It took a moment for comprehension to settle, and when it did, it knocked me back. “What?”
“I don’t want to marry! I never want to marry.”
“Well not now, but?—”
“Never. Not ever.”
“Davina, I…” Her shouted words rang through my mind, bouncing against the walls there until a brand-new picture formed. My sister, surrounded in a new light. “Is that what all of this has been about?”
She melted, anger seeping from her frame. “Not entirely—I do enjoy my adventures. But, if I were ruined and deemed unmarriageable… Would that truly be so bad, Xand? Is marriage truly all I’m good for?”
One of my earliest memories had been passing by a shop window and spotting a porcelain vase painted with cerulean entwining florals. It was exquisite—and I desperately needed my mother to have it. I remembered presenting it to her, pride filling my small frame. She cooed her gratitude and settled it in a place of honor in the entry. And I remembered my father returning home that night and asking why Mother had purchased such a hideous vase. I couldn’t recall her response, but I did know that the vase remained in the entry for years, new roses filling it every few days—long after Mother rid the house of every other blue decoration.
And I would never forget the moment when little Davina, running everywhere and nowhere in particular, refusing to sit still for a moment, jostled the table leg.
Her words today left my heart shattered in precisely the same way that the vase had.
Marriage—marriage to a person I loved—was a dream so precious and so impossible that I couldn’t allow myself to consider it. Of course Davina would casually knock it over—accidentally so I couldn’t even blame her. And she would ask about it precisely the same way she had when she’d mumbled, “You love the vase more than me.”
And just as I had then, I asked, “What? Of course not! How could you even think that?”
“You’re always so worried about my reputation.”
“I’m worried about your safety! You could have been hurt. You could have been killed! And yes, I do not want you to be shunned by the whole of society. Is that a bad thing?”
“No…”
The carriage shuddered as we arrived outside of Hasket House. Davina leapt at the opportunity to escape the uncomfortable confines and conversation. I caught her wrist as she brushed past.
“Dav, I promise that I will never, ever force you to marry against your wishes. I may suggest it, I may even cajole, but the choice will always be yours. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that it remains yours no matter what. You do not have to work to ensure that no one will want you.”
Her lips pursed on a swallow as her eyes welled up.Thatwas entirely too much sentiment for either of us to manage.
“Besides, you needn’t work at it; no one would want you regardless.” I paired the insult with a teasing smirk which earned me an, “Ugh, Xander!” that had it turning into a real smile.
Davina pulled her wrist free and stepped into the house. I ought to go in with her, see to mother, but I just couldn’t bring myself to in that moment. Instead, I knocked on the ceiling and called out, “Rycliffe Place,” as I moved to the forward-facing seat.
I allowed my head to hinge back and stared at the dark silk covering the roof of the carriage. Davina wouldn’t stop her adventures—nothing could slow her down as a child, and I knew her too well to think anything would change now. Still, the understanding was a relief, even if I still wanted to throttle her.
Of course Davina would throw away something I wanted desperately. The memory of cerulean eyes surrounded by matching fabric, a teasing smirk, and long limbs flashed behind my eyes. What would it be like? To flirt with intent, to flirt with the possibility of something more, something real, with a future?
I shoved those questions to the back of my mind. Wishing for the impossible brought nothing but pain.
Better to focus on possible dreams. Scotland. Scotland was real. Scotland grew more tangible with every day. Scotland could be my future.
Ten
WAYLAND’S, LONDON - JUNE 15, 1816
TOM
I preferredWayland’s to every other club, but certainly to White’s. Though I may have been a touch biased.
In the near fortnight since the masquerade, Michael’s club had been returned to its usual state, where gaming tables ruled the land and there was no dance floor to be found. My brother nodded toward his office before stepping past to knock on Augie’s door.
I slipped inside and shut the door behind me. It was precisely as I’d left it and a wave of warmth rushed over me. For a few moments, I could be the man I’d always wished to be. I could flirt and smile, laugh and tease a handsome gentleman. And the world didn’t end.
Michael barged in with a stack of paperwork.
