Wakefield Manor
Ten Years Ago…
T he library door felt impossibly heavy as Lily pushed it open, her hands clammy against the polished wood.
The room was quiet save for the gentle crackling of the fire. Thorn sat in the wingback chair, his back to the fire, his face swallowed up by the shadows. He didn’t look up when she entered, though she knew he must have heard her.
She took a few steps, stopping just before reaching the carpet, not daring to cross the imaginary threshold.
“What did he say to you last night?” Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears—too high, too breathless. “I didn’t dare come out of my room after he caught us. And today I’ve been walking on eggshells the entire day.” She twisted her hands in her skirt, hating how they trembled. “I hoped to talk to you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
Thorn finally looked up, and the hollow look in his eyes made her stomach clench. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his usually immaculate hair was disheveled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it all day.
“I know,” he said, his voice flat. “I needed to think.”
A cold dread washed over her. “About what?”
“Lily…” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests. “Now that Father found out, it’s… Things will have to change.”
Lily grew very still, afraid to even take a breath. “Change how?”
“We need to stop seeing each other.”
The words fell between them like an anvil. Lily’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow, the sound embarrassingly loud in the silent library. “For how long?”
His gaze dropped to his feet. The silence stretched between them, each second another tiny nick in her heart.
“That’s it, then?” Her voice cracked on the last word.
He stood sharply. “No, it’s not. I love you, you know that. But…” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
She stepped forward. “But what?”
“Father is…” Thorn paced to the window, looking out into the darkness. “He is talking to some men in Parliament. He wants to get me into diplomatic work… to send me off to the Iberian Peninsula or wherever else if the war is not over by the time I finish Cambridge.”
“Can he do that?” She walked over to him and reached out her hand, needing to feel his warmth and solidity—something to anchor herself against the rising tide of panic. But he stepped away, leaving her hand suspended in mid-air.
“He can do whatever he likes.” He finally met her gaze, and she wished he hadn’t. She could see defeat in them. He had given up.
“But you will be of age. You can refuse!” Her voice rose in tandem with her panic. “And what about our plans—the marriage?”
His shoulders slumped. “We will have to postpone that.”
The room seemed to tilt beneath her feet. He didn’t want to marry her anymore. Perhaps he never did.
“For how long?” she managed to ask.
His voice cracked. “T-two years.”
Two years away after college, which added up to three years of waiting. Her heart plummeted, although the pulse drummed loudly in her ears.
They stood there in silence, only a few feet apart, but Lily felt as if there was a gulf between them already.
“And what am I supposed to do for all this time?” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the roaring fire. Three years. Over one thousand days. It seemed like a lot. At the same time, it could be nothing if she was certain he’d return to her.
He didn’t answer.
“So, you agreed to this?”
“I have no choice!” he snapped.
“Yes, you do!”
“What should I do, then?” His voice rose even more, a vein pulsing at his temple. His face flushed with anger or anguish—she couldn’t tell which.
“Marry me. Right now.” The words rushed out before she could stop them. “We can elope.”
He looked away. And although he hadn’t spoken, no words were necessary to guess his answer.
“You will not do that, will you?” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.
He let out a defeated sigh. “I have to do what my father tells me, or he will disinherit me.”
“Since when did you start caring about that?” she asked sharply. “I thought you said love is enough.”
He grimaced, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “I don’t know if it is, Lily. I love you, and that will never change, but…” His voice faltered. “I am not ready to take on the world yet.”
Each word struck like a physical blow. Tears pricked behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Not even for me?”
“I am doing this for you!” His eyes flashed with sudden fervor. “If we marry, I will be left with nothing. No money, no place to stay, no job. We will be ostracized from society. We’ll have no friends or family, no support. I can’t…” His voice broke. “I can’t subject you to this life.”
A harsh laugh escaped her, surprising them both. “But you can subject me to this ?” She gestured around the room. “Being your maid and cleaning your clothes and your house while you’re off frolicking God knows where, doing God knows what with God knows whom for three whole years? Do you expect me to continue cleaning your house while you’re marrying someone else, too?”
“That would never happen.” He reached for her but stopped short. “I will come back and—”
“You are naive if you think that your father will ever let us get married.” Her voice was steady now, cold with certainty. “And you must think me an idiot if you think I will believe you will come back for me.”
“I will.” The anguish in his eyes almost made her believe him. Almost .
She looked away, unable to bear the sight of him any longer. “I am not certain I will still be here.”
He reached for her hand, desperation in every line of his body, but it was her turn to step away. The gold signet ring on his finger caught the firelight, a reminder of everything he was choosing over her. The ruby ring on her finger gave an answering glow.
You vowed to marry me.
She took another step, and another, her feet stumbling in haste as she fled from the library. Away from him.