Fern trembled in his arms. “I’m terrified, Alex.”
“I know,” he replied. “But we have each other now.”
Several moments and many slow kisses later, he watched Fern walk swiftly along the border of the field toward the gardens of Boar’s Hill. Alex mounted and rode in the other direction until reaching the road, where he paused to catch his breath. How had he allowed his plans to go so far off track? Weeks ago, his life was narrow and focused, his dreams within reach. And then Fern stepped into the library, into his life, and made him doubt everything he held dear. But what value would prominence or wealth be if he did not have Fern to share it with?
Chapter 30
Fernoftenwonderedif,prior to a cataclysmic event in history, there was a premonition of the oncoming disaster. Did the residents of Pompeii set their gaze on Mount Vesuvius for a beat longer on such a fateful day? Did the people of Antioch tread more carefully, as though they knew the ground would soon break apart beneath them? Or had the crisis taken them unawares, sweeping them towards the inevitable destruction without seeing it coming?
When Fern slipped through the servants’ entrance to Boar’s Hill, Mrs. Boyd stood in the kitchen. The housekeeper eyed her tangled hair and mud-stained dressing gown before raising a knowing eyebrow. Fern blushed under the critical glare.
“Miss Fern,” Mrs. Boyd said, her voice sharp, “Are you all right?”
She nodded so quickly her vision blurred. “Yes, I’m—I just need—” she stammered, then stopped herself. “Did anyone notice my absence?”
Mrs. Boyd looked at her through narrowed eyes. “No, they did not.”
Sometimes it is helpful to be invisible.
“Mairi,” the older woman called to the young maid who had entered the kitchen. “Run a bath for Miss Fern. She will need clean clothes as well.”
Fern scrubbed herself with fervor, silently mourning as the lingering scents of Alex washed away from her skin, leaving only a distinct soreness between her legs along with a smear of blood.
It felt like a premonition, watching the red fade into pink in the soapy water. But unlike the people of Pompeii or Antioch, Fern knew disaster was imminent and she would not survive intact. Her stomach knotted, her head pounding. She wished to go back in time and undo everything she had done to lead her to this moment.
The stupefying effects of their passion having drained away like the bath water, Fern saw her situation clearly. She had to make a choice—her sister or Alex. The person who was her constant, her touchstone throughout life, or the person who accepted her completely and made her feel worthy of love.
Choosing a life with Alex would mean giving up her father and mother as well. But the life she had before meeting him held no promise, no chance of happiness. Alex wouldn’t marry Rose, no matter what Fern said or did. He was too honorable a man to harbor the feelings he held for Fern and still marry her sister, no matter what consequences he would face.
She dressed slowly, combing the tangles from her hair before braiding it tightly. The hours passed slowly as if they too dreaded what was coming. By the time the sun crested over the tree line, Fern was a ball of nerves. She sat with a huff in front of her mirror and stared at her reflection. Her lips were flush from his kisses and dark shadows fell below her eyes, evidence of a night with little rest. She was pale and drawn, as though the impossible decision had already drained her vitality.
“You’re being maudlin,” she said out loud, hoping she could bolster her spirits. “Rose will understand, we could not help it.”
“Could not help what?” Fern jumped as Rose entered her room and plopped onto the bench beside her. She lifted Fern’s ivory-handled brush and began pulling it through her chestnut locks as she admired her reflection. “Were you talking to yourself again?”
Fern swallowed, finding it difficult to breathe. “I was,” she admitted.
“It’s nearly eleven, I hope Papa isn’t much longer,” Rose said, bumping her shoulder against her sister. “Alex will call soon and we can finally put this waiting behind us.” She put the brush on her lap and sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait to be married, start my real life.”
“This life isn’t real?”
Even a scowl couldn’t mar Rose’s beautiful face. “You know what I mean. As long as we live here we will be treated as children. Mama barely lets me out the door without reminding me of my manners, and Papa thinks we’re still little girls playing with dolls. And I can’t imagine how it will be for you.”
Fern dropped her gaze to her lap and bit her lip.
“Will you please consider my offer to live with us after we marry, at least until you find someone of your own?” Rose asked.
Fern winced and then stood. “I think it would be a dreadful idea.”
Rose turned so her back was to the mirror and faced her sister, her mouth turned down. “I had forgotten about your…affection for him. I do hope it has passed though, it would make things terribly uncomfortable when we become engaged.”
“Rose,” Fern choked out. “Last night something happened—”
“Excuse me, ladies,” came Salisbury’s low voice. “Mr. Alexander Carroway is here.”
Rose looked at Fern with a wide grin then a gasp as she put her hands to her head. “My hair is still down!”
Fern hurried towards the door, heading off her sister. “Let me greet him, take a moment to gather yourself.”
