Chapter Forty-One
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
T HE DETAILS OF THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY WERE IRONED OUT EASILY enough.
That night, Thomas would propose to Constance. They would exchange vows tomorrow afternoon during The Empire’s grand opening. What better way to drum up press, Alban no doubt thought, than for the pleasure palace’s owner to be lawfully wed onstage in front of God and all his twisted little subjects? Constance would then move into Thomas’s house, and he and her father would begin the intertwining of their businesses early Monday morning. A honeymoon across Europe would be delayed until the summer, naturally.
Such a neat and tidy coffin Thomas prepared for himself.
He did not mention the ring in his pocket. He would not be giving it to Constance. When the subject of a band was brought up, Thomas suggested Mr. Alban find some family treasure in their stores for that purpose. The older man happily agreed.
Considering a formal proposal was not necessary, Alban left to give his daughter the good news—and inform Edward Langmore that his attentions would no longer be endured.
As soon as Alban disappeared through the brass-plated doors, Thomas caught his reflection in the polished metal. He revolted at the sight. Vomit rose up the back of his throat. He heaved. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t—he couldn’t—he couldn’t—
He had to.
“Thomas?” Dr. Andrew Samson’s voice reached him. Arms hauled him up from where he trembled, doubled over. “Thomas, what’s wrong? Are you quite alright—”
“No.”
Andrew blinked. Thomas collapsed onto a bench.
“What’s happened?”
“I’m to be married.”
“I suppose it’s not to Evelyn.”
Even saying the words aloud scalded his throat. “No. Constance Alban.”
“I see. That’s why he was here.”
“Yes.”
“And you … You agreed?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
Andrew scoffed. “Of course you have a choice. You don’t have to marry anyone. There’s no law binding you to her just because her father wants it.”
“He’s threatened Evelyn.”
“You could protect her.”
“Not against this. He’s … discovered something about me. If it gets out, we’re all ruined. My own ruination, I could stand. But if I don’t give him what he wants … you all will go down with me. And I couldn’t live with myself knowing—knowing—”
He choked again. Damn it. He cared about them. Even the ones who hated him, like Jules and Beatrice. And now, he had to sacrifice everything for them. Maybe he would light himself and The Empire on fire if it meant being with Evelyn, but he would not pull her, or Andrew, or any of the rest into the flames just to secure his own happiness. This had to be done. He was the only one who could protect them all.
“Fight him, then,” Andrew encouraged. “Stop him.”
“I can’t. I’m not strong enough. Not powerful enough. A lifetime of fighting and I’m exactly as helpless as I was—”
“When you were …?”
As I was when my parents died. When my name was stolen from me as a child. When my fake life was ripped away from me as a young man. When I was abandoned by everyone I knew and cared about and cast away, never to return home again.
Only—he wasn’t helpless, was he? He had strength and power enough to do this. To save the woman he loved and all those they cared about. That was something. He would hold on to that.
“When you were what, Thomas?” Andrew repeated.
He turned to stone. A gift to himself—returning to his old ways, his old self, his old costume. It was the only way to keep from breaking down.
“Never mind that. I have made my choice. I must now get on with living it.”
“You don’t have to—”
Thomas snorted in a sharp breath, trying to shock his body into working properly again. “Dr. Samson, you once told me you do not have the medical capabilities required to fix a broken heart. Do not exceed your mandate by attempting it.”
The clock on the wall ticked—too loud and too long.
“What will you do now, then?”
“I will get married. But first, I must write a letter to Miss Cross.”
No more protests or speeches from Andrew. For that, Thomas was grateful.
“What will you tell her?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
“It’s over.”
It was all over.