They hesitated together in the entryway. Tessa inspected her shoes, her mother the ceiling.
“I’ll change my gown.” Tessa waved toward the stairs.
“Do.” Her mother disappeared toward the kitchen.
Tessa flew up the stairs and into her room. She fell onto her bed and slipped the advertisement out of her pocket, unfolded it slowly. It was covered in large block text from top to bottom, and it promised “a spectacle of the highest order, a revelation of truth, at the Grand Folly Theatre.” It was to be a “confession of most scandalous nature between the evening pantomime andLovers’ Vows.” And admittance was free.
“What are you doing, Remmy?”
There was one final note, in smallest typeset, at the very bottom of the page: “Special appearance by Richard Islington.”
Islington… Islington… the name was so familiar, but she couldn’t place?—
Richard Islington. R___ I___.
She rose from the bed and wandered toward the window, folding the advertisement neatly and resting it on the sill. Surely, he wasn’t going to… But Daphne had said Remmy was determined to be good. Because that’s what Tessa needed.
No! She didn’t need good. Her mother did. And if Remmy confessed that Islington was the June Rake instead of himself, he might lose his audience. He would lose the Folly!
No. No, no, no. Why would he do that?
Because he loved her. And she’d chosen her mother, Verity, and by extension Tilbury. And he wasn’t done fighting.
Something inside Tessa broke in two. She inhaled, an unexpected sob ripping up her throat.
She loved him. For so, so long she’d loved him, though it had been impossible to see. She’d not known love was soft and steady. She’d not known it could look like disappointed eyes as well as a teasing grin. She’d not known it could scorch and itcould please. She’d not known it could fill a person up so fully it became a part of them. Itbecame them.
But it did. And she felt it all for Remmy—the need to protect, to tease, to challenge, the desire to be his soft home and his hot fire.
She wanted to be his everything.
Because he was hers.
There was no right answer here, no wholly good decision. She hurt someone no matter what she chose. She might as well choose for herself.
She stuffed the advertisement in her pocket and flew to her trunk. She’d have to move fast. She wouldn’t be able to carry much. But the stagecoach could get her to London in time if she left now. She found her valise and began to stuff it full—chemise and stockings and a gown, her tooth powder and hairbrush.
A knock on the door startled her.
“What are you doing?” Verity hovered in the doorway.
Tessa stood. “I… I’m leaving.”
“Oh good. That means I do not have to set a fire in the garden.” She bounced into the room and made herself comfortable on the bed. “Frederick Ives is waiting for you down the road. Should I tell him you’re coming?”
Tessa sat heavily on the bed beside her sister. “Set fire in the garden? I think we moved on from that statement too quickly.”
“A distraction to help you escape. I’m fully prepared to do it if needs must. Frederick said I could.”
“Needs absolutely do not must.”
“A pity. But I am pleased you’re storming out of your volition.”
“I wish I could stay, Verity. I know I am failing you, but I cannot marryTilbury.”
Verity blinked. “Of course you cannot. What a tragedy that would be.”
“You’re not… disappointed in me? I’m abandoning you. Mother and Father will never let me near you again.” Not if she married Remmy, and she would if he’d still have her.
