One
“You are lonely.”
“I am not.” Kitty replied, but she continued staring directly ahead, at the lantern-lit waters, not having the courage to look back at Jane’s watchful eyes.
It was a lie. A practiced one. One she’d told herself so often it had nearly become truth.
The gondola swayed gently beneath them, gliding along the Grand Canal. Venice was carnival-crazy around them, masked revelers laughing and spilling their exhilaration into the water. The scent of roses and candle wax and the salt of the lagoon hung heavily in the air.
None of it, however, seemed to stir Jane. Her gaze remained locked on Kitty, who refused to meet her eyes, afraid of how much of the truth Jane might uncover.
“You have no real friends,” Jane maintained. “Not of your own age, at any rate. No young women to whisper to, no suitors to flirt with?—”
“I have you,” Kitty put in, adjusting the golden mask that rested on her nose. “And Father. That is enough company.”
The mention of her father made her heart both smile and ache. Smile, because he was the best ally she could ever ask for. Ache, because the thought of leaving him behind to continue living her own life sent a wave of longing, guilt, and emptiness crashing over her.
“I was your governess once, Kitty—now I dare to call myself your friend. Yet I am older than you, and though my affection is steadfast, I cannot rival the companionship of high society the daughter of a viscount deserves. And as for replacing the felicity of married life… that, my dear, is quite beyond my power.” Jane sighed, tightening the silk shawl on her shoulders. “Your father and I are simply not enough.”
Most people assumed Jane was her real mother—and in some ways, perhaps she was the closest thing Kitty had as one. She had also been a wonderful companion to her father, the kind of steady presence he so often needed.
“You are five-and-twenty, Kitty. While you spent your best years tending to your father’s feelings, the world moved on without you.”
Kitty flinched, although she masked it behind a careless laugh. “You make it sound as if I have been hiding in a cave.”
She stopped laughing, but a smile lingered. “I have been all around, Jane. I’ve seen more than most. I have traveled through Germany, France, Greece, Austria, Spain… indeed, nearly every corner of the continent and beyond. No, I do not possess a husband—nor, given my circumstances, am I ever likely to. Yet I have beheld wonders most of England’s ton could scarcely conjure in their wildest fantasies.”
She had seen so much in these six years—palaces, pyramids, painted ceilings, crowded marketplaces. She had seen more than most, yes. But at what cost? The loneliness, though she despised acknowledging it, would steal upon her like an uninvited guest.
“No, not a cave,” Jane replied gently, “but you have been an exile in a different way. Constantly moving, never remaining in one location.”
An exile.
The word hit harder than Kitty expected. Yes, she had been everywhere—but belonged nowhere. Kitty turned to her with an amused smile. “If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that you were in a frantic hurry to get rid of me.”
Jane let out a sigh. “You must think of your future. Your father will not always be with you.”
Kitty swallowed. “If I marry and leave him, he will be alone. I do not want that.”
“And if you do not get married?” Jane asked softly, her hand reaching for Kitty’s. “What then?”
Kitty had no answer. She had not allowed herself to indulge in such fantasies for years. And yet, at five-and-twenty…
“It would be difficult now,” she said. “I have no acquaintances. No friends. No prospects.” She shrugged, tucking a loose chestnut strand behind her ear. Her gaze strayed out toward the vacant, sunbaked afternoon sky, shying from Jane’s sympathetic gaze. “And I am not the young debutante society wishes to see.” The last words spilled out of her in a whisper, lost almost in the lapping water.
It was the first time she had admitted it aloud—the fear that she might have missed her chance entirely. How could she confess that she actually craved for marriage and having her own family? And not just any marriage—but one like her parents had shared. The kind of love that left her father unable to remain in the home—or even the country—where her mother had lived and breathed.
But how could she ever have this kind of bond if they never stayed in a place long enough to be courted… To be chosen…
Jane cupped her cheek, the softness a rare one piercing the hardness of her sharp features, tilting Kitty’s face towards herown. “You need to begin living for yourself, Kitty. Before you wake up one morning and find you’ve let it all slip past you.”
A tightening burst into bloom within Kitty’s chest. Too much. Too much truth, too much fret, too much future she’d struggled to block from her thoughts for years.
She yanked her face about, eyes scrambling over the congratulators for escape.
And then—salvation.
A familiar woman emerged from the mist, shrouded in dark green silk, dark curls falling across a smooth shoulder. The turn of her head, the slouch of her stance, the playful strike of her fan—Signora Marina.
