“We wouldn’t be on the streets. I’m sure we could stay with the Havenforts.”
“And seal your fate away to be a burden of charity on your friend until you die? We would never survive the scandal,” Mother says firmly.
“I don’t care,” Beth says.
“Lord Ashmond will ensure there isn’t another offer for you if you refuse his son. Not this season, not next, possibly not ever,” Mother continues, like Beth hasn’t even spoken.
“I don’t care,” Beth yells, her words bouncing around the room. “I can’t—we can’t just give them up because Lord Ashmond is angry about some stupid act!”
Mother opens her mouth and then shuts it, jaw clenched. She raises a hand to rub at the back of her neck. She must be getting a headache. Beth feels one coming on herself. But they will stand here until Mother is disabused of this ridiculous notion that they have to give up their only happiness—that Beth has to give upGwenfor some stupid fight Lord Ashmond has with—
“Lord Montson is a nice man,” Mother says, so much more than exhaustion in her voice now.
“What?” Beth asks, ripped from her own sinking thoughts.
“He’s a nice man. He dotes on you. He’ll be kind to you, give you everything you could want in life.”
Beth hesitates. Of course Lord Montson is nice. But he’s simply that, nice, nothing more, nothing less.
“You’ll have a safe, happy marriage. What more is it you want, Beth? Explain it to me.”
Just because her mother has given up doesn’t mean Beth has to.
“I want to be loved,” Beth says without hesitation. “I want to feel more than bland fondness for the man who’ll be in my bed and own me.”
Mother steps toward her. “You could grow to love him.”
“Like you grew to love Father?” Beth spits back, watching as Mother stops cold, the burgeoning look of understanding sliding from her face.
“The man we have found for you is gentle and kind. If you cannot grow to love him, you will be secure knowing he will never hurt you. It is so much more than most girls get to ask, and he’s throwing it all at your feet.”
“So it doesn’t matter if I never love him,” Beth says, fists curling into her skirts as she stares at her mother.
She sees it so clearly now. Love has never been part of the equation in her mother’s mind. A happy accident, possible, but never the goal, not ever, not once. All those platitudes, all those apologies, and she never expected Beth to have it. Because she’s never expected it for herself.
“It is the most we can get and you should—we should both be grateful,” Mother says, stepping forward to hold her by the shoulders, ducking her head to catch Beth’s eyes. “You’ll be safe.”
Regret lives in her mother’s gaze and she steps forward, sliding her hands around to pull Beth against her. Beth holds stiff in her arms, fighting against her comfort.
The one true hope for her mother’s happiness will have to be shoved aside just as Beth’s will. Theirs will be a strangely mutual grief and loss, as they depart for a life beneath another thumb. It should make it hurt less, the solidarity. But it just makes her angrier.
“You could grow to love Lord Montson,” Mother whispers, stroking at her back like she used to do when Beth was small. “Affection can blossom over time. You haven’t felt love yet, you might be surprised.”
“I know what love is,” Beth says, feeling the words like a slap against her face. She pulls back so she can step out of her mother’s arms. “Like mother, like daughter.”
“Beth,” Mother says softly.
“I need to lie down. You’ll have to tell me what you told Lord Havenfort last time. I can say the same to Gwen.”
The heartbreak on her mother’s face should give her some kind of victory, but all it serves to do is make her own chest ache as she skirts around Mother and marches up the stairs. Her body is heavy and her head hurts. When she finally makes it to her room, she hasn’t even the energy to slam the door.
Instead, she lets it snick shut behind her and stumbles over to her bed. She slides to the floor to brace her back against the footboard, poked and prodded by her hoop and buttons. Her skirt is a mound of cotton and starching around her. She stares at the empty wall and then leans her head back to look blankly up at the ceiling.
She had convinced herself she could live with all of it if itmeant she could have Gwen.Companions—such a meager word. But it was a word. It was a relationship. It was something.
It was her one chance at love. And now it’s gone in one brutal strike.
In this room that isn’t hers, this house that isn’t hers, she sits with a life ahead that won’t be hers either, devoid of all happiness and desire. No love, no hope, no Gwen.
