lazy afternoons before a fire, revisiting “their walk” beneath Vauxhall’s fireworks, finally having that dance they’d both wanted to say yes to, but couldn’t have.
“Fresh beer?” asked a serving girl.
Thad tilted his mug to display its full, if foam-less, contents.
She nodded and moved on.
Was that what Thad should do? Move on?
The idea didn’t instill him with any more joy than the idea of never seeing the Wicked Duke again.
Adventure was fine. A lifetime of adventure… Could Priscilla really expect anyone to relinquish every other part of their lives?
The barmaid was back. She took the flat ale from his hand and replaced it with a fresh serving.
“On the house,” she said with a smile.
Thad nodded.
The Wicked Duke’s generosity made him want to drink his ale even less. Only valued, frequent customers received mugs of beer on the house.
He took a sip. It was delicious. He put it down.
Was that what he valued? The occasional glass of free ale because he spent so much time in the same chair in the same corner of the same place?
