And then he saw her.
At first, it was only a flicker of color—those familiar blue ribbons affixed to her bonnet—but then the crowd shifted, and there she was, standing a little apart from the rest and half-shadowed beneath the branches of the yew, the sight bringing him back to the last time they had spoken beneath the shade of another tree.
Thea watched him without shame, meeting his gaze without blush or wilting. No feigning a distraction to hide her perusal or glance away. She simply stood there, holding him in her gaze and seeing through the polite mask he’d donned the moment his father’s lies were discovered.
The noise dulled to nothing, the ache in his chest eased, and the world righted itself. Frederick saw not the slightly damp churchyard nor the sea of watching eyes, but the quiet brilliance of her smile, the tilt of her head when she teased him, the way her laughter drew the world in. Frederick saw all those small, unremarkable moments that had littered their days, reminding him of all the many reasons he loved her.
And heaven help him, he still did. There was no hope or future in it, but neither was there any help for it. His heart cared not one jot for reason. It refused to accept the world as it was.
Gathering his strength about him, Frederick fixed his gaze upon the gate and the curve of the lane beyond it. Focus on the road ahead.
*
The moment lasted no longer than a heartbeat—so quick that Thea had to question herself whether it had happened—yet the world paused, the sounds and movement around her thinning to nothing. The air itself felt suspended, the mist in the air hanging motionless, and the distance that had grown between them vanished.
And then the moment shattered. The noise returned in a rush, the crowd pressing close once more; Frederick turned his face away as though nothing had happened, and the space he left behind felt impossibly wide.
Had she imagined it? Thea drew a slow breath and forced her attention back to the gathering.
The mist had settled into that stubborn, clinging sort that was too light to require shelter yet too thick to ignore. Water beaded on their bonnets and collars, but a bit of damp was nothing compared to the sanctity of tradition; rain or shine, scandal or no, the parish would have its ceremony, and heaven help anyone who stood in the way of it.
Thea couldn’t help the faint curve of her lips as she considered the ridiculousness of it all, but it vanished when she spied Phoebe. The lady’s expression was perfectly composed, but there was a strain beneath the polish that couldn’t fool Thea’s keen eye; she saw the bleakness in Phoebe’s gaze and the life leech from her with each polite murmur of good fortune.
A knot formed low in Thea’s chest, tight and unyielding. The world may deem the match a triumph, but she hoped and prayed Phoebe wouldn’t regret it.
“I must say,” chimed a voice, cutting through Thea’s thoughts, “I never would have anticipated that Miss Voss’s banns would be posted first.”
Glancing to her right, Thea found Mrs. Hammerstone watching the couple with bright-eyed amusement.
“Everyone has been anticipating a Voss wedding for months, of course, but I daresay no one imagined it would be hers.” The lady gave a low laugh, soft but knowing. “I always thought Miss Voss was far too particular to settle, yet here she is, marrying a man after a courtship so brief that no one was aware of it.”
Mrs. Hammerstone’s tone carried the lightness of gossip disguised as surprise, and she lowered her voice as a considering frown pulled at her lips. “But I suppose it is sensible, what with the trouble they face. The poor dear hardly has another option, does she? Thank heavens you discovered the truth before you were trapped in that quagmire.”
For a heartbeat, Thea could scarcely breathe. The words hung in the damp air, as thick and heavy as the mist. Shecouldn’t tell if Mrs. Hammerstone meant to wound or was simply indulging that dreadful habit of turning another’s private sorrow into afternoon entertainment.
Regardless of her intention (mal or otherwise), Thea’s heart snapped taut. Heat rose beneath her collar, sharp and sudden, flooding through her until her hands trembled; anger clawed its way upward, bright and ungovernable, burning with the fury of hearing Phoebe and Frederick’s anguish reduced to mere “trouble.” Words pressed against her lips, begging to be let loose, and Thea’s jaw tightened as she fought for restraint.
Frederick’s actions deserved commendation, not condemnation, and Phoebe’s situation ought to inspire sympathy, not speculation. So many of the gentry were only a bad harvest or poor investment away from becoming the Vosses, yet they treated this like a bit of sport, put on for their amusement.
Drawing in a measured breath, the damp air helped to cool her tongue. There was nothing to be gained in responding—not for Frederick, not for Phoebe, and certainly not for herself. It would only serve as fodder to feed the gossips, and they had glutted enough. Still, it took every ounce of composure she possessed to keep her expression smooth, her chin lifted, her lips pressed into a polite, unmoving line as Mrs. Hammerstone prattled on beside her.
Thea turned her attention to the crowd, and when her gaze fell upon Mina, relief loosened some of the tightness in her chest. Though it was short-lived when she spied Mr. Winwood at the lady’s elbow. For all that his expression exuded sunshine and joy as he babbled at her, Mina’s eyes met Thea’s with a silent plea for rescue.
Thank the heavens.
“I fear my cousin requires me,” said Thea, giving the lady at her side a nod before sweeping into the thick of things.
Mr. Winwood was in full performance, his voice carrying above the cheerful din. He stood far too close to Mina, his head tipped toward her in what he no doubt believed was a charming manner, one gloved hand gesturing animatedly as he recounted some story that required no contribution from his listener. Mina’s polite smile was fixed and thin, her gaze darting between him and the surrounding crowd like a cornered creature seeking escape.
Thea slipped in beside her cousin, and with a warmth that did not reach her eyes, she said brightly, “Mr. Winwood, I see you are availing yourself of my cousin’s company. Again.”
Chapter 29
Mr. Winwood turned to Thea, his grin brightening. “Ah, Miss Keats! Yes, I count myself quite lucky. When I arrived in Haverford, I hadn’t thought to find such a gem, and I am blessed whenever I can steal a moment or two with her.”
“How fortunate for you to have found a village with so many appealing people,” Thea replied pleasantly, looping her arm through Mina’s. “But you must excuse us. Miss Ashbrook and I have yet to offer our congratulations.”
Before he could reply or invite himself along, Thea steered Mina away, leaving Mr. Winwood bent in a bow as his smile faltered. They slipped back into the throng, weaving between clusters of well-wishers, the hum of voices rising and falling around them like the tide.
