Every ounce of restraint, every measured word she’d spoken for months, shattered beneath the force of it. There was nothing gentle in it, nothing careful. It was wild and desperate, a collision of everything that had been denied them these past months, and Thea met him wholly, matching his fervor with her own, her pulse racing to keep pace with his.
In that breathless, burning moment, their fates joined together. This was a promise. A vow. He understood now. He accepted it.
Acceptedher.
The joy of it surged through her, fierce and uncontainable, as if her very heart might burst from the force of it. The months of doubt, of ache and distance, fell away, and all that remained was two souls at last standing united. Finally.
Chest heaving, Frederick pulled free, his forehead resting against hers as he closed his eyes. “It will take time, Thea. I need to build my business. Earn an income. It may be years—”
And Thea gave that all the attention it deserved (namely, none) and silenced those words with another kiss. Any time stolen from them was not of his doing, and he needn’t apologize for it. Frederick remained entranced for a moment, but when he pulled away once more, there was a teasing glint in his eye—a genuine spark of mirth, which had been absent for so long that Thea felt like weeping at the sight.
“Though I thoroughly enjoy your efforts to distract me, we must discuss this,” he said.
Nodding, she smoothed his cravat. “I know it will take time, and I can wait—as long as I know we will be together. In the meantime, Mina has offered me the use of Rosewood Cottage. Her grandmother left it to her, so Uncle has no say in what she does with it, which means I needn’t worry about rent.”
Thea sighed, her brow furrowing as she tried to fix one of the wrinkles in the linen. “I have some pin money set aside, and my wardrobe is worth a fortune. If I sell it, I should be able to manage for a time, and I will need simpler gowns at any rate—”
It was only then that she noticed the silent air around them. Holding up a hand for him to be quiet, Thea strained her ears, but she didn’t hear the piano.
“I must go. Mother is watching my every movement. She is determined to wear me down,” she said with a sigh. “But we can meet at the coaching inn in the morning. They refuse to see me off, so we can have a proper farewell then.”
Thea couldn’t help the tremor in her voice as she considered how quickly they would be parted after only just reuniting, and Frederick’s arms tightened around her.
“We can write,” he whispered, and she nodded, fighting back the tears that were trying their best to dampen this happy moment.
“Even if I have to take in laundry to pay for it, I will write to you every day,” she said, and Frederick pulled away, but not before he took her hand in his. Turning it over, he kissed the rough and worn patches, and when he met her gaze, his eyes were glimmering.
“Will you marry me, Althea Keats?” he asked, his thumbs caressing her palm. “I haven’t a home for you or a ring to put on your finger, but—”
Thea silenced that with another kiss. Quick but thorough, she erased the words from his lips, and when she stepped away, her hand lingered in his for a moment before she turned away.
“Your heart is all I require, Frederick Voss.”
Chapter 40
Dunsby Hall was nothing like those bright and gleaming modern structures, stuccoed and plastered to feign age and dignity. It carried the weight of its centuries in every beam and cornice, its foundations laid long before a Hanover stepped foot on English soil.
And a Voss had been its master from the very first.
The Great Hall loomed around him, hollow and echoing, its emptiness magnifying every sound. The walls stood bare, the portraits of those who bore his name now spirited away to some London storeroom or collector’s wall. Hooks gaped where tapestries had been, and outlines marred the floors, showing where rugs and furniture had sat for generations.
Frederick’s gaze drifted across the room, lingering on the pale square where his mother’s portrait had hung. The nail still remained. He could almost see the ghost of her smile, the painted silk of her gown, the careful tilt of her head. But the subject, too, was gone, leaving only her memory.
A touch brushed his shoulder, and Frederick reached behind to take Thea’s hand as she leaned into him. Warm and reassuring. The ache of parting throbbed deep in his chest, and the loss of Dunsby Hall settled into his bones like a fracture thatwould not heal, yet as her fingers closed around his, the world righted itself. The sting dulled, and the hollowness faded.
Light slanted through the high windows, catching the motes that hung in the air—tiny, swirling remnants of all that had been dismantled. The house was stripped to its bones, standing with quiet resignation as it surrendered itself to the final will of its master.
He prayed that its new one took better care of it.
Hand in hand, Frederick moved slowly through the corridor, their footsteps marring the silence. He had walked these same floors since boyhood, running ahead of his father’s stride, laughing with his siblings as they escaped their nursemaid and rode the banister. His family and memories were imprinted upon every corner.
Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he rested his hand on the polished wood and gazed one final time at the grand ceiling and its intricate plasterwork. Drawing in a steady breath, Frederick’s hand fell away. Dunsby Hall had new masters now, and the walls that had sheltered the Vosses for centuries would echo with unfamiliar voices, and every remnant of his family would be scrubbed from its memory.
Frederick turned on his heel and led Thea away. Lingering here did no good. Dunsby Hall was no longer theirs, and the front door stood open, as though eager for him to leave, though Frederick stopped long enough to retrieve the portmanteau waiting in the entryway.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the weight of lineage and expectations, of duty and ruin, slipped from his shoulders like a cloak cut loose. For a breath, Frederick faltered. The world felt thinner, as though some essential part of him had been left behind within those dim halls. The air outside was too bright, too open, and Frederick forced himself to breathe,though the air scraped his chest like being dragged along a gravel road.
But Thea’s hand tethered him, holding him fast when it felt as though the wind might blow him away.
