Thank the heavens that Mama had allowed her this little freedom.
Would she know when it was time? Thea thought she ought to hear the signal, even from this distance, but with Mama watching with those hard eyes, she found herself doubting whether or not this plan would work. Her pulse quickened, and she pressed a hand to her middle, willing it to still.
The quiet stretched, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the trickle of water from the fountain. Then a run of notes drifted from the window, building into Mama’s favorite piece, and Thea glanced up to see the lady abandon her perch. The music floated out through the open windows, warm and lilting, wrapping the house and garden alike in a fragile calm.
Bless Mina!
Thea let out a slow breath, shoulders loosening, and turning on her heel, she slipped around the bulbous hedges that dotted the landscape, making her way deeper into the garden and out of sight of the windows.
A hand caught her arm, pulling her behind the hedge, and a startled gasp escaped her before she could stop it. Then Thea found herself staring into Frederick’s face—tense and drawn but wonderfully close.
“What do you think you are doing?” he hissed.
Thea blinked, the happy patter of her pulse sputtering as she realized Mina had been far too optimistic about Frederick’s state of mind. The barely controlled sentiments thrumming through this man were certainly not the crazed passions of someone ready to make amends and declare his love (or redeclare it, as was the case). No, this was the same infuriating, exasperating lackwit who had been plaguing her all summer long.
“Of all the foolish—” she began, stopping herself before the rest could tumble out. Thea’s pulse still raced, but the sting of his tone burned hotter than the fright. Ridiculous man! Stupid, maddening, noble man.
“You are the foolish one!” Frederick stiffened and glanced about before lowering his voice to add, “Why are you throwing your life away? There is nothing to salvage between us—”
“You love me, Frederick Voss. I know you do,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his eye.
“Not any more.”
The words cracked like a whip through the garden, his eyes blazing with the force of that killing blow, and though they sent a shudder down her spine, the feeling passed quickly enough: Frederick had never been a good liar.
Thea didn’t argue. She didn’t need to. They both knew the truth, and his heart was too strong and good to allow such terrible words to stand uncontested.
With a sharp huff, Frederick released her and stepped back, tossing his hat on the ground so that he could rake his fingers through his hair. “It isn’t about love, Thea. What does it matter how we feel? It cannot feed a family or keep a roof over their head. And for all that people claim it is unshakeable, I have yet to see a love that doesn't wither and die when the difficulties of life outweigh the joys.”
“Do you think me a fool?” she asked, but pausing, Thea added with a scoff, “You have called me a fool many times over the past months, so I suppose you do. Regardless, I am not some silly girl, ignoring all the glaring reasons not to marry someone simply because I believe love can overcome all.”
Shifting to stand between him and the hedge, Thea forced him to look at her. “There are times when you frustrate me so much that I want to scream and rail. Times when you infuriate me beyond all reason. I know your shortcomings and flaws, and though I do not care for them any more than I care for my own, I love you with all my heart. Even during the darkest of days, I have never once questioned that.”
“I shan’t allow—” he began, but Thea knew where that conversational road ended: it was her metaphorical Rome, for every one led to it. And like Nero, she was ready to consign it to the flames and dance upon its ashes.
“You do not get to decide my future, Frederick Voss!”
*
The outburst struck like a crack of thunder, and for a long moment, those words hung in the air, snapping and sizzling. Possessing a passionate nature, the lady was blessed with a strong temper to match, and only then did Frederick truly comprehend just how restrained Thea had been oflate—especially given all the difficult conversations that had punctuated every interaction.
Now, the bridle was loosened, and the strength in her voice left no room for pleading or reason. It was raw, unguarded, and utterly resolute. And Frederick could only stand there and listen as she spoke.
Drawing herself up, Thea took a breath, visibly getting herself under control once more, and when she met his eyes, he saw the patience settle back in place.
But only just.
“I was foolish for dismissing your concerns, and I am sorry for it,” she said in an even yet firm tone. “I do not blame you for protecting me from my ignorance, but you do not have the right to decide if I am willing to make this sacrifice when I truly understand the cost.”
Thea lifted her hand, brushing a touch against his cheek, and though Frederick knew he ought to step away, his heart needed that balm so much that he couldn’t fight both her and it.
But the rough scrape of her palm had him reaching for her hand. Turning it over, Frederick saw the delicate skin now cracked and raw, and when he met her gaze with a furrowed brow, a small smile crossed her lips—both timid and confident at the same time, as though proud of herself and afraid he would scold.
“I wanted to educate myself, so I asked Mrs. Brinn to teach me the skills I would need to be your wife,” she said, looking down at the evidence of those lessons. “For nearly two months, I’ve mastered various household chores, and though I still have much to learn, I truly feel that I can manage it. I know I can.”
“I never doubted that you could. I wanted to spare you from having to,” he whispered, frowning at the marks marring her sweet hand. Frederick felt them as if it were his own flesh, and only by the greatest of efforts did he keep from kissing each one.
Reaching with her other hand, Thea tipped his chin up to meet her eyes. “You cannot spare me from pain, Frederick. One way or another, anguish and heartache will touch my life, and I would rather face it with you than bear it alone.”
