But Frederick couldn’t tell her that. To do so would set Thea against her father and plant seeds of bitterness in her heart.
No, he simply had to remain strong in the face of such a lovely temptation. But for one brief, shining moment, Frederick pretended that Thea was right. That they had a future together and would spend their lives at one another’s side, never to be separated.
Then the fantasy crumbled before his eyes.
*
For all that Frederick had gone silent, Thea saw the way his mind churned. Though she didn’t understand his hesitation, she took it as a good sign that he wasn’t dismissing her or resorting to a jest or two as he was wont to do. Thea couldn’t look away from him.
Oh, how she loved him. The way he stood, so proud and steady even in the face of ruin, the strength written in every line of him. The weight he bore would’ve broken another man, yet he carried it all alone, not out of vanity but love.
And the longer he stood there, lost in thought, the more Thea was certain he saw it too: they were meant to face this together. Hope swelled until she could hardly breathe. If he would only lift his eyes—only say her name—she could feel it, know it. Everything would be right again.
“You do not know what you are suggesting,” murmured Frederick.
“You do not think I understand what a change it would be? I am not simple.”
Frederick huffed. “I did not mean that.”
“No, you simply think I cannot comprehend that being a tradesman’s wife is different from being a gentleman’s daughter.”
“You are allowing your feelings to cloud your judgment,” said Frederick, frowning. “It isn’t just that things would be more difficult. It will mean giving up everything you know—”
“For something far better!” said Thea, reaching for his hand, but he pulled out of reach as he babbled reasons that were as ridiculous and unimportant as all the rest. What did she care about society’s opinions? And if her friends turned on her, they would only prove that they weren’t friends at all. And surely, Thea could learn economy. She was no simpleton.
Frederick continued to ramble on, and her mind raced ahead, crafting rebuttals faster than he could form hisarguments. Every protest that fell from his lips—comfort, reputation, security—Thea was ready to strike down. None of that mattered. How could it when the alternative was losing him? Frederick had called her blind, but it was he who refused to see, and she would make him; she simply needed to find the right words to force a bit of logic into his stubborn brain.
Thea’s pulse beat hard in her throat as her temper rose, her cheeks warming with each new protest he gave. She barely noticed when her voice began to sharpen, the quiet pleading tone slipping away in favor of something fiercer, steadier. She would convince him. She had to.
“I am not speaking of little changes, Thea!”
But before he placed the punctuation on his statement, she swept in, “I am not a fool, Frederick. I know it will be difficult, but this isn’t impossible. Others have made do on less—”
“I am not going to allow you to ‘make do.’”
“That is not your decision!”
“Unless you are going to tie me up and drag me to the altar,it is,” said Frederick, a thread of mockery weaving into his tone.
Round and round they went, treading on paths already trod. Repeating her arguments again and again as though this time—yes, this time!—Frederick would see sense and surrender. But his words grew sharper and stronger with each repetition.
Frederick’s voice rose, not in a shout but with that terrible firmness that left no room for compromise, no chink through which she might slip her reasoning. The argument spun faster and faster, its rhythm turning from words to weapons, both of them striking and parrying in equal measure. Thea tried to sound calm and lace her tone with that sweet steadiness that might soften his temper, but her voice ran away with her as time marched on with no ground gained.
Frederick wasn’t listening! She saw it in the set of his jaw and the hard line of his mouth as every argument she mounted was batted aside.
But the last little voice of reason that warned her to maintain control was drowned beneath the chorus of worries that rang in her mind, and Thea felt herself unraveling. Her hands trembled; her breaths came too quick, too shallow. Logic gave way to desperation, and still she pressed on.
To walk away would be to lose him. To remain silent would be to accept his decision. And either meant a future without him.
Thea’s words spilled out faster, her gestures sharper, her voice rising and falling with the frantic rhythm of her thoughts. Frederick’s face grew darker, his stance more rigid, the calm self-control she once admired turning into something impenetrable. The distance between them—barely a step—felt like an impossible gulf. Tears gathered, but she held them at bay, refusing to give way to the darkness swelling inside her.
Snatching his hand in hers, Thea pulled him closer. “Please, Frederick. Please do not do this. We love each other. We can sort this out. I promise.”
“There is nothing to sort out—”
“Please!” Reaching forward, she rested her hand on his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I do not care if I have to beg and plead. To prostrate myself before you or anyone else. I love you, and nothing is as important as our future.”
His gaze flickered, the steel in it softening by degrees, and Thea’s breath caught. There it was! That faint mist rising in his blue-grey eyes. A crack in his resolve. For one suspended heartbeat, the world stilled as though even the birds in the air and the insects in the grass waited to hear his answer.
