He trailed off as something snagged in his throat, a feeling he did not like, rising emotions that needed to remain buried. It was, perhaps, the one trait of his father’s that he had not sought to shuffle off: not giving himself permission to feel things deeply when such feelings might be dangerous.
“If you had known what?” Octavia sank down in the armchair opposite, a rather stern look upon her face.
Hugo shrugged. “I have forgotten how I meant to end that sentence.”
“No, you did not,” she replied sharply. “You were going to say something, you lost your nerve, and now you are feigning ignorance.”
He had to laugh, for his sister never failed to figure him out, even when his thoughts were a mystery to himself.
“Now, explain to me why you are not going to the botanical gardens tomorrow?” Octavia said. “Is Miss Parsons aware of this?”
“I sent word to her earlier,” he replied, tapping his skull. “Bad headache.”
“Brandy will not remedy that,” his sister said, her voice a shade softer. “But you do not have a headache, do you? I have a sense that the ache is just a little lower down, somewhere around here.”
She touched a hand to her chest, above her heart.
“Would that be fair to say?” she asked.
“Ridiculous.” He sniffed. “My heart is a solid as a rock. It does not ache.”
She sighed and drummed her fingertips upon the armrests. “Will you rearrange the outing with Miss Parsons?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have no desire to maintain the charade of the thing,” he replied tersely, and immediately regretted it. “I do not want to give Miss Parsons false hope. She is wasting her time with me.”
Octavia nodded slowly. “And why is that?”
“What do you mean?” He narrowed his eyes at his sister, uncertain of when she became so astute.
“She is the diamond of the Season, she is beautiful, she is well connected, she is actually quite a nice person. Why is she wasting her time with you when, by all logic, sheshouldbe an ideal match for you?” There was a sly note in Octavia’s voice as if she already knew the answer; she just wanted him to admit it to her.
He shrugged and refilled his glass. “Because I am not drawn to her. I have no romantic interest in her, regardless of the ‘logic’ of public opinion.” He paused, the cogs in his mind turning rather slowly thanks to the brandy. “It took two outings to know that she was just a beautiful woman that I could never marry.”
“And how many encounters did it take before you knew your heart had already been stolen by someone else?” Octavia asked with a sympathetic smile.
His heartdidtwinge in response, as he frowned at the fireplace and willed the flames to make his thoughts simpler.
I knew at the opera that she was… different. Was it in the woods where I began to feel more? Was it earlier than that? The card game? The walk through the gardens, when all I wanted to hear was what she was saying?
He tipped forward in the chair, hunching over, resting his weary head in his hands as memories weaved together in his mind, creating a tapestry of his affection for the woman he had barely noticed upon their first meeting. The woman he now could not stop thinking about. The woman who was, at this minute, wearing his necklace and the gown he could never forget, at a dinner party with another gentleman.
“I love her,” he whispered, as if it were a fragile thing that might break if he admitted it too loudly, too confidently.
“Which one?” Octavia pressed.
He raised his head and stared at his sister. “Evelyn.” His breath caught in his throat. “I love Evelyn… but it is too late.”
“She is to be married in under a month, not by noon tomorrow,” Octavia pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “I would not call that ‘too late,’ brother.”
He shook his head. “She is engaged to her father’s choice. Her family loathes me… and probably loathes me even more at present.Shewas the one who told me to leave her home. She does not want to see me again.Thatis why it is too late.”
“Nonsense, it just means you have to work harder to win her favor,” Octavia said with a shrug, as if that were the simplest task in the world.
“Her home will be a fortress now. How would I even find the opportunity to see her, speak to her?” Hugo urged, needing his sister’s wisdom. “I should have said something sooner!”
