Because admitting she cared meant giving the universe the power to hurt her. Elizabeth never gave anyone that power, if she could help it. She hurt enough on her own. The rest of her body might fall apart, but her heart was the one thing she could protect.
Even if right now, it felt more like it was breaking.
“Bah,” said Tommy, keeping her obnoxiously blank face pointedstraight at Elizabeth. “Our sister has sworn for years never to settle for less than a warrior or warrioress. ‘Must love swords’ is requirement number one. Requirement number two is a personality characterized as ‘a remorseless killing machine with a love of unnecessary bloodshed.’ Then something about hulking muscles—”
“Stephen has surprisingly defined muscles,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“Does he? Well, that’s hardly enough to tempt Beth the Berserker. What else can a scholar so insipid have to offer?”
“He’s methodical,” Elizabeth said.
Tommy shuddered. “You hate anything methodical.”
“He’s a thinker.”
“Your least favorite activity,” Tommy said with authority. “You always say there’s no sense wasting time thinking, when you could be impaling someone with your sword.”
Stabbing someone like Tommy.
“He’s careful and deliberate,” Elizabeth said.
“Two more words that don’t describe you.”
Elizabeth thought about the joy Stephen took in his machines. “He loves anarchy.”
“That one’s a good match,” Tommy allowed. “The rest of his so-called accomplishments—”
“—seem like they balance you,” Philippa said softly.
Elizabeth didn’t respond.
“Sounds like a fairy tale to me.” Jacob stretched out his feet and crossed them at the ankle. “Stephen settles you down when appropriate, and unleashes you as necessary.”
“He’s Pandora, and Elizabeth is what’s in the box,” agreed Philippa.
“Stephen would never keep me in a box,” Elizabeth said. “He likes me unrestrained.”
It was true, she realized. Stephen had never once tried to change her. If anything, he had gone out of his way to enable her to be themost Elizabeth-est Elizabeth possible. He’d offered her the space to be her true self, whatever that looked like.
Others saw weakness, and pitied her. Or made teeth-grinding comments about how she inspired them to feel better about their own perfect lives.
Elizabeth’s lifewasperfect. She was happy to be a cane-wielding berserker. Stephen never doubted her. She was the one who had doubtedhim. But she’d been wrong. He did not see her as something that needed to be fixed. He saw her as someone who should be allowed to run wild.
“His fine qualities don’t matter,” she forced herself to say. “The case is finished.”
“Mm-hm,” murmured Jacob beside her. “The case certainly is.”
Meaning, if she admitted that the most romantic interlude of her life was over, then… She had no one to blame but herself.
“Well,” said Tommy. “I’m sure you told Stephen very clearly how you feel about muscular, methodical, anarchic tinkers like him.”
Elizabeth swung her gaze back outside the window and blinked rapidly to clear her eyes.
She didn’t share her feelings with anyone. She claimed not tohaveany, save for uncontrollable bloodlust and a soft spot for her favorite hedgehog. Of course, that was before she’d walked away from the handsomest, kindest, cleverest, sweetest, and quirkiest person she had ever known.
What was she supposed to have done, rip off his cravat and say,I love you? Re-creating Buckingham House out of feathers and grains of sand would be easier. She’d rather fight Napoleon’s actual army with a wooden sword at ten percent capacity than make herself vulnerable on purpose. The best shield of all was the Wynchester castle back home.
Wasn’t it?
