The logic was sound. The feeling in her chest was not. She took Wilfrey’s hand and let him lead her back to the floor, and she did not look at Hugo as she passed him, because looking at Hugo would have required acknowledging the tight, miserable knot that had formed beneath her ribs the moment Wilfrey bowed.
This time, as they moved through the figures, Wilfrey spoke less of the weather and more of things that mattered. Books. The strange loneliness of being surrounded by people and still feeling unseen. He was earnest, careful, and kind.
At the end of the dance, he bowed over her hand and held it a moment longer than necessary.
“I wish I had spoken sooner,” he said. “Before your engagement was announced.”
Lily’s breath caught.
There it was.
Not a declaration, but the shape of one. The possibility she had once wanted. The door she had spent weeks trying to open.
She should have felt joy.
Instead, something in her sank.
Wilfrey stood before her, offering her exactly what she had claimed to desire, and all she could think was that his hand did not feel right around hers.
Not wrong. Just… not enough.
“Thank you, my lord.” She responded with all the warmth she could manage, then excused herself before the ache in her chest could reach her face.
The terrace doors opened beneath her hand, and cool night air rushed over her skin. She crossed to the stone balustrade and gripped it hard.
Moonlight silvered the gardens. Behind her, the ballroom glowed with life and music, with everything she ought to want waiting only a few steps away.
She had done it. The plan had worked.
So why did she feel as though she had lost something?
The terrace door opened behind her.
“You fled rather quickly,” Hugo said. “I feared you might faint from your triumph.”
Lily closed her eyes.
Of course, he had followed her.
“I wished for air.”
“Wilfrey is taken with you. You should be celebrating.”
“I am pleased.”
“You do not look pleased.” His voice came closer. “You look as though someone has handed you a gift you no longer want.”
Her fingers tightened around the railing. “You do not know what I want.”
“I know what you said you wanted. Wilfrey is offering you all of those things. Why does it feel like a disappointment?”
She turned on him.
All the composure she had stitched around herself that evening tore straight down the middle.
“Because you have ruined it.”
The words burst out before she could stop them.
