His voice was quiet and raw, but she heard every word when he said, "I mean to tell her that I love her. And that I'm sorry. And that I've been the biggest fool in England."
Estella stood on the stairs with her hand over her mouth and her heart hammering so hard she could feel it in her throat.
"You love her," Charlotte said slowly.
"Yes."
"You actually love her," Charlotte said again. "Not just as an obligation. Not like a…a governess."
A sound escaped him. It might have been a laugh. "Not like a governess, no."
"And you're definitely not marrying that other lady?"
"I am not marrying anyone. Unless—" He stopped.
"Unless what?"
Another pause. When he spoke again, his voice was so low Estella had to strain to hear it. "Unless your sister will have me."
Charlotte was quiet for what felt like an eternity but was probably four seconds.
"Wait here," she said.
Estella heard small, rapid footsteps. She straightened and tried to look as though she hadn't been eavesdropping on the stairs. But then Charlotte appeared on the staircase, looked up, and—Estella was caught.
"He's here," Charlotte said, completely unnecessarily.
"I heard."
"He says he loves you."
Estella nodded, swallowing the absurd urge to burst into tears. "I—yes, I heard that too."
Charlotte planted her hands on her hips. "Well? Are you going to go down there or are you going to make him stand on the doorstep all morning?"
Estella looked down at the crushed gown, remembered the tangled hair. She looked like a disaster. "I'm going."
Charlotte gave a single satisfied nod and stepped aside.
Estella’s bare feet were silent on the worn wood. She crossed the narrow entrance hall and stopped in the open doorway.
Sebastian stood on the front step. His appearance made her feel markedly better about her own. He was wearing yesterday's coat, creased and wrinkled, his cravat was gone entirely, and his hair looked as though he'd been dragging his hands through it for hours. The morning light caught the scar along his face and the shadows beneath his eyes.
He looked terrible.
And also like the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
His eyes found hers, and everything he'd been holding back was right there on the surface.
"You're not engaged." Her voice came out steadier than she'd expected but tears stupidly sprang to her eyes.
She quickly blinked them away as he took a step forward. "I'm not engaged. I was never engaged. My mother moved forward with the arrangement without my leave. Though I bear the blame of staying silent on the matter." He barely paused for breath, and Estella was very clear on the fact that he’d been planning to say this for quite a while. "Lady Clarissa came to the ball last night to ask me to refuse the match because she's in love with someone else. I told her there was nothing to refuse, because there was never anything to accept."
Estella gripped the doorframe. "But you said…on the terrace. You said there was an understanding. A practical match."
"I know what I said." He gave his head a sharp shake. "My mother had proposed the match, and I hadn't refused, and I told myself that keeping it as an option was…sensible." The word came out bitter. "Because sensible was easier than admitting the truth."
"Which is?"
