“When have I ever been wrong? If I would have expected the worst of people from the start, I would have known not to trust Oswald.”
“Somehow, you still managed to trust Mr. Rochester.”
“Oh, and how did that work out?”
Nina releases a frustrated sigh. “What I’m trying to say is, you can’t let one terrible man ruin your happiness forever. You managed to get over what happened with the Viscount of Brekshire enough to give Mr. Rochester a chance. Even if things didn’t work out, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth a try. I saw how happy you looked when you danced with him, and I refuse to believe that, at least for a time, it wasn’t all worth it.”
Her words remind me of the conclusion I came to when I danced with Elliot at the ball. I’d been so ready to lose him, at peace with it even, knowing that having him in my life for a time had made it better.Maybe it doesn’t have to last forever to be real.
Then he ruined everything, turned all my warm thoughts of him bitter. If only that last, beautiful night between us hadn’t happened, then I could let him marry Imogen with nothing more than a bitter ache in my heart instead of this seething, venomous hurt.
As I think it, another echo weaves through my thoughts.If only I could go back to last night…to before I knew you loved me back. Erase all that happened after. At least then I could do this without losing the only thing that matters to me.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair, not wanting to unpack what he meant by that. Why would our night together have made it harder for him to sacrifice his unseelie form? Shouldn’t it have been easier, knowing he had something tangible to sacrifice it for? It shouldn’t have even crossed his mind before he knew I loved him back.
Nina must see the conflict on my face. “Maybe you should let him explain.”
“It’s too late,” I say, my voice cracking. “Besides, you tend to think far too highly of others. There’s nothing he could say to make this right. It’s over, and I don’t want to talk about him anymore.”
“Then what about you? Are you really going to give up on your dreams? I know you want to be more than just someone’s wife. You want freedom and true love—”
“I don’t want love.”
“What you don’t want is Gavin Aston.”
A spark of anger ignites inside me, snapping me out of my apathy. “What else am I to do? Everything you warned me about has come to pass. Father will kick me out if I don’t accept Mr. Aston’s hand, and my job prospects are over in this town.”
Nina rises from her seat only to sink down in front of my chair, taking my hands in hers. She looks up at me with so much love and adoration that it pains me to see. “You are clever and you are beautiful and you have never once stopped fighting.”
I close my eyes, blocking out the sight of her. Her faith in me is too strong, too heavy. “I’m just so tired, Nina.”
“It’s okay to be tired,” she says. “But don’t give up. Don’t let the spark die out. It’s who you are.”
I keep my eyes closed, listening as she rises to her feet and leaves the room. Once I know I’m alone, I open my eyes, and with that comes an avalanche of tears. Just when I thought I could cry no more, sobs erupt from my throat. This time, they feel not like an exercise in grief but a cathartic release. When it’s over, the same feeling I felt at the end of my waltz with Elliot comes over me. The same thing I felt after I read the book about the boy and the dog.
A bittersweet peace that’s as painful as it is warm.
38
Gavin arrives shortly after two in the afternoon. It’s just me and him, and we gather around the tea table. He sits in a chair while I take my place on the couch. Susan, the maid, brings tea and cookies, and an awkward silence falls between us. I feel a strong urge to wrap my false persona around me, but for once I ignore that instinct. After my conversation with Nina, I’ve determined to face this head on as myself. Unguarded. Unarmed.
Just me.
Gavin reaches for the teapot and fills both our cups. Then, with shaking hands, he brings his cup to his lips and takes a sip. I do the same.
“Well, I suppose I should confess why I’m here,” he says, replacing his cup on the saucer. “Although, I’m sure you’ve already guessed. I’ve made my admiration of you very clear, if not directly to you, then to your family and friends. You could hardly be surprised by my visit today.”
“No, I am not surprised,” I say, tone flat.
He seems encouraged by this, lips stretching into a smile as he stands and approaches the couch. Just as he takes a seat next to me, I rise and slowly make my way to the other side of the table. There I face him. Not with scorn or my well-trained haughty grin, but with open curiosity.
“Why do you like me, Mr. Aston?”
His brows weave together, and he stumbles over his words before he finds his answer. “You must know I find you very beautiful,” he says with a blush.
“What else?”
He straightens his cravat and clears his throat. “Well, you’re the smartest, cleverest girl in Vernon.”
