She drew in a sharp breath.
“You hate my politics,” he said softly.“Or at least what you believed were my politics.”
“I do,” she said instantly.
He blinked.Then, very quietly, “But not me?”
Her chin wobbled.She shook her head.“No.”
He nodded once.“That is good to know, but those drawings.They were personal.And filled with hate.”
She let out a sob and covered her face with both hands.“I’m so sorry, Nicholas.”
He stood still, hands by his sides, wanting to hold her and not trusting himself to move.“Don’t apologize for thinking.Don’t apologize for having convictions.You’ve never owed anyone that.”
She shook her head, dropping her hands.“Not for that.For hurting you.Not that it matters, but I drew them before I knew how you’d voted.I need you to know that my feelings for you no longer match the sketches I drew.”
His jaw flexed.He closed his eyes, bracing himself against the pain.A cold weight settled in his gut.His emotions were a swirl of contradictions threatening to overwhelm him, as if he were a ship adrift in a stormy sea.
Bea winced.“I knew you’d feel betrayed, but I…I didn’t understand how deeply I’d wounded you until I saw your face just now.”
“Bea—”
“No,” she said, voice shaking.“Let me speak.Please.”
He fell silent and nodded.
She drew a shuddering breath.“I have been cruel.I know that.You were an easy target.Handsome, self-possessed, favored by every political mentor in London.You said it once, and you were right… You were—” She swallowed.“Everything I resented.”
He didn’t flinch.But he clenched his jaw.
“Then I spent time with you,” she whispered.“And you made me feel… There is no other way to describe it other than you made me feel like what I said mattered.Like my opinions were worth something.”
He inhaled sharply.
“And then I kissed you,” she whispered even softer.
He closed his eyes briefly, pain tightening his mouth.
“And now,” she said, “I cannot bear the thought that you feel trapped or deceived or manipulated by someone you trusted enough to?—”
“Stop,” he said roughly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“No,” she insisted, voice breaking.“I release you.”
His eyes snapped open.“What?”
“You’re free,” she said, tears finally spilling.“You don’t have to marry me.You don’t have to acknowledge anything that happened between us.No one will ever know.Mother suspects something, but Father didn’t even realize I’d been gone.”She made a strangled, scoffing noise.
Nicholas stared at her, stunned into silence.
She pressed both palms against her chest as if holding herself together.“Please.Please, Nicholas.Don’t marry me out of pity.Or obligation.Or because we were foolish.If I’m with child, there are things I can do?—”
“Bea—”
“But if—” Her voice cracked.“If you have ever cared for me at all, please don’t tell anyone I’m B.Adroit.My father would never forgive me.”
The words struck Nicholas like physical blows.
