The trip back had been spent locked in her cabin. Torture filled each day as she replayed all that had happened. Of Isaac’s hands on her flesh. The way he’s said her name, rough and reverent all at once. How he’d sent her soaring to heights she’d never known existed.
But mostly, the look in his eyes as the carriage left the drive. How they burned with quiet torment—a raw ache that tore through her chest even now. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.
If only her father had comebefore. Before she went to Isaac’s room. Before he’d washed away all her anger and hurt with two simple words.I lied.Her fists curled in the morning air. If she hadn’t gone to say thank you, she would still be upset.
And this wouldn’t hurt so damn much.
She glanced down at the dark-haired head belowand a fresh wave of indignation swept through her. Her father had the nerve to post a guard under her window. As if there were anywhere she could escape to on this God-forsaken island.
There was no space here for rebellion, no space for hope. She drew in a shuddering breath. If only she could go back in time. But she couldn’t. The rest of her life, she’d be trapped by choices made for her. A hot trail crept down her cheek. She’d been wrong—there were more tears after all.
With an angry swipe of her hand, she stalked back into her room. Two crates lay open, packed with her belongings. Apparently, Mr. Wentworth had decided they would leave straight-away following the wedding. Her throat tightened. She didn’t even know where he lived.
With everything she owned packed away, the room seemed hollow and bare. Her gaze settled on the empty cage in the corner and her heart squeezed. Her father had refused to bring Lola back with him. Said a respectable woman should never be allowed to own a parrot.
A soft knock came from her door and she spun. Colette stood there, arms crossed. “Looking awfully glum for a bride on her wedding day.”
Bride. Josephine glanced at the dress laid across her bed and a stab of resentment shot through her. “How should I look? This is the worst day of my life.”
With a cluck of her tongue and a shake of her head, Colette swooped into the room. “Don’t say that. This is the very best type of marriage to have.”
Josephine stared at her. “How could you ever say such a thing?”
“He’s wealthy, yes?” When she nodded, Colette grinned. “See, you’ll be well provided for and have everything you wish for.”
Not everything.
Copper brows arched. “Won’t you?”
Josephine gave a sad shake of her head and hugged her armsaround herself. “But what about passion?”
“Ah, so you did find passion with your lieutenant?” Colette slanted a sly look at her.
Heat flamed to her cheeks and her friend gave a deep-throated laugh. “Your new husband will spend most of his time at sea. Which means you will have the freedom to do as you wish—no overbearing eyes on you. You’ll find passion again, I promise you.”
Josephine pressed her eyes closed. “That’s not how I picture being married.”
Colette picked up the dress and fluffed it out. “Josephine, the hard truth is, marriage isn’t usually what you might have imagined. You can still find your own kind of freedom in a loveless match, and you should find no shame in it. I guarantee you, a man with his status has a woman in every port. It’s how the world works, and it doesn’t mean your happiness has to suffer because of it.”
As usual Colette was only trying to make her feel better. But Josephine’s insides twisted. There was only one person she wanted passion with. And she would never see him again.
“Come now, let’s get you ready.”
Josephine remained silent, only half listening to Colette as she went on about how to navigate the new life she was being forced into. Time passed in a blur of unshed tears and hollow words. She barely registered getting undressed, didn’t feel the sharp tugs as Colette did her hair. Her mind was far away, lost in the hopelessness of it all.
“The most beautiful girl on the island.” Colette’s smile was wide and genuine when she pinned the last curl in place. “I sure will miss you.”
A pang shot through Josephine’s chest. She would likely never see Colette again. Despite the circumstances, she was glad to have her there.
“Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me. All of it.” Her voice cracked.
Colette pushed a tendril of hair back with a smile. “You’ve been like a daughter to me. Have faith in me when I say I know you will find happiness.”
Josephine couldn’t answer. Not when her entire body ached with despair. So, she turned down the stairs. Outside, the sun already beat down. They walked down the street to the little stone church on the hill. Any other day, she would smile at how picturesque it was, overlooking the azure sea. Today, it may as well be a prison.
Colette squeezed her hand as they walked through the door. “Go on now. Keep your chin up.”
Mr. Wentworth stood next to her father, wearing a fine frock coat. Deep lines etched across his weathered face, his sparse hair combed over in a sad attempt to cover the balding crown of his head. Her stomach turned.
