The carriage clattered against the cobblestones as they entered London’s city limits. When Tuck had flown over, he’d landed in Heathrow but hadn’t lingered. His priority had been to see Nora, so he’d ignored all the advertisements for the palaces, West End shows, torture museums, and double-decker bus tours and jumped on a quick commuter to Bath. Now, almost a week after leaving Scotland, the sheer magnitude of the city, even in this time, sank in as they traversed the busy streets. It far eclipsed the towns and quaint villages they had passed on their long journey back from Gretna Green.
Night crept in, and lamps flickered, casting a glow down twisted lanes. The scene brought back memories of the labyrinth from Nora’s old picture book of Greek myths—the one with the Minotaur art that gave him bad dreams, even when he was the older brother pretending not to care. The air was thick with the smell of decaying wood and mud.
“That’s the Thames,” Lizzy mentioned casually, as he coughed into his fist. “The river’s not particularly close, but when the wind blows from the south during the summer, you can enjoy that distinctive blend of brine and fish all over town.”
“Good to be home?” he inquired.
“London’s complicated.” She glanced out the carriage window, fidgeting with the pearl button fastening her glove. “The city’s never felt like a place where I belong. And the atmosphere in my stepfather’s townhouse—well, let’s just say it is nothing like the Woodlands.”
When she turned back to Tuck, her tight smile didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “But,” she reiterated for the third time in the past hour, “all shall be well. I’m not the least bit troubled.”
Tuck studied her like he was gauging the morale of a teammate. Lizzy’s flushed cheeks and distant expression hinted at a different truth, as if she were gearing up for a high-stakes game.
Henry had ridden ahead from Gretna Green, the little weasel practically vibrating with excitement to be the bearer of bad news. Although Henry’s three brain cells failed to perceive it as such, his early departure served a purpose. By leaving a few days before them, he gave Lizzy time to gather her strength for the impending confrontation. Henry had cheerfully insinuated it didn’t matter, as she’d just be arriving for her funeral. But having him break the news was a hell of a lot better for her than showing up unannounced with a new husband and saying, “Surprise, surprise.” This way, her parents would have a head start on processing the event.
“Tell me about the part of the city that you live in,” he said, to keep her talking.
“Mayfair.” Her voice was high, strained. “We’ve now passed Wembley and Notting Hill, and are into Marylebone. This is where I was raised.”
“You’ve mentioned your family is well-off?”
“Though we’re more fortunate than many, it’s not sufficient enough for their ambition. While we now reside in Mayfair, it’s not within the most prestigious enclave, like Grosvenor Square.That’s why you can see my purpose in this world is to secure an attachment to a gentleman from such a quarter to aid our climb. Wit, humor, kindness—basic decency. All those traits in a partner are negotiable if the address is right. Mayfair, you see, is not merely a neighborhood; it’s a ladder we’re all required to climb. The option of avoiding marriage and preserving my independence has never been truly viable.”
“I’m sorry,” Tuck said sincerely. “We should all have the right to choose our own paths in life. When you were talking just then, it made me think how marriage is no longer the measure of a woman’s worth in my time. Except...”
“Yes?” Lizzy leaned in, curious. “What is it?”
“I went to a wedding before coming out here to England. It was for a teammate—Jason Burns. The bride wore a traditional white dress, which I guess symbolizes purity. Everyone kept going on about how thin she looked. Her father ‘gave her away,’ and she took her fiancé’s last name. To conclude the ceremony, the minister, also a man, granted the groom permission to kiss the bride. Even with all of this, they called it ‘her day.’” Rubbing his forehead, Tuck confessed, “It’s pretty strange when you really think about it.”
Lizzy nodded thoughtfully. “It’s hard to notice pitfalls when you hold the advantage. But to think that even hundreds of years in the future, so much remains the same? How utterly wearying.”
The carriage slowed. Lizzy shook her head as if refocusing her thoughts. “What are your parents like?”
Tuck frowned, memories of a less-than-perfect family surfacing. “My dad always worked; he’s an air-traffic controller and, uh, well, explaining the finer points of that job would be complicated. Suffice it to say that he is rigid, detail-oriented, and life-or-death decisions are part of his job. Everything has to beby the book, and if anyone in my family wanted to go in a different direction... he didn’t always take to it easily or kindly.”
The carriage stopped. He didn’t have time to explain about Nora or why his little sister had wanted to get so far away that she left the whole damn country. Because one lesson he’d taken to heart from Dad was to triage and focus on the biggest problem first.
Right now? That was Lizzy’s family.
He climbed out of the carriage and peered up at the four-story townhouse with its rows of symmetrical windows and pale stucco exterior. The double doors were carved with wooden rosettes and framed by simple Greek columns. The vibe was very much “Don’t touch anything with your filthy fingers, peasant.”
A curtain twitched on the second floor.
“I’m sorry in advance,” Lizzy said, reaching out to take his hand.
“What for? If your family is weird, that’s not on you.”
“But I’m sorry nevertheless.” She squeezed his fingers and then, as she tried to withdraw, he held on.
“We go in together,” Tuck asserted. “As a united front, no matter what happens. In hockey, there’s a saying—speed is hard to defend. If we work together, they won’t know what hit them.”
A footman opened the door and bowed to Lizzy. “Welcome home, miss,” he said, before correcting himself. “My apologies,Mrs.Taylor. Right this way.”
Lizzy nodded her greeting and they strode inside. Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble of the grand entrance hall as they passed a sweeping staircase. They walked by a room with overstuffed armchairs and sofas gathered under ornate chandeliers, which cast a warm glow on gilded mirrors and silk-draped windows. They passed a formal dining room, and then a library.All the decorative touches added elegance, but the atmosphere remained impersonal, like a model home, or even a museum—no personal items anywhere.
They paused before closed doors. “They await you in the drawing room,” the footman said, his tone carrying a hint of pity.
“Thank you, John,” Lizzy replied solemnly.
