“How do you know? Have you spoken to every woman in town?”
“I need not acquaint myself with everyone to know your wit is unparalleled. Our few conversations were more than enough.”
“And how do you know I’m smart?”
“I saw you holding my favorite book,” he says. “The fact that you admire the same eloquent literature that I do—”
“Did you not see when I gave the book back to Mr. Cordell?”
He tilts his head, a ponderous look on his face. “Oh, yes, I suppose you did.”
“Here’s the thing, Mr. Aston. Your entire impression of me has been flawed from the start. I admit, it’s a romantic idea to fancy another over mutual admiration of a book, but even if that had been true in our case, it doesn’t guarantee compatibility, much less love. And the truth is, I have never readInfinite Suffering in the Garden of Happenstance,nor will I ever, for one look told me it’s the most dull and uninteresting thing I’d ever have the horror to behold. You see, the book was misshelved. In truth, I read romance novels. The kind with whirlwind love, passionate affairs, and happily ever afters. That is who I am.”
He rubs the back of his neck, his blush growing deeper as he stares at the tea table. Then, with a short laugh, he returns his gaze to mine. “It’s a funny story, meeting over a misshelved book. I’m quite amused, actually. Even more so that you feared this truth would make me think less of you or your intelligence. On the contrary, I only think more of it now.”
I clench my jaw. “I didn’t tell you this because I feared you’d think less of my intelligence. I said it to illustrate the fact that you don’t know me. Not enough to make the declaration of love and marriage that you came here for.”
He rises to his feet, fervor in his eyes as he rounds the table to stand before me. “You’re wrong,” he says, taking my hands in his. “I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and I love you still. I’m more than willing to ignore the scathing rumors circulating town about you. That’s how much I love you. I love you so much that I will save you from this scandal and make every gossiper regret the day they spoke ill of you.”
“I do not need to be saved from this scandal.” I pull my hands from his and take a step back, a slightly hysteric amusement creeping up my throat and drawing up the corners of my lips. “I don’t need to be saved from it, because it’s likely all true. I worked for Mr. Rochester, lived at his manor, and I spent many unchaperoned moments with him.”
Gavin shakes his head. “I’m not so conservative as some of the others in town are. You are a grown woman in charge of her own mind. At least before you marry. I trust your judgment—”
“I fell in love with him,” I say, cutting him off. “We went so far as to have an affair. A very physical one, just to be clear.”
His eyes widen, throat bobbing as he swallows his defense of me.
“Before my family came here, I was involved in another affair, one with the Viscount of Brekshire. Rumors of that scandal are true as well, aside from the part that paints me as the instigator. In both cases I was in love and willing. In both cases, I don’t regret exploring my passions. Only the repercussions of my lovers’ false hearts.”
Gavin goes a shade paler, a sheen of sweat coating his brow. “I…I would be a hypocrite to deny a woman’s right to…to do as she wishes with her body, as men aren’t expected to be chaste themselves.” He swallows hard, as if keeping bile from rising in his throat, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “But a lady should never speak so freely of such things, especially not to a suitor. Just as a gentleman keeps his…romantic past discreet.”
I take a few steps back, then lower into a chair. Sitting tall, I cross one leg over the other and place my hands firmly on the armrests. “Mr. Aston, if you came to me expecting me to be aladyby society’s definition, then you are even more misinformed about my true character than I first thought. This is who I am. I read romance novels, I speak my mind, and I have no patience for gossip. I will never try to fit in to a town like Vernon, but I will go to great lengths to find just the right place for me someday. I guarantee that place will not be amongst human high society. In addition, I have loved and am still in love with Elliot Rochester. We will never be together, but right now I hate him and love him in equal measure, and I am not ready to heal from that.”
My own honesty takes me by surprise, and with it comes another truth. “I will heal, though. Someday. But even when I do, I doubt you and I will be right for each other. You see, I want love from someone who knows me inside and out. Not someone who sees my past as a string of follies, but as building blocks that have made me who I am now. And the man who loves me will not ask me to hide, ignore, or keep any part of me or my past under lock and key. He will love me just as I am. Now, tell me, Mr. Aston. Does that sound like you?”
He’s grown even paler during my tirade and seems to shrink in on himself with every second that ticks by. I hold his gaze, my expression neutral. This is his chance. His one chance to prove my prior judgments about him were wrong. Nina was right when she said I always expect the worst of people, so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe there’s more to him than there seems now, just like there was with Elliot. Maybe there’s common ground between us.
He takes a step back, and another, averting his eyes. Then, turning silently on his heel, he leaves the parlor, leaving his proposal unsaid.
* * *
Unsurprisingly,Father comes next. He finds me standing at the window, watching the busy streets crawling with people, buzzing with automobiles, and swarming with carriages. The light dusting of snow has already turned brown from today’s traffic. I focus on the falling snowflakes as Father begins to shout. I find peace in their intricate patterns as they drift from the sky to the street. It brings me back to the quiet stillness of the mountains and helps me steel myself against Father’s rage. I neither look at him nor interrupt him as he continues to shout. Then finally, it ends with a question, one I don’t hear. Slowly, I turn to face him, and he repeats it.
“Why do you seek your own ruin?” Father’s chest heaves, his face crimson.
I reply with my own question. “Why do you hate me so much?”
He takes a step back, eyes wide as if I’ve stabbed him. “I don’t hate you, Gemma. Everything I’ve done for you has been out of love. But I can do no more, you’ve seen to that. You are too disobedient. If it seems like I love your sisters more, it is only because they obey. They give me no reason to be vexed by them.”
I shake my head. “Obedience isn’t love, Father. Forcing your daughter into an unwanted marriage isn’t love.”
“It’s been enough for your sisters. Why isn’t it for you?”
I turn to face him. “Because they were willing. They fell in love with their first prospects, and their suitors loved them back.”
Father shakes a forbidding finger at me. “You could have had what they have if only you hadn’t set your sights on an engaged man.”
I close my eyes, keeping my rage from rising to meet his. “I’ve made mistakes, Father, but they are not what you think they are. I’m done hoping you’ll one day understand my perspective. I’m also done trying to be the daughter you want me to be, and I’m done fighting you. In the end, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. The father I loved died when my mother did, and the man that’s left isn’t worth my obedience, my anger, or my defiance.”
