The carriage door opened, and I sucked in a long breath, adjusting to the corset and the fluttering inside my chest. Oscar got out first and held out his hand to me. I was more than I was a year ago, and my brother was back at my side. There was nothing I couldn’t do.
When I stepped out, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I’m proud of you, Rosie,” he said.
The words chased some of the flutters away, and I sank into them. We’d been through a lot recently, and both of us changed more than we knew what to do with, but at the end of the day, it was us against the world.
“Let’s get this over with,” Oliver murmured. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”
“Change her mind about what?” Roberta asked, emerging from the carriage.
I shook my head.
“Nope.” I smiled sweetly at my eldest brother.
“I told you it’s impossible, Oliver. No point in even trying,” Oscar said.
“My conscience says I must,” Oliver answered.
I gently pushed my shoulder into him, and he sighed. Maybe it was worse than a few years off his life; it might have been closer to a decade.
“Someday we will all laugh about this,” I said.
“Doubtful,” Oliver and Oscar said at the same time.
“Mama, Rosamund is scheming!” Roberta called.
I turned as she slinked off to where our mother was leaving her carriage. Mama met my eyes, and instead of the scolding I deserved, she nodded once, her delicate lips pinched. The urge to hug her was insistent, but if I wavered now, I wouldn’t find the courage later.
The gravel shifted beneath my feet like my own conscience wavering under the weight of a single moment. Every step mattered to the frantic beating of my heart. No one warned you that facing your demons was terrifying. It was meant to be empowering in the stories, but the reality was shaking hands and shaky breath.
The heat of the torches ran over my skin in the December wind like a reminder. I was my own woman, and I made my own choices. I’d faced sea monsters and death over and over. James Allan was nothing compared to that.
The hall of Fairview was just as I remembered it. Stone gargoyles that had once reminded me of wraiths now appeared tame compared to what I now knew lived in the Glass Sea. Theirhaunting eyes that followed me held more life than the dead guarding the sea. I stared down at the plush crimson carpets embroidered with a swooping falcon from the clouds, and in an instant, I saw what Bash had done. His flag that I mocked was the antithesis of the Smith crest. A skeleton beneath blood clouds. A tribute only he and his father would recognize.
The ballroom was still stunning. Gold inlaid with silver tendrils and oval windows dressed with snowfall silver curtains. The chandelier at the center sent a shiver through me with its sparkling diamonds illuminating the light cast below.
“Lord Bailey, Lady Bailey, Mr. Oscar Bailey, Mr. Oliver Bailey, Miss Rosamund Bailey, Miss Bailey, and Mrs. Hardy,” announced the servant with a great bellow.
Some of the dancing figures paused their performances, and small gatherings ceased their talk to stare at my family. They were all white noise compared to where my eyes locked. Blond hair perfectly styled, his trim figure dressed in the finest clothes. He was handsome, with his sleek jawline and heart-shaped lips. Even from twenty feet away, his amber eyes locked onto mine, his mouth dropping open.
James Allan. Funny, he should have chased me across the ocean, but it was I who found him first.
My lips curled up as the ancient man beside him whispered in his ear frantically, but James had gone pale like he was seeing a ghost. I spent hours imagining this moment, and none of it felt as good as the reality of it. To see the horror and shock play on his handsome face. To see the moment he closed his mouth and swallowed hard, knowing that I won. That all his scheming and hatred amounted to absolutely nothing.
It was the first nail in the proverbial coffin, but it felt damn good going in.
My family and I entered as one, and in their own way, I felt their support. Scandal or not, they knew what this meant to me,and they were willing to sacrifice their reputations for it. That mattered more than any words ever could.
Just as I had a year ago, I walked over to James, eager to end this. Lord Smith at his side was still hissing words that fell on deaf ears. Edmonds stood to the other side of them, a small smirk playing on his otherwise stoic eyes. I would keep my end of the bargain if he did.
I felt Oscar and Oliver a step behind me, but refused to turn and verify. This was something I needed to do on my own.
James tracked each of my movements like I would vanish at any moment.
When I stopped a foot away from him, he shook his head.
“You’re dead,” he whispered.
