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If he’d slapped me, it might have stung less than the utter devastation I heard in his voice. My pulse raced. His untamed behavior was much worse than his coolness. I now realized he’d been using it to cover up the depth of his own hurt. Thomas had finally lost his grip on his emotions and it seemed they were pouring out.
“Thomas…” I stared at the ceiling, searching for cracks or fissures. Surely it was about to come crashing down like everything else around me. “We’ve been through this. I cannot change the fact that I made mistakes during that investigation. I thought I could playact a certain role, and I lost myself in the process. Clearly it was the wrong decision. I am not perfect, nor have I ever claimed to be. All I can do is try my best to l
earn from my mistakes and grow.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” His voice was too quiet.
I dropped my attention back to him. He was staring at me intently. “Do you honestly wish to speak of Mephistopheles? Now?”
He jerked his head in what was supposed to be a nod. “Why would you toss away society’s rules for him and not me?”
I exhaled. He was hurt and I’d helped to inflict this wound. I wished there wasn’t such a gaping chasm between us. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms and kiss his fears away. And I wanted him to hold me close, too, to make me forget the pain and misery of the last twenty-four hours. But those were not appropriate actions for us now. I needed to remember that.
Even if it went against every natural urge in my body.
“You know I never truly considered Mephistopheles as a suitor. It was never him that I’d been taken with. It was the idea of completely living outside of society. Tossing each rule and restriction in the rubbish bin and living life on my terms and my terms alone. Sure, he might have been the one who introduced me to that idea, but I’m afraid you and I are forever going to relive that week. Mephistopheles didn’t almost win my heart. He wasn’t so clever and beautiful and mysterious enough to entice me away from you. If you want the whole truth, I was afraid of the kernel of doubt in my heart. I was terrified that I might not ever be good enough for you. You’re so sure of us and have had romantic experience—”
“I’ve had no experience where love is concerned, Wadsworth.”
“Oh?” I raised a brow. “Miss Whitehall simply sprang forth from our imaginations, waving that betrothal agreement about?” I sighed as his shoulders slumped. We were not mending our broken hearts this way. “The truth is, yes, he was able to use my naïveté against me. Until recently, I’ve lived a terribly sheltered life—I had no friends aside from Liza. You were the only young man I’d ever spoken to apart from my brother. I’m still learning about myself. While I was playing that role, trying to garner information about the murderer, I… it was the first time I’d made other friends. People outside of my tiny little part of the world. They liked science and they danced without a care, and they were so extraordinarily free. A part of me wanted to be like them. Even if it was a lie and it made a mess of things. I wanted to forget about who everyone wanted or expected me to be. I’m dreadfully sorry you were hurt in the process.”
He glanced up sharply. “You are free to choose; I’ve always said—”
“Yes, yes.” I waved my hand about. “You’ve always said. My father’s always said. Uncle has always said.” Unable to meet his gaze directly, I stared down at my hand, realizing I hadn’t yet returned his family ring. I stopped looking at it and focused on Thomas again. “It’s one thing for others to tell you what’s best, but without experience of your own?” I shook my head. “I am not perfect, nor will I ever aspire to be. Flaws are what build character. They make us more human. More—”
“Susceptible to heartbreak?”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true.” I met his gaze full on. “If I lived out the rest of my days worrying about perfection or achieving The Angel in the House standard of what women ought to be—that is a cage I will not set myself in. I’m sorry I hurt you, Thomas. I cannot apologize enough for my doubt, momentary though it might have been. But my struggle was always between what life I wanted for myself, not which man I wanted to spend it with. You accuse Mephistopheles of manipulation, and you’re not wrong. He never pretended his bargains weren’t in his favor. He told me directly he is an opportunist. I knew that. He is flawed, but show me a person who isn’t. My hope for him is to learn his own lesson in the future. He’s scared of being vulnerable; I should think you know a thing or two about that.”
“What of my offer of living outside society with me?”
“I decline your offer because there is another who is officially committed to be your wife, Thomas. Were you unattached, and if it wouldn’t harm our families, I might consider living our life however we wanted to live it. No rules. No society terms. Just you and me. I would take you without a ring or a home or any document declaring you were mine. That is not the situation we find ourselves in at present. And that is the only reason your brand of debauchery doesn’t suit me. No matter how hard he tried wooing me, I never pursued a courtship with Mephistopheles. It’s always been you for me, even when I didn’t know who I was anymore. It will always be you, Thomas. No matter who tries to come between us. You are my heart. No one can take it.”
Thomas gazed at me for a moment, then dropped into a chair, his head in his hands. “I despise this.”
“It’s a horrid situation, I know. But we will get through it. We have to.”
“No, no.” Thomas glanced up. “I despise being the one having an emotional dilemma. It’s much more enjoyable being the one consoling you. You haven’t even offered to let me sit on your lap. You’re terrible at this.”
We tentatively smiled at each other. Our grins were both gone as quickly as they’d come, but it was a start. As sick as it made me to think of beginning anew with Thomas Cresswell.
“Well.” I searched for something else to do or say in the awkward silence. The curious part of me that always seemed to win could no longer contain itself. “What did you do today?”
He assessed me from head to toe, paying careful attention to my face. I knew he was studying every miniature movement and plucking apart my emotions. His own impenetrable mask was back in place. I hoped I appeared strong enough to withstand whatever he said. The slight frown he let slip made me think otherwise. “I… I did pay a visit to Miss Whitehall—”
“All right.” I abruptly held up a hand. He closed his mouth, his expression strained. “Please. I don’t mean to be rude, but I feel a little ill. I-I can’t hear about this now or I may vomit. It’s too much.”
Thomas’s attention strayed to my stomach, a line of worry creasing his brow.
For the love of the queen, I was not with child. My ever-vigilant cousin had been making me drink those herbal blends for weeks. Well before Thomas and I had consummated our—I exhaled. We needed to find another pursuit.
“Would you… I’m going to study Nathaniel’s journals. You’re welcome to join.” I looked up in time to notice him wince. “If you’d like.”
He tapped an anxious rhythm on his thigh while he considered. Finally, he dragged his chair closer and pulled a journal in front of himself. He might jest about my curiosity, but his was equally piqued. A tiny sense of relief blossomed. Things were easier between us when we had a mystery to solve.
“Le bon Dieu est dans le détail,” he said, his tone reverent. At my knitted brow, he amended, “Flaubert.”
“I meant the sentence, Cresswell.” Unable to help myself, I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Thomas to quote the author of Madame Bovary—in French—at a time such as this. His theatrics truly knew no bounds. “‘The “God” is in the detail’ ought to be shifted to the ‘devil.’”
