AllFreeNovel
Share Us
My dearest Miss Pratt,
It is my understanding felicitations are in order. I received word that you have renewed your betrothal to Mr. Netherborne.
Initially, upon hearing the news, I reflected upon our heated exchange at my sister’s garden party a mere few weeks ago. Permit me to offer my apologies for my words that so grievously injured you, as I have no intention of ever causing you pain.
That being said, it was precisely your insistence on what you expressed as your utmost desire that made me ponder your reasons for reestablishing your attachment to your betrothed. Please forgive my boldness in my assumptions, but I believed you held no great affection for your intended—at least not to the degree you communicated to me during our conversation as being paramount. For propriety’s sake, I will refrain from naming it lest eyes other than your own read this, but certainly you know of what I speak.
I will admit it perplexed me as to why you had agreed to a match that, from my understanding, did not meet your ideal criterion. Therefore, I fully intended to speak with you and urge you not to settle for something that may not ensure your happiness.
Much to my surprise, when I witnessed you and your intended outside of your home in Mayfair this very day, my presumptions appeared utterly false. Unless you aspire to tread the floorboards of the theater, the genuine affection with which you gazed upon his face could not have been fabricated, nor could the returned esteem shining upon his.
Such revelation has only led to more questions on my part.
Was your confession to me false?
Had you overestimated your feelings for me? (I must admit, although I have no right to feel thus, this possibility has wounded my male pride.)
Had you underestimated your affection for Mr. Netherborne?
What has changed in so short a time?
Is there more to this hasty change of heart than meets the eye?
Forgive me for my impertinent questions. I have no right to ask them.
My only concern is for your happiness. If you have found that which you seek with Mr. Netherborne, I can do nothing but wish you joy.
However, rest assured that I will forever cherish fond memories of a girl named Emma who hurled boots and captured chickens.
Ever your servant,
Timothy Marbry
Tears welled in her eyes. Her attempt to blink them back only served to flick them from her lashes and land in splotches against the parchment.
Three times she read the letter, trying desperately to discern the additional meaning couched within his words. Every instinct in her screamed that he cared. Perhaps more than he ever wished to admit.
She concentrated on one particular paragraph. He’d seen her with Mr. Netherborne? That day? Gazing affectionately?
Impossible.
Victor! It had to be. There was no other explanation. If Timothy knew, would such knowledge change anything he’d said in his letter?
New possibilities whispered seductive promises in her mind.
A soft knock on her door disrupted her fanciful musings.
“Cilla? It’s me.”
The door cracked a few inches, and Victor poked his head around the corner. One look at her, and he threw the door wide, marched to her side, and settled on the bed next to her. Eyes darting to the letter in her hands, he reached out. “May I?”
She hesitated but a moment before placing the missive in his waiting grasp. “Swear to me you’ll keep this secret.”
Pinning her with his gaze, he gave a curt nod, clearly unhappy with her demand.
Breath trapped in her lungs as she watched his eyes skim over the contents of the letter.
He stopped several times to look up with unvoiced questions. Silence stretched between them like a taut bowstring ready to snap.
