“There will be no wedding.”
Theo didn’t move.
April turned, skirts whispering around her ankles, and walked away.
Her steps didn’t falter—not until she reached the stairs. And then she ran. Not because she feared he would chase her. No—deep down, she knew he would not.
He would respect her choice and let her go.
April burst into the drawing room, her breathing raspy and shallow. Her lungs ached, and she didn’t feel quite steady on her feet. “Miss Evans—we are leaving. At once.”
The maid looked up, startled by her tone. “My Lady? Has something?—”
April strode across the room, snatching up her bonnet and reticule from the settee with shaking fingers. “Please. I do not wish to be questioned. We must go. Now.”
Miss Evans rose, looking confused but obedient. They swept from the house and into the waiting carriage with haste and no further words.
Inside, the silence was absolute.Miss Evans cast furtive glances toward her mistress, but April kept her face to the window, her hands clutched in her lap.
Her mind replayed it again and again: the dim light, the unrelenting sound of Theo’s voice. The man’s bruised face. The fury carved into every line of the Duke’s figure.
What had she walked into?She had gone to accept his proposal, feeling confident that her future would be as she would like, yet in a moment, everything shattered.
She left feeling as though she had glimpsed something terrible—something that now lived inside her, pressing against her ribs.
When the carriage reached the Wildmoore House, she lingered in the carriage, her limbs stiff. Taking several deep breaths, she regained a semblance of calm and climbed down.
Voices from the drawing room reached her as she stepped into the foyer. One deep and familiar one struck her.
“Has August returned?” she asked.
“His Lordship arrived shortly after you departed, My Lady,” the butler said behind her, and she realized she’d voiced the question without intending to.
Of all the days and hours, why now? When there would be no wedding. April swallowed and moved toward the drawing room.
“April, dearest! You’re just in time. August is home, and we’ve had the most thrilling news!” Her mother rushed forward as soon as she walked into the drawing room and took her hands.
“What news?” April whispered, looking up at her brother, who stood by the fireplace mantle.
“Your engagement, of course, to the Duke of Stone. I’ve already written to Lady Allenham and Mrs. Steadman.”
Heavens, she has told the world already!April felt her limbs slacken. “Engagement?”
“Yes! August told me that the two of you are engaged. Oh, April! One of my spring flowers engaged in her very first season! What splendid news!”
“No,” April said. Her voice came out too sharp and too fast. “There is no engagement. You must not say another word of it to anyone.”
The room stilled. Even the fire in the grate seemed to dim. Dorothy’s smile vanished as though slapped from her face. “What nonsense is this?”
“It is the truth.”
“You cannot mean to walk away from such a match. The entire season has watched you. The papers?—”
“Let them watch.”
Her mother’s face paled with fury. “April Vestiere, you will ruin yourself. And worse—you will ruin your sisters. June has only just begun receiving callers. Do you mean to cast scandal on her name before she’s even had a chance to choose?”
June’s voice cut through the din, and she addressed April. “Do not think of me. Think of yourself.”
