“The scandal. You dumping Montson will inflame tensions that are already there. And my father’s votes for the MCA are so precarious—”
“You’re really citing that damn act as a reason not to do this?” Beth exclaims, gaping at Gwen and trying to tug her hands free. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not saying we can’t try,” Gwen says, holding tight and sighing. “I just—you’re about to marry one of the most influential men in the whole of London. Breaking your engagement is no small matter.”
“I know that,” Beth snaps back, unnerved by Gwen’s calm, detached tone. “But if it would make our parents happy, and us happy, what does it matter? Your father can pass the bill. Lord Ashmond wouldn’t be blustering about it if he wasn’t worried.”
“I suppose,” Gwen says slowly.
“So sod it. Get your father to propose and I’ll break it off with Lord Montson and they’ll vote and we can leave London, the four of us together.”
Gwen gently pulls her hands from Beth’s. “You know it’s not that simple. We got lucky before. I’m not sure we’ll get lucky again.”
Beth curls her empty hands into her skirts, the hope deflating in her chest. But she’s not going to give this up without a fight again. She’s not going to let Gwen become a drunk and let herself become a broodmare for Lord Montson.
It wasn’t just luck. There was something there. There had to be. They can change this.
“Does your father not love my mother anymore?”
Gwen meets her eyes, startled. “What?”
“I can still see it, the way he looks at her. Like you’re lookingat me right now,” she adds, appealing to what she knows Gwen is trying to hide. What she herself has been trying to hide for weeks. “If he thought he stood a chance, would he try again?”
Gwen shifts her shoulders, glancing around their little hideaway. “Would your mother say yes?” Beth hesitates for a moment. “Because I won’t put him through this a third time.”
“I can convince her,” Beth says firmly, though it sounds weak even to her own ears.
Can she convince her mother to give up the security of an alliance with the Ashmonds? Can she convince her that the four of them would withstand the resulting scandal? Convince her that Lord Havenfort would never leave them in the situation her father did?
Because Beth doesn’t care if there’s insecurity down the way. This stolen, fraught moment with Gwen is the best she’s felt in weeks. Like the aching loneliness has been punched out of her chest, leaving nothing but joy in its wake. And if having Gwen means being invited to fewer balls, all the better. If it means watching her mother relax, watching her be treated well, watching her be loved? After more than Beth’s lifetime of sadness, isolation, and abuse, Mother deserves some happiness, whatever the cost.
“Can you really?” Gwen presses. “I’m not going to get his hopes up again. I can’t—I can’t get my own hopes up again.”
Beth resolves then that it’s happiness or bust. They’ll make this work. They’ll get their parents to admit their love, to commit to each other, and then she and Gwen can walk into the sunset together. Society will no longer care about them, daughters of two joined empires.
“I’ll convince her,” Beth says again, pushing all her hopeand desire into the words. “All you need to do is convince him there’s hope.”
Gwen considers her for a long, painful pause. Beth pulls herself up to her tallest, her most confident. They can do this. She’s sure.
At least, she’s sure she wants to be sure.
“All right,” Gwen says.
“Really?” Beth asks.
Gwen laughs softly and steps back up to her, wrapping her in her arms. Beth buries her face in Gwen’s shoulder, careful of her gown, and breathes her in. She smells like lilacs and sweat, sweet and tangy.
“If you’re convinced, I’m convinced,” Gwen tells the side of her head. “I’m really not strong enough to lose you again.”
“That makes two of us,” Beth says, pulling back to meet her eyes. “So we’ll try?”
“We’ll try,” Gwen agrees. She glances over her shoulder to confirm they’re still alone and then looks back, her gaze distinctly more predatory. “How long do you think we’ve been here?”
“Ten minutes, maybe?” Beth posits, stepping back toward the hedges and tugging Gwen with her. “We could stand another ten, couldn’t we? We got lost.”
“Terribly lost,” Gwen agrees, following Beth and dipping her head down to skate her lips up Beth’s throat.
Beth sighs when her back hits the hedge. Gwen grunts as she’s momentarily knocked away from her.
