For how did one survive the experience of making love and know it was once again out of reach?
Yet, even as she considered her words, she wondered: Was it the act, or was it Luc?
Her heart whispered the truth to her, even as she tried to silence it.
She had no idea that inviting ruin would not only compromise her body—but her heart as well.
Liliah sighed, knowing that any answers she sought wouldn’t be given this evening. And she refused to feel sorry for herself. She chose to remember that she was given exactly what she asked for, and in that, it had to be enough.
So that night as she lay down to sleep, Liliah decided that if she had to live with Meyer as a husband in name only, then it wouldn’t be so terrible if Luc was the one who loved her in her dreams.
That could hardly be sinful; rather she looked upon it as a gift. And she drifted off to sleep with Luc’s name on her lips.
That very same name was on her lips the next morning, and throughout the day as she readied for the Winharts’ ball. It became her touchstone, her safe place as the world spun out of her control. She had refused to look at the announcement in theTimes, and she refused to dwell on the affirmation of the betrothal at the ball. Instead she allowed her memories to soothe her. Yet she soon discovered that memories were not enough.
Even when she told herself repeatedly that they had to be.
She focused on the scent of Luc, as Sarah coiffed her hair.
She remembered the sensation of his fingers brushing her skin, as Sarah helped her don her gown.
She remembered the way he spoke her name, as her father demanded she be at the carriage by eight p.m. sharp.
And she focused on the memory of Luc’s smile as she stared at the passing town as they made their way to the Winharts’ residence.
The stone estate boasted thousands of candles illuminating the entrance, all dancing in the soft breeze. Liliah was enchanted. Even given the miserable circumstances that awaited her within, she chose to find joy in the middle of it. As she strode into the ballroom, she noted the stares of several ladies and the whispers that followed—certainly affirming the announcement in theTimes. They would all see a smart match, an ideal situation—they would also be utterly wrong.
Liliah lifted her chin as she walked around the ballroom, searching, yet hesitant to find Meyer or Rebecca. How miserable. Her two best friends were no longer a source of delight and joy, but a reminder of pain and sorrow. The delight of the candlelight faded quickly, leaving Liliah in a thick, dark cloud of her own misery. Her father had quickly abandoned her for the faro table, where he’d speak of politics all evening, and for once, Liliah felt very alone.
A tear pricked her eye and she willed it to stay. She refused to feel sorry for herself, it would do no good. Angrily, she squared her shoulders and determined to meet her fate head-on, not shrink away as if defeated.
Liliah took a deep breath and determined to find her friends, and somehow mend the friendship. It was possible, was it not?
Rebecca walked into the ballroom then, and Liliah started toward her. When Rebecca met her gaze, indecision, hurt, and anger flashed across her face and she turned away.
Liliah paused, then all but charged toward her friend.
As she grew closer, she called out politely, “Rebecca?”
But her friend ignored her.
“Please?” Liliah asked, then relaxed slightly when Rebecca paused and turned. Her eyes were cloudy with frustration and pain.
Liliah took a few steps and nodded toward a more private area of the ballroom. Rebecca nodded and they found relative privacy.
“I will not take Meyer from you. He will remain yours, even if I must bear his name. I’ll not bear his heart, or his children. You must understand that.” Liliah took Rebecca’s hands and squeezed them.
Rebecca closed her eyes. “I thank you for that, but is it wrong for that to not be enough?” She opened her eyes. “When you love someone, as I love Meyer, it is not enough to just own their heart—I wish to own every part of him. To know that it is my face that he will wake up to. That it is my name that changes to his, that it is my body that will bear his children—mine alone. I find I cannot even stomach the idea of sharing even the smallest part of him.” Rebecca glanced down, a tear rolling down her face.
Liliah sighed. “I don’t want to lose you, Rebecca. You are one of my dearest friends, and I fear that this whole problem is not only robbing us of our future, but of our friendship as well.”
“Liliah . . .” Rebecca released her hands. “That is a problem I know no solution to, because I don’t want to lose your friendship either, but nor can I stand by when you marry the man I love. Please don’t ask this of me.” Rebecca gave her head a small shake and walked away into the ballroom, leaving Liliah even more distraught than before.
For truly, what hope had she left?
None.
Meyer would come to resent her—in fact probably already did.
