Prologue
July 10, 1901
“I’mnotlettingyouget off this boat until you agree to marry me.”
Nausea gripped Henry’s gut, not entirely unrelated to the rocking of the surrounding ship. He reached for Ellie’s hand, his fingers trembling, but she pulled away, giving him her back.
“Marry me,” he said, his voice cracking.
Ellie didn’t look at him when she spoke. “You know why I won’t. Why Ican’t.”
The coastline of Cardiff loomed behind her, its cathedral spires and smoke stacks mocking him like a harbinger of doom.Everything will change once we get back.
“You’re wrong.” He caught her hand this time and felt her jolt at his touch before dropping it, the slight cutting him to his core. “It won’t be like before. Everything will be different. Everythingisdifferent for us.”
She turned then, her silver eyes, usually bubbling with warmth, flashing cold as steel. The winds had pulled severalscarletcurls from her careful chignon, and they danced around her cheeks, tempting him to reach out and touch her. “And why exactly would it be different?”
“Because I love you,” he blurted, loud enough to draw stares from the other passengers on the deck. “And you love me, and we’d be foolish to live separate lives again when we know what we can be together.”
“I will not marry you.” Each word struck him individually, like bullets to his heart. He wouldn’t be a coward, not this time, with so much at risk.
“Christ, El.” He ran his hand roughly through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before capturing her gaze. “Let’s have a go at this. We could be so happy together. Why would you give that up?”
“Because none of this was real!” she cried, her eyes suddenly blazing, cheeks flushed. “All of those times, when I needed you, when Iwantedyou…” A single tear fell from her eye and she dashed it away as if she didn’t want him to see it. “You made me believe I was special to you, but I was wrong. Horribly, painfully wrong.”
The heavy weight on his chest pressed harder, pushing the air from his lungs. “I was an idiot—”
“But I’m not,” Ellie interrupted. “Perhaps I was an idiot, pining for you for so long, but I won’t any longer. I’m putting myself first. I can’t let you hurt me again.” She stepped back from him and removed her glove.
She pulled the band from her left hand, and Henry’s heart jumped to his throat. “No." His voice broke. “Please don’t—”
“I’m sorry, Henry,” she whispered before taking his hand and pressing the ring into his palm.
Chapter 1
Five years and six months earlier
“Thisiswhytheyrefer to such events as a crush, isn’t it?” Henry shouted to his cousin William Tottle, Marquess of Hillgate, who stood mere inches away. The cacophony from the hundreds of guests pressed into the ballroom at Fensworth Manor made normal conversation impossible. Garland covered every horizontal surface in the room, making it appear as though an entire pine forest had sacrificed its existence to be beribboned and flung upon the walls. The orchestra stuffed in the corner alternated between carols and waltzes, while the air was thick with the scent of spiced wine and overly applied perfumes.
Henry’s mother, the Countess of Fensworth, had outdone herself this year, turning her annual Christmas fete into the social event of the season by inviting everyone of consequence. Having received the news that he would not, in fact, be graduating from Oxford in the spring alongside his classmates, Henry was grateful to have his parents distracted by the festivities.
His fingers itched around his champagne glass. The colors of the room drew him in; the play of light over the lush fabrics and hard surfaces inspired him to put his pencils to paper and capture the scene in a way he never could with words. Drawing would be a better use of his time than consuming glass after glass of champagne while making polite chatter with his mother’s friends.
A passing guest bumped William just as he raised his glass in a mock toast and slopped most of his wine down his waistcoat and over Henry’s sleeve. Both men sighed. “A waste of a perfectly good drink,” William said, as he wiped it off with his handkerchief.
“I wouldn’t call it perfectly good,” Henry said with a smirk. “Anything of interest out there tonight?”
William huffed. “The standard boring debutantes and desperate mamas, but this time garbed in festive colors.”
Henry had enough experience in ballrooms to recognize the wide-eyed innocence of the novices of the social circuit, as well as the pinched lips and tight shoulders of the mothersshepherding their daughters through their third seasons. His lip curled and he looked around for an easy exit. The entire charade screamed of leading livestock to auction, and it seemed the birth of their savior would not be enough to distract the matchmakers from their mission.
One such mother pushed a young woman towards a gentleman a few paces away.Lord Fairleigh, Henry thought, suppressing the urge to groan. A veritable prick. Approaching the age of forty, the man had spent most of his life wasting away his fortune in gaming hells and brothels, clinging to his misspent youth by socializing with gentlemen more than a decade his junior, Henry included. When his brother died unexpectedly and he inherited the barony, Fairleigh was suddenly on the hunt for a wife whose dowry could fill the rapidly depleting family coffers.
Henry felt a jolt of sympathy.Poor girl,she’ll catch a disease just by shaking his hand.
Surely this girl’s mother must know Fairleigh’s reputation, but the woman persisted, placing her hand on her daughter’s back to edge her forward. Fairleigh turned up his nose at the girl, and Henry understood why, even if the man’s transparent method repulsed him.
The girl was full-figured, endowed with more curves than thetonwould consider stylish. She was barely over five feet tall and had generous hips and heavy breasts; her pale pink dress with its excessive decorations distorted what would be appealing proportions. Henry was partial to a voluptuous woman, but only when she wore her curves confidently. As this girl was attempting to blend into the scenery, he doubted she had the self-assurance to carry her generous figure. She was pretty enough, with a delicate nose, milky skin, a rosebud mouth set in a heart-shaped face, and ginger hair slicked back into a tight knot studded with pearls.
