Fern exhaled slowly. “I know, and we should have. But then I started to feel…affection…”
She stopped when Rose tightened her grip and pulled Fern towards her in an embrace. “I’m not surprised,” she mumbled against Fern’s hair. “He’s an intelligent man, and so kind. And you can talk to him, unlike so many other gentlemen.” Rose drew back and gave her sister an understanding if somewhat pitying smile. “I understand how you might fancy him.”
Fern bit the inside of her cheek. “I never intended to steal him—”
“I know,” Rose interrupted, as though dismissing her concern altogether, and the understanding tone of her voice vanished. “But you won’t be working together any longer, and soon he will be my fiancé. The littletendreyou feel for him will surely disappear.”
Fern shook her head, unable to believe what her sister was saying. Was that all her sister believed her capable of? A girlish infatuation? She had a flashing desire to tell Rose outright about their kisses, Alex’s declarations, to shatter the illusion Fern was unworthy and could never interest someone like Alex, let alone win his affection. But Fern had never given her sister a chance, undermining their relationship from the start. Her stomach twisted.
“Perhaps that is why Alex and I get on so well because he is so much like you,” Rose said wistfully, before turning to Fern, her gaze direct. “But Alex wants to marry me, Fern. It would only make things difficult if you were to tell him about this…fixation of yours.”
“Rose, I would never—”
“Good,” Rose said, standing from Fern’s bed and smoothing her skirts. “You’ll forget about it in no time at all.” She gave her sister one last smile, although it did not reach her eyes. “And I know you can keep a secret.”
As Rose swept out the door without looking back, Fern’s blood ran cold. With trembling hands she lifted her notebooks from her desk, papers overflowing with equations and sketches, ideas and poetry, and tore them out, one by one, until the pile nearly covered the floor. Feeding them to the fire, she watched as her dreams disappeared into smoke and ashes. She did not have the heart to try again. Where mathematics had once been a source of comfort, numbers now only caused pain. She would not have Oxford, and she could not have Alex if she wanted to keep her sister. All of her anguish, the plotting and scheming, and it had come to nothing.
Fern stood and wiped the ash from her hands on her skirts then crossed to her desk. Steadying her breath, she opened the note Aunt Margaret had pushed into her hand before her carriage departed that morning.
There is no good to be had from you staying at Boar’s Hill. Spare yourself the pain and come be my companion. My cottage in Hampshire has an overflowing library and plenty of stuffy old ladies we can scandalize together.
Tears blurred her vision as she contemplated her next steps. She would have to leave Oxford after Rose’s wedding to Alex. She could not bear to watch them live together as husband and wife, nor could she stand being surrounded by scholars who would not have her in their company. Her twenty-first birthday was only a few weeks away. Perhaps it was time to listen to her mother’s teaching, settle down and become a wife. After all, two decades of rebellion had left her bereft of hope and a future.
“This is a terrible idea, Alex.”
Alex leaned over Henry’s shoulder to see what he had written. Henry scrawled the message exactly as Alex had dictated it, but his supporting role had not prevented Henry from making editorial comments.
“If you have a better one I’d be thrilled to hear it,” Alex growled.
“You need to talk to her,” Henry repeated as he dropped his pen, although since Alex had ignored the first dozen times he made this suggestion, he should know Alex was unlikely to listen now.
Alex shook his head. “I can’t simply call on her, not without seeing Rose.”
Henry twisted in his seat and fixed Alex with a glare. “And why exactly do you not want to speak to your fiancée?”
“She’s not my fiancée.”
“But she will be,” Henry retorted. “I’m not trying to be cruel, but you know Redborne expects you to ask for her hand when he returns.”
“I know.” Alex groaned and turned away, running his hand through his hair and pulling at the ends. “He’s returning the day after tomorrow, and I’m certain he will want to meet with me.” His small room at Pembroke felt unusually cramped, as though he was being smothered by its brittle stone walls. “But I’m not ready to deal with that yet.”
“When will you be ready?” Henry insisted. “He’ll be back in a matter of days. Are you certain he wants you to ask for Rose?”
“I’m certain. If he’s planning to write me the recommendation, I know the engagement is an expectation.”
“And what if you tell him how you feel about the twin?”
Alex crossed his arms over his chest. “He’d be furious with me, as would Fern. She won’t do anything to hurt her sister.”
“Then the decision is made,” Henry said with an air of practicality. “You’re getting everything you wanted, and more than you deserve, if you ask me. Marrying Redborne’s daughter will give you access to everyone you need to be successful in government work. You could run for office with those connections.”
“But I don’t know if that’s what I want,” Alex cried, leaning his hands on the desk and dropping his head. “Maybe I should forget about London and foreign service. I should stay in academia. I could teach.”
Henry scoffed. “You’re frightened because you don’t know anything besides school. You’ve spent nearly a decade of your life on this campus, Alex, of course you’re scared to leave it.”
“It’s not fear.”
“Then what is it?” Henry challenged. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to be a perpetual academic, it’s a wonderful way to avoid responsibility in life. But that’s just it—you can’t avoid responsibility forever.”
