A shiver passed down Theo’s spine. He was cold and hollow and numb all at once as the full ramifications of everything she had just told him hit him like a blow. Returning to Boritania? Could he bear it, accept the risk? And if he could, what would happen if he were to assume the throne? His mind inevitably wandered to Pamela. To whatever it was that was between them, something much bigger than he had ever known. And he didn’t have an answer for his sister.
“I need time, Stasia,” he said.
Time to ponder everything she had just revealed to him. To consider whether or not he was capable of returning. To contemplate the risks and the rewards of going back to Boritania to defeat his uncle and assume the throne if he survived.
Sweet Deus.
“We haven’t much,” his sister warned. “My betrothal to Maximilian will be announced in a fortnight, and you would need to travel to Boritania soon after. For our sisters’ sakes and for the sake of our kingdom and our people, I pray you will make the right decision.”
“I will send for you when I’ve decided,” he told her grimly. “But know this. If I decide to return,Iwill be the one who kills him.”
“For Boritania,” she said, raising two fingers to her lips in traditional salute before lifting them into the air.
“For Boritania,” he repeated, returning the gesture solemnly.
She rapped on the carriage roof.
“Return to Hunt House, please,” she called in English to the coachman.
The man shouted down his response, and the carriage turned, lumbering back in the direction from which they had come. Theo couldn’t help but to think it prophetic.
CHAPTER14
Pamela swept into Virtue’s room immediately following her interview with Ridgely, a new sense of urgency washing over her as she took in the state of the younger woman—gaping seams at her sleeves, wrinkles where they didn’t belong, and terribly mussed chignon. In a word, her charge looked thoroughly ravished. Compromised indeed. No question—marriage was absolutely necessary.
But if the stubborn expression on Virtue’s lovely face was any indication, Pamela would have to proceed delicately.
“What has happened to your gown?” she asked her gently.
Virtue glanced down at herself, her cheeks stained pink. “My gown was caught. I will have to repair it.”
That explanation wouldn’t do. She had come here to persuade her brother’s ward that she must accept her fate, and that couldn’t happen if they both pretended that she hadn’t just been thoroughly compromised.
“Caught?” she repeated archly. “By whom?”
Lady Virtue wrapped her arms around her waist in a defensive gesture, chin tipping up. “I suppose he has sent you here to me.”
“He has.” Pamela approached her charge, hoping she could make her see reason. “There is no alternative for the both of you now save marriage.”
Virtue’s answer was instant and vehement. “I’ll not marry him.”
Just as Pamela had suspected. It would seem she had quite a challenge awaiting her. But then, it was either carry on with saving Virtue from ruin or spend the rest of the afternoon and evening pining after a man who had made it clear to her that his heart was unavailable. Yes indeed, this was the far safer course.
“You haven’t a choice,” she said calmly, giving the younger woman’s shoulder a consoling pat. “You’ve been compromised.”
“No one knows,” Virtue countered with stubborn insistence.
“Yes, butIknow.” Pamela frowned at her. “There also remains a possibility that the servants are aware as well. All it requires is one person to whisper a hint of scandal. Believe me, my dear, bad news travels with far greater alacrity than good.”
Still, Virtue’s expression remained impassive. “I won’t marry him, my lady.”
Her heart softened for the young, headstrong lady who was now destined to become her brother’s duchess. She recalled all too well being Virtue’s age. She had been a shy debutante once, doing her utmost to please everyone but herself, thinking that doing her duty and marrying well would somehow earn her mother’s love. It hadn’t, although she couldn’t have known it then. Fortunately, she had found love with Bertie, and their marriage had given her a sense of purpose, if not the family of her own she had dreamed of.
Until the day it hadn’t.
“If we are to be sisters, you should call me Pamela,” she told Virtue, giving her another shoulder pat. “And youwillmarry Ridgely, dearest. You must now, after today’s indiscretions.”
“From the moment my father died, I have been told what I must do. I must have a guardian, I must go to London and leave Greycote Abbey and the only home and family I’ve ever known, I must find a husband, and now I must marry Ridgely. I am sick to death of hearing what Imustdo. What about what Iwantto do?”
