Page 71

She’d spent years cultivating a spotless reputation—at least, until she’d been left at the altar by Phineas Beardsly. So much had depended on her appearing to be beyond reproach. If she ran away, she’d be effectively throwing her hard work out the window once people found out. She could delay for a day or two by pretending she was just staying with a friend, but eventually there would be no hiding the truth.

Part of her was loath to lose something she’d cultivated so carefully, but she couldn’t stay and marry Mr. Emerson. She just couldn’t.

She ducked out the back door and waved down a hackney cab. As the unmarked carriage stopped, she dabbed her eyes and struggled to corral her thoughts. She didn’t know where she was going, but she had better make up her mind.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t turn up on Trevor’s doorstep and ask for sanctuary, no matter how much she wanted to press herself against his broad chest and let him take the weight off her shoulders. If she did that, she’d ruin them both. The only other person who might shelter her was Letitia, but was she prepared to bring so much trouble to her closest friend?

“Where to?” the cab driver asked impatiently.

Knowing she really had no other option, she gave him Letitia’s address and handed over the coin.

She scrambled into the carriage with none of her usual grace, distracted by everything that had happened in the space of a half hour. Her father had promised her to Mr. Emerson. She’d packed everything she could carry with her, given half her worldly wealth to Bessie, and left her behind.

She’d run away.

Run. Away.

Good lord, she could hardly get her head around the notion.

Yes, she’d always been daring in that she’d conducted her experiments in secret, but she’d also always played the part of the proper society miss. In a few impulsive minutes, she’d exploded her life as she’d known it, and her emotions were such a mess that she had no idea how she felt about that.

She couldn’t go back.

With no idea what might come next, she watched the London streets pass by, people walking about on their daily errands with absolutely no idea of the terrifying situation Seraphina found herself in. It was all so normal that she couldn’t stand it, and she pulled the curtain closed so that she wouldn’t have to see them.

The carriage reached its destination, and the driver opened the door for her. She hesitated, suddenly uncertain about her decision to come here. Would Letitia resent her for bringing nothing but problems with her? Would begging for help from her oldest friend be more strain than their relationship could weather?

The last thing she wanted was to hurt her.

“Miss,” the driver prompted, and she stood reluctantly and descended from the carriage. He shut the door, climbed back into position, and the horses’ hooves clopped as they trotted away, the carriage rumbling behind them.

Seraphina just stood there, hovering in front of the town house, half tempted to call the carriage back, return home, and pretend she’d never hared off. But if she did that, she’d be forced to marry Mr. Emerson. Her future would stretch ahead of her in a never-ending series of balls, dinner parties, and meaningless conversation that always fell short of communicating anything real.

She gathered her courage and knocked.

CHAPTER 25

“Mr. Dalton would like to know if you’re at home,” the butler said, interrupting Trevor’s deep concentration as he wrote notes in the margin of a recent academic article about a cross-breeding experiment carried out on apple varietals.

Trevor cocked his head. Why on earth would Seraphina’s father be calling on him? They’d agreed upon the marriage settlement, and the banns were to be read soon. He couldn’t think of anything they might need to discuss.

“Have you put him in the parlor?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very well.” Trevor marked the page to show where he’d gotten to and reached up to smooth his hands over his hair, checking that everything was in place. He fastened the top two buttons of his shirt and checked that he hadn’t spilled anything on his waistcoat, then followed the butler through to the parlor.

Mr. Dalton stood in the center of the room, his hands clasped together at waist height. As usual, he wore mostly black, and the dark colors served to emphasize his unnaturally pale appearance. His hair was mussed and his gaze swung to Trevor, the pupils darting around more quickly than usual.

For once, Trevor wasn’t the one who seemed frazzled during one of their encounters. What a pleasant change.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Has something happened to Seraphina?”

“Yes.” He grimaced. “Er, no, not really, but yes, in a way. I think it would be best if we talk in the privacy of your office.”

How curious. It wasn’t as if they were surrounded by others in this small parlor. Whatever Mr. Dalton wanted to discuss must be a sensitive matter.

“Very well.”