“What is this I hear about an engagement being announced between yourself and Mr. Bromley tonight?” His voice came out with more heat than he’d intended.
“It’s what I wanted to speak with you about, James—” Her wide-eyed gaze snapped to his. “You saidtonight?”
“Yes. Mrs. Waiting told my father the news.” He could see only the outline of her features in the dim light, but he sensed her dismay.
“My father expressed more than once that he wished for the match but has not heeded my repeated objections.”
“Your objections are not clear enough, then. You do not stand up to your father as you should.” Frustration chased civility from his words.
“And do you stand up to yours?” Her sardonic laugh exited in a huff. “Who among us can disregard the wishes of our parents?”
He seized both of her hands. “Well, let us do so now.” Their solution for assuring their future came to James with sudden clarity, and he was determined to bring it about. “I have just this morning learned that my great-aunt Mary is expensing my tour of the Continent, and I am to leave within the month. Come with me! There is nothing more simple. Let us marry and go together.” To betroth this woman he loved so completely—nowinstead of in some distant future—was suddenly all he could think about. They would not need to separate at all.
“A tour? James, I cannot—”
He tightened his grip on her hands. “No, youmust! This is precisely what we shall do, for our parents will never approve the match. We must forge our own path. Think of it.” James gave his enthusiasm free rein. “Can you not picture us walking hand in hand on the streets of Paris? Being carried over the Alps on our way to Venice with such a view as you have never seen? Let us marry and go on this great adventure together.”
The cloud hiding the moon moved on, flooding the library with light. It was enough to see the look of horror on her face.
She retreated a step, the movement tugging at their intertwined hands. “I cannot leave my family. I don’twantto travel to Paris or be carried over the Alps. You are not thinking like a rational man.”
He opened his mouth to contradict her, but she went on, unyielding. “Who is to say your great-aunt will still pay for your voyage if you are to be encumbered by a wife? Besides, it requires weeks to marry, even with a common license, and our parents would put an end to it.”
He shook his head. “You are too worried about the details, Amy. Trust me for once to make a good decision for our future.” She had to hear the pleading in his voice.
Amy paused long enough for him to see that the balance was not tipping in his favor. She shook her head. “You are reasoning like a boy and not a man. This plan is only half formed, James. We cannot marry on those terms.”
A boy? The words stung. Her obstinacy, and also the insult. He dropped her hands, and the motion made her fall back another step, increasing the distance between them. James had declared his intentions to his father, had been willing to alienate his family, and this was how he was to be rewarded? Even a fool could see she was unwilling to sacrifice anything for him.
“If you do not like the manner in which I propose to resolve our predicament, perhaps you ought to marry Mr. Bromley.Heis old enough to be the man you are clearly looking for.”
“Perhaps I will!” she shot back, her voice laced with hurt.
Amy was not generally a woman betrayed into uttering the first thing that entered her mind. But James was too upset to see reason, and he walked over to the door and yanked it open, gesturing forward with a bow.
“I would not for the world keep you, madam. Shall I see you to yourintended?”
She swept past him, her nose lifted high. When he closed the door to the library behind him, he could hear Mrs. Waiting callingeveryone to order. Amy halted on the edge of the ballroom, and James heard Mr. Bridwell’s exclamation.
“There you are, my dear. I have been searching for you. Come forward, come forward.”
She did, and James followed slowly as dread overtook him. By the time he reached the edge of the ballroom, everyone’s eyes were fixed on where Amy and her father stood in the center. No one noticed James’s presence.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I solicit your most gracious attention. I am pleased to announce the betrothal of my most excellent friend, Mr. Erasmus Bromley, to my daughter Miss Amy Bridwell.”
Amy’s expression was frozen. James watched her, waiting for her to put an end to the greatest piece of nonsense he had ever heard. Bromley had never married, though he was more than twice her age. He was a bookish man much in the way of Mr. Bridwell—an odd sort who was just as impractical and not half as brilliant. Surely she could not accept such a man.
But she made no objection and allowed herself to be transported into the sea of congratulations. Seconds ticked by as James watched in disbelief.
It was a settled thing, then. Amy was betrothed to another man. He would not stay and be forced to witness such a farce. He went to retrieve his hat, dodging well-wishers encircling the couple.
As he burst into the outdoors, the evening air enveloped him, cool after the heat of the ballroom. In his mind, he saw her cheeks flushed, heard her voice pitched in anger. But it was the memory of their sweet kiss from the day before that shattered his heart. He knew with a certainty it would never again be whole.
Chapter 1
Ostend,theAustrianNetherlands
April1770
