She tries to say it lightly, but the hunch of Beth’s shoulders proves her words still carry a bite. She’s trying, she is, but it’s like her chest is cracking in two.
“Probably,” Beth says. “But I can’t—” She pauses, and Gwen watches her knuckles go white from the strain of her fingers together.
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asks, feeling the distress on Beth’s face like a grip on her stomach.
She steps forward, unsure of what she can offer, but wanting to offer something. Beth steps back again and Gwen pauses, watching as she shakes her head.
“Mother’s going to find your father.”
“Oh,” Gwen says, confused. “She found him. Is she feelingmuch better?” Beth shakes her head again and Gwen takes another step. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine,” Beth says quickly, brought out of whatever state she’s in enough to recognize Gwen’s concern.
“Then what’s the matter?” Gwen asks, her tone as light and airy as she can manage.
Beth’s face only crumples further. “Your father’s gathered support for the Matrimonial Causes Act.”
Gwen blinks. “He has.”
“And he’s had to make some agreements, move some stock options to entice votes,” Beth continues.
“I suppose.” Beth stares at her, looking so forlorn Gwen takes another step toward her. Beth goes to step back yet again, but she’s already up against the hedge. “Beth, what’s happened?”
Beth takes a shuddering breath, and it’s only now that they’re a few feet apart that Gwen can see the tears on her cheeks. “We won’t be able to make our dinner,” Beth says softly.
“Oh, all right,” Gwen replies, reaching out to snag one of her hands, worried now for her cuticles. “Is that all?”
“We won’t be able to reschedule,” Beth says, her chin quivering.
“Is Montson taking you to see his country estate or something?” Gwen asks, trying to smile through it.
Beth shakes her head. “No. No, it’s—” She takes a shaky breath, using her free hand to wipe at her cheeks even as her other clutches at Gwen’s fingers.
“Has something happened? Are you and your mother all right?”
Beth slowly meets her eyes. “If I marry Lord Montson, I can’t see you anymore,” she pushes out in a rush.
Gwen stills, her hand a too-tight vise around Beth’s. It’s like wind is rushing by her ears though the day is thoroughly lovely around them. “What?” she asks, inelegant and overloud.
“The deals your father’s made, the stocks he’s had picked up—he apparently bought Lord Ashmond out of a huge investment and he’s livid. His one condition on the marriage is that we break contact with you and your father.”
Gwen blinks at her. She hears the words, but they don’t make sense, sloshing around in her head. “You... to marry Montson, his father is insisting you promise not to see me anymore?”
“And Mother can’t see your father either,” Beth says quickly.
“That’s absurd,” Gwen says firmly. “Montson doesn’t care.”
Beth lets out a startled laugh. “Of course Montson doesn’t care,” she says, her words hard. “But his father does. And we’d be living with them. We won’t—if I don’t say yes, we won’t have anywhere to live,” Beth says, voice turning brittle. “I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice.”
Gwen just stares at her, trying to comprehend it—this ridiculous, petty demand. How can it matter who they see, how can it jeopardize a match simply to spend time together?
Beth’s hand grips at hers and Gwen finds her footing, meeting Beth’s eyes as her own fill. “So that’s it?”
“I wanted to come to dinner,” Beth says desperately. “I wanted to come to dinner, and stay the night, and tell you alone—to have—” She tugs hard on Gwen’s arm.
Gwen stumbles forward, breath hitching. Beth wraps her arms around her, their skirts bumping, awkward and full of angles. She stiffens, thoughts whirring, her body warring between outrage and heartbreak. But Beth holds on tight, shivering into her.
“I wanted one more night,” Beth whispers into her neck.
