Frederick scowled. “I do not avoid my troubles.”
“Which is why you’ve never spoken about your father’s passing. At least not in any meaningful manner,” said Thea, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger in his direction. “And any time I broach the subject, you make a jest and laugh my concern away.”
“And because I do not wish to dwell on unhappy subjects, you think I am avoiding them altogether?” he challenged, a thread of steel weaving its way into his tone.
“Yes—because they continue to pain you, and you refuse to acknowledge it,” said Thea, lifting her chin. “I do not know if all this is related to your father or not, but I am done waiting patiently for you to speak, Frederick Voss. I demand answers, and I will not leave until you explain yourself. In detail.”
Chapter 21
For a long moment, Frederick could only stare at her—the rise and fall of her breath, the brightness in her eyes, the flush that deepened her cheeks. Thea was magnificent when roused, all warmth and fire and stubborn grace. Every line of her stood against him, fierce and unyielding, and heaven help him, he adored her for it. He wanted to reach for her, to silence her with a kiss, to promise that all would be well.
That ache buried itself deep in his chest like an arrow piercing a target. The pain was sharp and tangible, made all the more acute as it only reinforced the truth: Thea was everything he needed. The perfect partner in every sense. So much more than a mere wife or sweetheart. She was his motivation. His conscience. The person who loved him enough to harangue him over the hurdles he placed in his own path.
And Thea deserved better than him. That truth stood between them like a chasm: he could not have her and still be the man she believed him to be.
So, he let his gaze linger, tracing the curve of her mouth, still set in that determined line, and the faint quiver at the corner that betrayed how fiercely she fought to hold her ground. The strands of deep gold woven into her hair that caught the sunlight. The small freckle near her temple. Frederick wanted toremember it all. This single moment suspended in the sunlight and shadow of a warm summer’s day would have to be enough.
“That! What was that?” said Thea, her finger rising to point at his expression. “Tell me, Frederick! We are not our parents, who speak to each other only when necessity dictates it. We do not keep each other in the dark!”
“I cannot marry you,” he said, stepping backward. “That is all.”
But Thea closed the distance. “That isnotall! Tell me what is the matter. If this is impacting our future, I have the right to know. And do not try to lie to me. Do not pretend that your parading Sally Jenkins about was anything but a shallow attempt to convince me you do not care for me.”
Frederick scoured his mind for words. They usually came so easily, and he knew the sentence that could end this once and for all. Yet the lie refused to emerge from his lips: in short order, the only thing Frederick Voss would have was his honor, and to speak that falsehood would rob him of that as readily as Father had robbed the parish. He couldn’t say he didn’t love her.
Before he knew what he was about, a jest rose to his lips. That familiar urge surged to the forefront, bringing with it an easy smile and a light remark to soothe her ruffled feathers. Then her exasperation would give way to reluctant laughter as the tension dissolved into something bearable, as it always did.
But her gaze narrowed as though sensing his intent, and it snuffed the flippancy as thoroughly as a candle caught in a gust of wind.
Hurt, deep and raw, lingered in her eyes, and the ache in his chest redoubled as the weight of her pain added to his. And Frederick knew it was all his doing. Not because of this twist of fate that had eradicated their future, but because of his silence.
“Can you please leave it be?” he began, stepping around her, but Thea moved with him. Reaching out, she caught him by the arms, and he allowed her to pull him to a stop.
“Tell me the truth, Frederick,” she whispered. “I will not leave until you do.”
They stood so close that the scent of roses filled his nose, and his unhelpful thoughts drew forth the memory of more pleasant times. The feel of her in his arms. Her lips against his. There weren’t words to describe how Thea’s embrace made him feel. It was softness and strength blended into an incomprehensible mix, making him as wobbly as a newborn foal yet as powerful as the great lions of the Serengeti.
Lifting her hand to rest against his cheek, Thea turned his face to hers and whispered, “Frederick.”
Despite having done so many times over the past months, hearing Thea speak his given name still sent a thrill through him, and Frederick felt the truth in that moment: there was no need for secrecy any longer. The die had been cast. The path forward had been chosen. To tell her would not alter either, and silence would not protect her from the pain.
“My family is bankrupt,” he whispered. “We have lost everything.”
*
For a heartbeat, the words didn’t make sense. They hung there between them, weightless and impossible, as though Thea had misheard him. Surely, she must have. Frederick stood before her, steady and composed, his voice calm enough that she might have believed he was remarking upon the weather, yet his gaze spoke of devastation.
The distant music, the rustling leaves, the echoing laughter from the festival muffled as Frederick’s words rang in her mind. Bankrupt.
Thea searched his face, waiting for the jest or some spark of mischief to undo it all. But there was none. He wasn’t teasing her, nor exaggerating as men sometimes did when matters of money arose. He meant it. Every word.
Her mouth parted, but no sound came. He was Frederick. Capable, clever, endlessly resourceful. The man could untangle any knot, soothe any trouble with his easy smile. With a few words, he brought light to the thickest darkness and set the world to rights once more. How could the Vosses be ruined? It defied all reason.
And yet, as she stared at him, Thea saw the truth in those eyes, and the ground beneath her gave way. Was that it? Was money the source of all the fears and anguish of the past weeks? All the heartache and confusion?
A breath shuddered from her, half gasp, half laugh. Thea pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, fighting the foolish smile that threatened to break through—despite being entirely inappropriate. Air swept through her like a blustery spring windstorm, lifting her out of the winter doldrums, and Thea fought to keep the relief from overwhelming her.
Which made her heart twinge with guilt: this was not something to celebrate.
