Chapter 23
For a moment, Thea could only stare at him, the words echoing in her ears as though they’d come from far away.
It didn’t make sense. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat, and the world narrowed as the sounds of the summer day dulled to a faint, distant hum; even the wind through the trees felt muffled, as though the air itself refused to intrude on the moment.
Thea’s fingers remained curled around his hand, but Frederick had gone utterly still beneath her touch. Her lips parted, but no words emerged. There was only that aching, impossible silence stretching between them, heavy and fragile as glass.
“Because of this?” she asked, blinking like a newborn babe seeing the sun for the first time.
“I understand why you felt obligated to end our courtship because of your… I hate to call them ‘reduced circumstances,’ for I certainly do not think you any lesser for what your father did, but regardless of what others deem it, nothing has changed—”
“Everything has changed. Everything.”
Thea’s breath fled her lungs, and her heart squeezed tight as she forced herself to ask, “You no longer love me?”
Jerking back, Frederick’s expression mirrored her own. “I said nothing of the sort.”
It felt as though someone had cut the twine twisted around her heart, allowing it to fully beat once more. Thank the heavens.
“My circumstances have changed. Fundamentally so,” he clarified. “I cannot marry you—”
“Nonsense,” said Thea, her nose wrinkling. “It will be difficult, to be certain, but if not for your father’s passing, we would be married, and just as I would not abandon you in those circumstances, I will not abandon you now. For richer or poorer and all.”
Frederick huffed. “This isn’t the same, and you know it. Marriage is irrevocable. We are not even engaged.”
“All but.”
“That is an important distinction. There is a world of difference between a couple who wish to exchange vows and those who have. You have nothing binding you to me, and I will not allow you to be thrown into the mess my father created.”
Good gracious, the fool was stubborn. Frederick wasn’t the sort to get in a temper, but even the sunniest of temperaments stormed about at times, and it was clear from the set of his jaw and the hardness in his eyes that he was determined.
Yet he had not released her hand, and Thea clung to that reassurance.
If she proceeded with caution, they could settle this situation to everyone’s benefit and end this nonsense. Of course, telling him this was “nonsense” was the precise thing Thea was attempting to avoid—no matter how much that word bounced about her thoughts.
She must keep hold of her tongue.
Though that would be easier if the gentleman weren’t so very good at vexing her.
“I understand this is troubling,” said Thea, holding fast to him. “You and your family have suffered greatly of late, and I know that is bound to cloud matters, but I love you, Frederick Voss. I wish to marry you—not your home or your income.”
“But a man cannot marry without either.”
Drawing in a breath, Thea allowed herself a moment to consider her words. “True, but you forget that I am a lady of means.”
Frederick stiffened, jerking his hand free and rising to his feet. “Do not be ridiculous, Thea.”
“Do not be pigheaded, Frederick,” she said, shifting to stand, and before she could move, Frederick’s hand was there, helping her, which was both heartwarming and infuriating at the same time.
Standing before him, Thea faced him down. “You may be stubborn at times and vexing at others, but I know you, Frederick. You are not one of those fools who begrudge financial assistance from his wife.”
“I’ve seen enough fortune hunters of late to know many men do not care one jot about using their wife’s money,” grumbled Frederick. “But it will do no good, Thea. Even with your dowry, we cannot save Dunsby Hall.”
“Then we become tradesmen, and my dowry will set us up until the business is solvent.”
*
We. Such a little word. Two tiny letters. A meaningless thing that people tossed about with hardly a thought, yet that single syllable hit him harder than any declaration of love.
For months now, his world had been nothing but “I” or “you.” It was on Frederick to settle the accounts.
To sell the house. To find a way to feed his family.
Every burden, every failure, every desperate plan had rested squarely on his shoulders.
Yet Thea said “we” as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Claiming his struggles as her own without hesitation.
And that quiet certainty she exuded cracked open something in him.
It was like the first rays of sunlight filtering into a room that had been shut up for far too long, and for the first time in what felt like years, Frederick didn’t feel utterly alone.
For one dangerous instant, he let himself imagine them together, facing whatever storms came, side by side instead of apart.
It would be hard, yes, but together it would be bearable.
But the vision shattered like glass against stone.
Thea spoke as though entering trade were a simple thing, ignoring the price it would exact upon her and her family.
How quickly the people she claimed as friends would turn their backs on her.
How slow the others in their new society would accept them.
The Vosses would belong to neither class—alone and isolated.
And that dowry she believed would be their saving grace would never materialize.
If his previous conversations with Mr. Keats were any indication, the gentleman would not give his blessing (verbal or monetary) if she married against his wishes; Thea may have attained her majority, but that did not mean a child was free to choose, and her father would do everything in his power to see the match ended.
But Frederick couldn’t tell her that. To do so would set Thea against her father and plant seeds of bitterness in her heart.
No, he simply had to remain strong in the face of such a lovely temptation. But for one brief, shining moment, Frederick pretended that Thea was right. That they had a future together and would spend their lives at one another’s side, never to be separated.
Then the fantasy crumbled before his eyes.
*
For all that Frederick had gone silent, Thea saw the way his mind churned. Though she didn’t understand his hesitation, she took it as a good sign that he wasn’t dismissing her or resorting to a jest or two as he was wont to do. Thea couldn’t look away from him.
Oh, how she loved him. The way he stood, so proud and steady even in the face of ruin, the strength written in every line of him. The weight he bore would’ve broken another man, yet he carried it all alone, not out of vanity but love.
And the longer he stood there, lost in thought, the more Thea was certain he saw it too: they were meant to face this together. Hope swelled until she could hardly breathe. If he would only lift his eyes—only say her name—she could feel it, know it. Everything would be right again.
“You do not know what you are suggesting,” murmured Frederick.
“You do not think I understand what a change it would be? I am not simple.”
Frederick huffed. “I did not mean that.”
“No, you simply think I cannot comprehend that being a tradesman’s wife is different from being a gentleman’s daughter.”
“You are allowing your feelings to cloud your judgment,” said Frederick, frowning. “It isn’t just that things would be more difficult. It will mean giving up everything you know—”
“For something far better!” said Thea, reaching for his hand, but he pulled out of reach as he babbled reasons that were as ridiculous and unimportant as all the rest. What did she care about society’s opinions?
And if her friends turned on her, they would only prove that they weren’t friends at all.
And surely, Thea could learn economy. She was no simpleton.
Frederick continued to ramble on, and her mind raced ahead, crafting rebuttals faster than he could form his arguments.
Every protest that fell from his lips—comfort, reputation, security—Thea was ready to strike down.
None of that mattered. How could it when the alternative was losing him?
Frederick had called her blind, but it was he who refused to see, and she would make him; she simply needed to find the right words to force a bit of logic into his stubborn brain.
Thea’s pulse beat hard in her throat as her temper rose, her cheeks warming with each new protest he gave. She barely noticed when her voice began to sharpen, the quiet pleading tone slipping away in favor of something fiercer, steadier. She would convince him. She had to.
“I am not speaking of little changes, Thea!”
But before he placed the punctuation on his statement, she swept in, “I am not a fool, Frederick. I know it will be difficult, but this isn’t impossible. Others have made do on less—”
“I am not going to allow you to ‘make do.’”
“That is not your decision!”
“Unless you are going to tie me up and drag me to the altar, it is,” said Frederick, a thread of mockery weaving into his tone.
Round and round they went, treading on paths already trod. Repeating her arguments again and again as though this time—yes, this time!—Frederick would see sense and surrender. But his words grew sharper and stronger with each repetition.
Frederick’s voice rose, not in a shout but with that terrible firmness that left no room for compromise, no chink through which she might slip her reasoning.
The argument spun faster and faster, its rhythm turning from words to weapons, both of them striking and parrying in equal measure.
Thea tried to sound calm and lace her tone with that sweet steadiness that might soften his temper, but her voice ran away with her as time marched on with no ground gained.
Frederick wasn’t listening! She saw it in the set of his jaw and the hard line of his mouth as every argument she mounted was batted aside.
But the last little voice of reason that warned her to maintain control was drowned beneath the chorus of worries that rang in her mind, and Thea felt herself unraveling. Her hands trembled; her breaths came too quick, too shallow. Logic gave way to desperation, and still she pressed on.
To walk away would be to lose him. To remain silent would be to accept his decision. And either meant a future without him.
Thea’s words spilled out faster, her gestures sharper, her voice rising and falling with the frantic rhythm of her thoughts.
Frederick’s face grew darker, his stance more rigid, the calm self-control she once admired turning into something impenetrable.
The distance between them—barely a step—felt like an impossible gulf.
Tears gathered, but she held them at bay, refusing to give way to the darkness swelling inside her.
Snatching his hand in hers, Thea pulled him closer. “Please, Frederick. Please do not do this. We love each other. We can sort this out. I promise.”
“There is nothing to sort out—”
“Please!” Reaching forward, she rested her hand on his cheek, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I do not care if I have to beg and plead. To prostrate myself before you or anyone else. I love you, and nothing is as important as our future.”
His gaze flickered, the steel in it softening by degrees, and Thea’s breath caught.
There it was! That faint mist rising in his blue-grey eyes.
A crack in his resolve. For one suspended heartbeat, the world stilled as though even the birds in the air and the insects in the grass waited to hear his answer.
The push and pull of love and duty was written across his face, and Thea prayed he would see sense. The muscle in his jaw jumped, his lips parted, but no words came. And in that silence, she knew she was reaching him.
The ache in her chest eased, replaced by a fragile, desperate hope, and her thumb caressed his cheek as she’d done so many times before.
His breath hitched, and Thea’s heart leapt.
Frederick felt it too. Their love. This rightness between them.
The impossible pull that bound them together, no matter the obstacles that lay before them.
“Please.” The word was little more than a breath as her lips brushed his.
*
A shiver ran down his spine, settling into his heart as his pulse quickened.
Frederick felt her breath on his skin. Felt her warmth seeping into him.
And though the few remnant bits of sense left in his head knew he ought to step away, Frederick couldn’t when she closed the distance.
Thea’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush, and it was as though his body was possessed, moving of its own accord as his arms followed suit, securing her to him.
This embrace wasn’t a moment of passion or haste, though he felt both in equal measure.
It was a homecoming. Thea fit against him as though she’d been made to steady him when the world tilted, and her touch shone light into his life when everything was shrouded in darkness.
Frederick’s heart swelled with all the love he felt for this woman—not some flickering affection of youth, but the scorching embers of a genuine love and connection.
His match. The woman he would love until his dying breath. That was what Thea did not understand.
Love wasn’t the issue.
It was the reason he needed to be strong.