“He’s– Oh,” she said. Something dawned on her. “I see. Say no more.”
“What? Wait. I haven’t said anything yet,” I replied.
She found my heels in the room and carried them over, handing them to me. “You needn’t. I understand perfectly.”
“I feel as though youdon’tunderstand,” I said.
“Of course I do. Ser Willoughby is handsome, and young, and noble, not only in nature but in birth. He is better than me and he expects better for his bride. Yes. That sum it proper?”
I frowned. “No. No it does not.”
“Then what did I miss?” she asked. “Unless of course you lied about the pretty girl. So now I am of low qualityandless pretty than the girl he’s–”
“There is no girl!” I shouted.
She danced her brows. “If you insist.” She took too long of a pause. She said, “I once knew a man who thought he was better than me. I don’t need another, thanks.”
“Wait, what?” I asked.
“Hmm?” She moved to the vanity.
“You said you once knew a man, then you said you needn’t another,” I said. “You… Wait. You always say things like that. …Are you… Are you the woman?”
“Am I a woman?” she asked. She gestured to her body.
“No,thewoman. The woman you—Have you been speaking of yourself this whole time?”
Josie absolutely scowled.
“Miss Jocelyn,” I said. I leaned in. “I… Please forgive my blunder, but for clarity, I only meant that Ser Willoughbydoeslove you but he holds fear that hisnoble fatherwill drive you away because of their place within society. I did not mean to…” I revisited all her quiet comments and confessions she’d given over the summer. “You said that you once knew a man who put his fists through walls, and kicked his wife’s dog. Are you… Were you married once?”
She was about to cry.
“Are you married now?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No! No, I swear it, miss.”
“Does Ser Willoughby know?”
“No!” She shook her head. “No, and he can’t ever,” she said.
“Don’t you think he should?” I asked.
She growled, annoyed. “No.”
“Daniel is not so shallow,” I told her. “But he deserves to know.”
“He will reject me,” she said. “He will see that I am not his equal, in more than just his status. It will not matter if he thinks he loves me now, he will know that I am not worth anything and all pleasant sensations will be destroyed in a single confession.”
“That isn’t true,” I told her. “He… Are you divorced?”
“Ser Willoughby is right. His father will never accept me,” she said.
“I don’t think he cares if his father accepts you or not. He was… He was worried the Viscount would pay you off,” I said.
“What?”she asked. “He thinksI’mshallow?”
“No!”
