“What if we weren’t?” Peter’s voice, soft and inviting, stopped me in my tracks, and I turned to face him. “If you were here alone, would we still be outside, dancing under the stars together?”
He stared intently at me, as though my answer meant everything to him. His question filled the corners of my mind. Why did he persist? It was cruel, really, to imagine anything other than the bleak future ahead of me. But he asked the very question I’d been aching to answer for days. What if Peter was only Peter, and I was only Amelia? What if I was not nearly destitute nor controlled by circumstance?
When Peter walked in a room, would my heart still chase after him? Would I let it?
I did not know how to respond. This was no longer a question I could tease my way out of answering.
“Amelia?” he asked softly, waiting.
I turned away from him. “We should not be talking like this, Peter.”
“How else should we be talking? Would you like me to go first? I have plenty to say if you’d let me.”
“No.” I spun around, but I was not prepared for the look in his eyes. It was hopeful and sweet, captivatingly handsome in a new way. A light only Peter could shine. A hope I did not want to dull. But I had to. “Please. This trip has always been for Clara. I must give her heart this chance. If Sir Ronald offers for Georgiana, Clara will be devastated, and any connection to your family will only cause pain. I am sure Georgiana will feel the same. We must maintain our distance. It is better this way. We are better as friends.”
“I disagree entirely.” He frowned, and my heart crumbled, hopeless and brooding.
But I had to speak the words. I had to cut the last tie that connected us. “I must cancel our bargain, Peter.”
“What?” He reared back. “Why?”
“My life is more complicated than what you know. I do not think you would be dancing with me under the stars if you knew the whole of it.” Of Mr. Pendleton, of Lord Gray, of our pending homelessness and poverty.
“I do not understand.” Peter shook his head, his voice breaking. “I know you. I have told you more about myself than I’ve divulged to anyone else. You must give me a better explanation, a better reason than that if you wish to dismiss me so easily.”
Easily? This was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I steeled my resolve. This was for the best. For everyone. “We’ve only known each other a fortnight. You do not know me—not really. Anything you have to say is not based on rational thinking.” I thought of my parents, of the choice they made after one night. I took a step back.
Peter stepped forward, focused, pleading. “I assure you I have thought of everything—”
“I shall have to beg your forgiveness.” I wiped away a tear, clearing my throat. “At present, I cannot offer more of an explanation. I think in time you will see I have made the right choice.”
I grabbed the lantern and Peter’s gift from the step and walked alone into the house.
Chapter Twenty-One
I’d trained my heart against pain too well. Too easily it retreated to its cage, like an animal too beaten down to stand. I slept in the next morning, having no good reason to wake.
When I entered the drawing room, Mr. Gregory approached Lady Demsworth, bowing. “Sir Ronald and the men are anxiously awaiting your arrival in order to begin the competition, my lady.”
What competition? Had I missed something?
“Of course. Now that Amelia is here, we shall depart directly. Inform Miss Turnball, if you would, please, Mr. Gregory.” Lady Demsworth turned to me. “It appears Ronald cannot wait another moment. Shall we?”
“Forgive me, I must have missed an explanation—”
“Of course you did, what with your mind on other things,” Lady Demsworth said as she led me out onto the veranda. “The men have organized a fishing competition. The biggest fish wins a prize.”
“Oh. That sounds ... diverting.” What sort of prize were they competing for? And would Peter be there?
Beatrice and I accompanied Lady Demsworth to the pond, which was as serene and beautiful as I remembered it being, to find Mrs. Turnball, Clara, and Georgiana already there. A small group of chairs had been placed a short distance away from the men.
Poles in hand, the men looked serious, having each secured a spot along with a servant to assist them with their tackle. Peter stood near the pond, and I leaned back in my chair, watching him. Waiting. But he would not meet my gaze. It seemed that even our friendship was ruined. I tried to tell myself I did not mind, that the distance between us was all for the best.
“Welcome, ladies.” Sir Ronald waved. “I have decided that the biggest catch will win tickets to a symphony at the concert hall this evening with the lady of his choice. The competition will last two hours. After which, the largest fish will be weighed, a winner declared, and then Cook will prepare a delicious feast for us all.”
“Huzzah!” Lieutenant Rawles cheered, nearly dropping his pole.
Peter wiped his brow with a handkerchief, looking rather worn already. He was fiercely competitive, but was he a good fisherman? I’d yet to see him fail at anything.
