Page 40 of Victorian Bride

And they were kissing.

Mya froze in place, her mind trying to sort the details of what lay in front of her. Kayden was standing in the room, apparently a library, if the decor was anything to go by, and pressed up against him as though she had some right was Miss Blanche Auteberry, one of her skinny hands curled around the back of his neck. The realization had taken only the barest fraction of an instant. Kayden’s right hand, Mya saw with a twist in her stomach, was on the other woman’s hip, his left curled around her upper arm.

She might have just turned and left, left Kayden to Miss Auteberry and her bony, clutching hands, but that was the moment that the tart fell from fingers gone suddenly weak. It hit the ground loudly. Both Kayden and Miss Auteberry whipped around to see what the source of the sound was.

Miss Auteberry nearly stumbled back with how quickly she had broken apart from Kayden.

“Mya,” Kayden said. “Fuck. Mya. This isn’t—”

“No.” Mya shook her head. “Absolutely not, Kayden McGregor. I don’t care what your excuse is.” She blinked back the burn of tears, refusing to let them fall in front of him. “Am I not good enough for you? Is that it? Maybe I’m not rich enough. Or maybe I don’t talk the way I’m supposed to? Is that why?”

“No, Mya. None of that is—”

Kayden took a step forward as he spoke, but Blanche Auteberry stopped him, wrapping a hand around his arm and digging her nails in.

Mya turned and walked away, stepping deliberately in the chocolate tart on her way out. It seemed the chocolate would be wasted after all.

She had nearly reached the door when the sound of shoes following made her turn to see who was there. Blanche Auteberry was behind her, looking down her long nose at Mya as though she were regarding something she had scraped off her shoe. Ruined chocolate tart, for instance.

“What do you want?” Mya demanded.

“All of those suggestions you made back there as to why you are not enough? They are completely true,” she said. “You have no income in your own right, and no inheritance. Your speech marks you very obviously as a member of the lower class, whatever claims you may make to the contrary, and the fact that Miss Alan and Miss MacLaren are wealthy and have chosen to take you in does not mean that you are qualified. Both of them are rich enough to have their eccentricities, but you do not have enough status to protect yourself from the rumors that go with them, nor from the rumors that go with you.” She sniffed. “You need to move along now, Miss Boyle. This is not the place for one of your kind.”

Mya suddenly wished, very fervently, that she hadn’t wasted her chocolate tart by simply stepping on it. She would have dearly liked to throw it in Blanche Auteberry’s face and watch it drip down her perfect white blouse.

“You’ve no need to worry about me,” she said, tipping her chin up high. “I’m leaving. If you wish to keep Kayden, go right ahead. He’s yours. Slightly used, or broken in. Whichever you prefer.”

With that, she spun on her heel and stalked out the door, hurrying across the lawn and down into the garden that opened on the back fields. Kayden hadn’t even come after her. Alone, she finally let the tears that had been threatening since the moment she saw them together fall.

How could he? After everything? Was it some sort of game to him? To see what he could get away with? He had already convinced her to take him back once. Maybe he wanted to know if he could do it a second time. But he would find that she wasn’t so easy to convince.

The walk home was faster than the walk to Kayden’s, driven by anger. When Mya swept up the garden path to the veranda, Lottie was still sitting on the bench, but she looked up at the sound of Mya’s steps and, at the sight of her face, tossed the book aside without bothering to mark her place.

“Mya?” She crossed the porch and laid a hand on Mya’s shoulder. “What is it?”

“You will never believe,” Mya said, panting to catch her breath and stop the tears. “What I just saw.”

Lottie tugged her gently toward the door and inside, guiding her to sit down at the dining table while she fetched her some water. She whispered something Mya couldn’t hear to one of the maids, who rushed off.

“What happened?” Lottie asked, sinking into a chair and setting the water down in front of Mya.

“I went to Kayden’s, as you know, to bring him some chocolate tart since the last one was somewhat ruined.” She didn’t even care anymore what Lottie thought of that. “When I arrived, there was a coach there. I thought perhaps he had a visitor, something work related, and I ought to have waited to see him until I had announced my intention to do so, but since I was already there, I went to deliver the tart.”

The maid returned, just then, with a little plate of fruit and cheese, and Eleanora on her heels.

“And would you believe it,” Mya said, choking back a sob. “His visitor was Miss Auteberry.”

Lottie and Eleanora exchanged looks. She was sure they both knew where the story was going. It was rather obvious. She took a sip of the water Lottie had handed her to soothe the ache in her throat.

“They were kissing, when I saw them. When I left, he didn’t even follow me. And then she came out and told me that I’m not rich and the two of you letting me stay here doesn’t change that. And that my accent marks me as lower class, or some such nonsense.” Mya’s jaw tightened. “She told me that I’m not good enough for Kayden, and that his home wasn’t the place for people of my kind. Whatever that means.”

The words dissolved into tears, and Mya couldn’t go on with the story. There wasn’t much else to tell anyway. What had happened with the tart wasn’t important.

“Oh, Mya.” Lottie was there, then, a pair of warm arms wrapped around her, and Mya leaned into the other woman’s chest, trying not to cry too much on her dress.

“She had no right,” Eleanora said, voice tight.

“Of course she did not,” Lottie said, stroking Mya’s hair while Mya gave up on not ruining her clothing and just cried. “Though I daresay no one has ever taught her that there is a single thing in this world to which she is not entitled.”