Father had mentioned John Newton on numerous occasions when I was younger. The two of them had been well acquainted long before my birth, as Mr. Newton occasionally visited Kent. Given their shared opinions on abolition, it was no surprise they had gotten on well. I had thought nothing of the acquaintance until Edward mentioned the man, but if memory served, Father had purchased a copy of Mr. Newton’s most recent works.
Had Edward read the man’s poems? The hymns had been published years ago, but that did not mean Edward had the opportunity. Spending the majority of his life aboard one ship or another likely had not afforded him the chance. But even if he had, reading them together would bring a smile to his face. He had admired Mr. Newton, had bonded with him in ways I did not fully understand.
And I wanted to understand. I wanted to know everything about him. His childhood, his life at sea—all of those experiences culminated to form him into the person he is now. A person whose soul I wished to know every inch of.
Off to the library it was, then. If Father had, in fact, purchased a copy, that was where I would find it.
Mother passed me a curious look when I re-entered the dining room and continued on to the west side of the house. I had always spent a great deal of time here, especially when the weather turned or when the months grew cold with the onset of winter. If I could not be out of doors, time curled up next to the fire with an exciting story was the next best thing. Mother attributed Bridget’s adventurous spirit to my reading to her, as she often joined me in the library. I gladly took responsibility for turning my sister into a woman more keen on pretending to be a pirate than pursuing embroidery.
As I approached, voices echoed from within. Russell had been using the library as a sort of study as of late and met with Father’s solicitor there. I did not typically venture into the room when they were discussing business, but as I only needed to grab a book, I would slip quietly inside. The disruption would be minimal. Rus could chide me for it later if he wished.
Gently, I cracked open the door and peered through the small space. Rus stood near the table on the far side, but it was not Father’s solicitor with him.
It was Edward.
Russell stepped closer to him, fury like I’d never seen my brother wear etched on his face. “If you think for one moment I will allow you to marry my sister purely for money, you are sorely mistaken.”
My heart lurched, and a deep chill of dread radiated through me. For money? What could he possibly mean? I opened the door farther, but neither man noticed.
“That’s not—” Edward began.
Rus snatched a piece of paper from Edward’s grip. “Don’t lie to me. The proof is right here. You made an agreement with my father: money, in addition to Annette’s dowry, in exchange for marrying her.”
A quiet gasp escaped me. I blinked, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare, but I couldn’t. Not when it was real.
“The whole thing is despicable. Were it not for this”—Rus waved the paper—“I would never have believed my father capable of such a thing. Andyou? I trusted you as a friend. I thought your interest in Annette was genuine.”
“Itisgenuine. I will not deny that I made that agreement with your father, but you must understand—”
“Oh, I understand well enough. You thought to obtain a quick fortune and a life of leisure, toying with my sister in the process. I will not stand for it.”
“I never intended to toy with anyone. Especially not—”
“Stop!” My voice carried across the room with surprising intensity. Both men started and turned their attention to me. Edward paled when he took me in, his dark eyes going wide, while Russell simply stared, his expression softening.
I stepped fully into the room. “It’s true? You have an agreement with my father?”
Edward inhaled deeply, his face twisting into a guilty grimace. “I did, but—”
“How much?” My voice cracked, and my eyes burned.
Edward swallowed. “Annette, please let me explain.”
“How much! I deserve to know what my value is, at the very least.”
Edward flinched, but still, he did not answer the question. I looked at Russell, and with a heavy sigh, he offered the information. “Twenty thousand pounds, matching your dowry.”
Well, at least I could be flattered by the sum, though it was hardly a balm to the betrayal I felt. Several tears escaped, and I turned away, a poor attempt to hide the hurt. I waited for the anger to come, but it didn’t. Perhaps it was knowing that Rus was wrong about at least one thing. A quick fortune and a life of leisure were not what Edward had in mind for himself. Edward may have lied about his reason for wishing to court me, but he hadn’t lied about fighting for change. He hadn’t lied about Adda. There had been too much vulnerability, too much sorrow and pain when he spoke of her, to believe otherwise.
“Annette,” Edward whispered. “Everything I said yesterday…I meant it. I do care for you. I accepted your father’s offer, but not for selfish reasons. The money would go toward my political ambitions—and bringing Hollinsby to justice.”
“I know,” I said, meeting his gaze. “Your intentions were good; I do understand that. It just doesn’t make it hurt any less.” I shook my head, backing toward the door. “Those ambitions are ones I supported. Ones Istillsupport. I promised to use my inheritance to help you in your fight for abolition. I intend to do so, even now. But I…we cannot be more than acquaintances working toward a similar goal. I trust you to take my offer of financial support and use it for good. I cannot say the same of allowing you to handle my heart. I cannot trust you with it. Not anymore.”
“Wait,” Edward pleaded. He started forward, but Rus placed a hand on his chest, preventing him. The fury in my brother’s expression had faded, but he retained his determination to protect me. I appreciated that more than he knew.
I paused at the door. A chaotic storm of emotions brewed inside me. It fought its way to the surface when I met Edward’s dark eyes, the pleading in them almost overwhelming my thinning control. How was it I could long to run to this man, long to be swept into his embrace, after all I had learned? Despite him being the cause of my turmoil, it was still him, him, him that I wanted to comfort me. And, oh, how my chest twisted and tightened, knowing I could never feel the security of his arms again. Knowing that I could not let myself meld against his body and listen to his steady heartbeat.
I loved him; there was no denying that now. I felt the sting of betrayal too keenly to call it anything else. If my heart were not fully engaged, this would not hurt half as much.
