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It took several minutes for Freddie to get her tearing emotions under control. The dawn was breaking, and the servants should be stirring soon. Slipping from the bed, she made her way to her chamber.
Freddie tried to pull herself together and swiftly set to packing up some of her things. She did not even bother to call her maid to assist, but shoved clothes into a couple of suitcases and her favorite bonnets into hat boxes. Everything would be crumpled but she did not care, nothing really mattered if she could not have Percy. If he was such a piece of turd that he could spend the night making passionate, tender love to and then say he felt nothing for her.
There is no love between us.
The pain hooked inside her chest and pulled sharply. Then she was better off without him, her heart would mend eventually, at least she had her brother back, even if she had not yet got the story of where he had been out of him. But even with the joy of seeing Matthew, she felt devastated by Percy’s repudiation of her. Freddie finally finished with packing and wanted never to see Percy again, she needed to run far away to somewhere she could cry him out of her heart and mind.
Almost an hour later, she felt suitably presentable in a lime green day gown that flattered her figure rather becomingly. Her short curls were parted in the middle and held with a small, pearl studded comb from her face. Her brother needed to see her as a woman who made her own choices, choices that she would never regret. Frederica knew she would love back on her life years from now and could say, ‘I dared, and I lived.’
Even though she loved both of them dearly, neither her brother nor the marquess would make her regret living. She went down the stairs, her stomach too knotted to eat. Searching for the marquess, she found him with her brother in the fencing room. The men were grappling and grunting as they twisted and fought in a manner she had never seen before. It was raw and powerful.
Frederica had no time for their nonsense, fighting over her ruined honor when she did not feel ruined at all.
“Matthew,” she said, stepping into the room.
That made both men still, and they whipped around to face her. Percy gave her his most enigmatic look, and she suddenly realized she did not know him well enough to decipher his thoughts. The heavy pain in her heart grew.
No love between us. And he had said it in that cool, detached manner of his. The memory, only having passed over an hour ago, was intolerable to recall. Merely because she knew it to be the truth. The marquess was not in love with her and might never be.
She forced her gaze from him to the man beside her. Her brother looked the same with his tousled dark hair and vivid blue eyes, yet he was different with the bulk that now sat on his frame. A bulk of muscles as if he had been put to hard work. Matthew was so different to the Matthew she had been longing for. Those two years had changed him and now as she glanced at him, she could see he had a cut over one eye and that the eye was closing and turning black. His face was also bearded and seemed as if he had grown it that way for a long time. He was holding himself awkwardly, so she suspected the black eye was the least of his injuries from the way Percy and her brother had been hammering at each other. Frederica was decidedly startled. Matthew appeared…savage and not at all gentleman-like.
“Do I pass your inspection, Freddie,” he said gruffly.
With a sob, she rushed forward and flung herself into his arms. They hugged fiercely and for long moments. When they parted, she noted the marquess was no longer in the room. She suspected he had not wanted to intrude on their reunion.
“I do not understand, Matthew. How are you alive?” she wiped at her tears. “I am exceedingly overjoyed. But we all thought you died.”
He caught a lock of her hair, curled it around his fingers and tugged gently. “It is a long story, and one day I shall share it. I promise.”
In his eyes, she saw shadows of a remembered agony. Whenever he had been, his stay had been unpleasant. Perhaps painful. Emotions locked her throat. “Are you terribly hurt?”
“Nothing I won't heal from, Freddie, especially after I’ve had my vengeance.”
“That sounds perfectly ominous,” she whispered.
“Enough about me; we must prepare for your wedding.”
“I am not marrying the marquess, and I will discuss no further.”
“Freddie—”
She held up a hand to stay his protest. “I will only marry a man who loves me or has some measure of affection for me. By his own confession, the marquess does not love me or have any sentiments for me.” The words were difficult to get out without crying, and she had to pause and collect her composure. “The choices I made earlier are my own and do not lessen me for any future alliance. If you believe that, please find Sally Jenkins and do the honorable thing and marry her.”
Her brother’s jaw slackened at her firm tone, and that amazed expression pulled a light chuckle from her.
“What happened to my little Freddie?” he demanded.
“You died, and I had to grow up.”
He closed his eyes as if pained. When he held out his arms again, she simply walked into them and allowed him to hold her for a very long time.
“Take me away from here, Matthew. Today.”
“Done.”
