“It was the best night of my life,” I finished.
“Then I take back my apology. I understand... That sentiment… There was a time when Michael and I seemed impossible. And I wouldn’t have given back our stolen moments for the world. Even if I had to live off them for the rest of my days.”
And that was it. My regret wasn’t the masquerade. It wasn’t the conversation. I regretted that I would have to live the rest of my days with the memory of nothing more than the brush of my lips against his cheek. Why hadn’t I been bolder?
“And if they’re not enough? What if there aren’t enough… stolen moments to sustain me?”
“The masquerade, it was not your only meeting. Was it?” she asked.
“Only one of note. He didn’t even remember our first meeting.” The petulance in my tone didn’t phase her.
“But you do.”
“We first met at Hugh and Kate’s wedding breakfast. I’d suspected there was something… different, that I wasn’t—that I didn’t…”
“Understand the appeal of the fairer sex?” she supplied.
I shrugged. It was better than I could have done. “But I saw him. And everything that had always been confusing made sense. He made sense.”
“And he did not remember you at all.”
“Precisely.”
“What happened next?”
“It was Mother who introduced us. Given that she had just lost Hugh to ‘a conniving harlot,’ she was angling for a match between Lady Davina and myself.”
“I may have to tell Kate that your mother called her a conniving harlot. She has finally learned to take pleasure in Agatha’s displeasure.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. She even encourages it on occasion.” I laughed, Juliet’s joining mine.
When the echoes of our mirth faded, I continued. “Meeting Rosehill changed my life. And he didn’t even remember my name.”
“So your first meeting was a mess. I assume the masquerade went well?”
“Yes.” I could feel the flush rising up my chest, neck, and cheeks.
“Well, then… What seems to be the problem? Aside from the whole of society, of course.”
“Yes, just that little thing. Also, he’s leaving.”
“He is?” she asked.
“He has property in Scotland. He plans to make it his primary residence.”
“Oh, Tom,” she said softly. “What are you going to do?”
“What can I do?”
“Well, it seems you have two options. You can stay. Or you can follow.”
“Follow and do what? With what?” I asked, stuffing a bite of tart into my mouth.
“Makehim remember you.”
“I’m entirely dependent on Hugh and Michael. I have no money, no house, nothing of my own. I can give Xander nothing.”
“I did not realize you felt that way. You are absolutely wrong, of course. But I hate that you feel that way.”
