Chapter Thirty-Three
Ava drew in a shuddering breath, trying to focus on something –anything, other than what had just happened. It wasn’t just the embarrassment of it, though she could feel that burning through her, it was …everything else. It was how Jem always said one thing to her, but meant another. It was how, in another life, she’d have been planning the wedding with Mrs Foster, and not her own mother.
But it was also the way that Damien’s voice had changed, the way he’dlooked at herhad changed, even if only for a moment.
Behind her, she heard the tinkle of wind chimes, and then thesnicker-clickof her umbrella opening, as Damien came to stand beside her. He was quiet for a moment, the only sound between them the soft thrumming of raindrops upon the umbrella’s canopy.
From the corner of her eye, she saw his expression flicker. ‘I think we should eschew the session for today,’ he said.
And she knew what would come next. He would walk away – just as Jem had. For it was easier that way, wasn’t it?
‘I think,’ said Damien. ‘We should go for a cup of tea instead.’
She blinked the wetness from her eyes. ‘Tea?’
‘Or luncheon.’ He pulled a scrap of linen from his pocket and offered it to her. ‘Are you hungry?’
She didn’t reach for the linen, for that would be admitting she was crying, and so long as she didn’t admitthatshe could pretend it was merely the rain. ‘I think I know what you are trying to do, Damien.’
‘I’m asking you for tea,’ he said, voice lilting with mock-indignation. ‘Or luncheon.’
‘You are trying to avoid our session,’ said Ava. ‘Because you’re afraid—’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m always afraid. Of you most of all.’ He frowned then, and cleared his throat. ‘But this isn’t that,’ he recovered. ‘This is just tea.’
She looked up at him then, trying to read him, trying to catch the lie upon his face, but all she saw was determination, and a thread of compassion that slanted his dark eyebrows downwards.
‘Why should you be afraid of me?’
‘Because you’re a ripple, Ava,’ he said, as though she would know what that meant. As though she would understand – though she did not. When she looked up at him, she saw his eyes weren’t green – but dark and searching – as though he were teetering on the edge of a decision he hadn’t meant to make.
She wiped roughly at her cheeks. ‘I suppose I wouldn’t mind a walk,’ she said, her voice a thin thread between them.
‘A walk it is then,’ said Damien, offering her his elbow.
They walked almost shoulder to shoulder, Damien still holding the umbrella between them as Ava led them towards the river. Today it was a rippling mirror for the hulking ships that passed and the wide, brick buildings that stood upon the water’s edge, their silhouettes stretching and reforming with the constant drizzle of rain.
‘Everyone thinks me heartbroken,’ she said quietly. ‘And perhaps I was, in a way – when Jem broke off the engagement. But I was also … relieved.’
Damien tilted his head to one side, watching the sunlight struggle between the clouds, turning the rain into a thousand, glittering shards of glass. ‘Relieved?’
‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘I think I knew, deep down, that he didn’t love me. Not in the way I’d wanted, anyway. I’d seen my mother and father together for years, and they were besotted with each other. They couldn’t stand to be apart, and Iwantedthat. I wantedthat so badly that I took what Jem could offer me – his friendship – and I twisted it, and twisted it, until I’d convinced myself that it was love. Though I think I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t.’
‘So then why did you say yes?’
‘Because …’ She broke off, biting at her lip. ‘Because it was what everyone expected. What everyone wanted. And because …’ Her voice caught a little in her throat, and he saw her chin had begun to wobble dangerously. ‘Because I thought it’s what I wanted, too.’
She only glanced at him for a moment – but in it he saw the flicker of something like surprise, or betrayal – as though she had only just heard the truth in her words. She stopped then, turning to look out over the choppy water. Damien stood beside her, elbows resting on the wrought-iron railings at the dock’s edge. He kept his gaze on the water, too – for she did not need an audience. Only an ear.
‘Do you want to know what the worst part of it was?’ she asked, staring towards the horizon. ‘The worst part was the thought of having to go back and tell everyone that the engagement was over. Because I’d toldeveryonewe were engaged. The fishmonger. The grocer. Mrs Moss. Mrs Moss’ awful niece. And the thought of having to undo it all felt like …’ She looked away, shaking her head. ‘It felt like afailure, somehow. As though I had failed. In the end I only told a handful of people – and though they never asked it, I knew they all had the same question. One I couldn’t answer. One that I still can’t answer:What is wrong with you?Becausethatwas the only logical question to ask, wasn’t it? What had I done to make it so?’
Damien felt something in his chest squeeze. ‘Do you want to know what I think?’
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she turned her face into the wind, loosening strands of pale hair from their pins.
‘I think that man is a fool,’ said Damien. ‘There is nothing wrong with you, Ava. You’re incredible. What you can do—’ He broke off, his thoughts spinning ahead of him, though at least now she turned to look at him. ‘I think what you can do is amazing.’
Her expression shifted, the pain faltering. ‘Yes, well, doing it in a room is one thing. Doing it as the lead act, with my mother’s name on the marquee, is another thing all together.’
