Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Theo kissed her.
And it was everything she had ever hoped for. Warm and sure, the press of his lips made the world fall away. The sea, the wagon, the salt on the air—all vanished beneath the slow miracle of his mouth on hers.
She had dreamed of such a kiss. But never like this.
When he finally drew back, he rested his forehead lightly against hers. “You are,” he said, just above a whisper, “more than I imagined. And infinitely more than I deserve.”
Her breath caught. “Don’t say that.”
He smiled faintly, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “Then allow me to amend it—you are extraordinary, and I am the very fortunate man who may kiss you again.”
Her lips curved. “That was nearly poetic, Theo.”
“You inspire better words in me than I knew I possessed.”
He kissed her again, softer this time. She smiled into it, her heart fluttering like a schoolgirl’s.
I did not expect to feel like this.
“You ought to know,” he said when they parted, “you’ve just ruined me for any other moment in the day.”
“Good,” she said. “I was aiming for devastation.”
They exchanged another lingering kiss, laughter brushing between them, and April leaned against him, content to be held. His arms closed around her as the wagon swayed gently toward shore.
By the time the wheels crunched back over sand, he had drawn her into his lap, and she felt nothing but safe. The sea, vast and terrible, no longer loomed so large.
When they stepped down from the wagon, she clutched his arm. “I did it,” she said, almost in wonder. “I entered the water.”
He looked down at her, pride in every line of his face. “You were magnificent.”
“I want to try the pond next.”
“Ambitious. Reckless. Perfect.” He laughed, and April had never seen a more handsome man in her life.
“I’m serious, Theo.”
“I know you are.” He smiled. “And I cannot wait to see it.”
As they changed with their backs turned. April’s fingers trembled slightly at the laces of her stays. Her thoughts were loud now. That kiss—it changed something. Didn’t it? Surely, he felt it too.
She turned just as he adjusted his coat. “Come.” Theo took her hand, and they alighted from the wagon.
“We should visit Brighton often,” she said, reveling in the feel of her hand in his.
“We should travel all over England,” Theo replied. “The lakes, the moors, the peaks—and when that no longer satisfies, the continent. Even the Colonies if you wish.”
April grinned. Not at the promise of travel but at the way he looked at her—as though she was already beside him in every place he mentioned. His eyes drifted to her mouth, the memory of their kiss crackling back to life.
Will we speak of it? she wondered. Will we say what it meant? But before either of them could speak, laughter exploded outside.
“There you are!” May’s voice rang out as she darted into the wagon, bonnet askew. “You will not believe how June reacted—”
“I did not shriek!” June followed, cheeks flushed. “It was an exclamation.”
“It was a horrid noise,” May said. “You startled a gull.”
April blinked, and Theo calmly adjusted his cravat, looking faintly amused.
“Well, how was the water?” May turned to April. “Was it not exhilarating?”
April glanced at Theo. He gave a slight shake of his head. “I found it… unforgettable,” she replied, a smile blooming. “Truly unforgettable.”
And perhaps the beginning of everything I did not dare to hope for.
“You do realize,” said June, casting a pointed glance toward the window, “that staring at the sea will not teach it manners.”
April didn’t turn. She stood with her hands resting lightly on the windowsill, the sea glinting under the moonlight like spilt silver. “It might,” she said, smiling faintly. “With the proper audience.”
May sighed behind her. “You’re different tonight.”
“Am I?”
June leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs out with a groan. “You are. There’s something about you this evening. Some air of mystery, perhaps. A touch of mischief. And not even a whisper of your usual restraint.”
May nodded thoughtfully. “Indeed. You’re glowing. And don’t try to pretend it’s the moonlight.”
April finally looked at them, lips curving. “Well, I suppose I am feeling rather—alive.”
“That much is clear,” observed May, propping her chin on her hand. “Meanwhile, I am wilting under the attention of every dull gentleman who thinks speaking about phaetons and curricles is the height of courtship.”
June groaned. “If I hear one more opinion about boot polish or tobacco, I shall scream. I swear half the men at Lady Tinsley’s garden party yesterday thought I would be impressed by their new cravats. One even compared the folds to Roman architecture.”
“Roman architecture,” May repeated, making a face. “Heavens. Did he expect you to marry him on the spot?”
“I nearly buried myself in the shrubbery.”
They laughed, the sound light and familiar, but April only half heard them. Her eyes had wandered back to the window.
May tilted her head. “You’re not listening.”
“I am. Truly. I just… I think I needed the sea. And perhaps the silence that comes with it.”
June studied her closely. “You never used to like the sea. You used to say it felt like staring into the mouth of something you could never understand.”
“I know. But tonight, it feels different. I feel different.”
“You do,” May said, suddenly serious. “It’s as though something shifted. Did it?”
April hesitated, feeling the answer bloom in her chest. “Perhaps I’m learning not to fear the things I used to.”
June raised a brow. “Is this about Theo?”
“It is, isn’t it?” May added before April could reply. “Oh, April.”
April smiled again, faintly, and turned her gaze back to the sea. She caught the movement almost immediately. A figure, tall and deliberate, slipping from the inn’s side door and heading toward the sand. Theo.
Her breath quickened.
“I need some air,” she said, already moving toward him.
“Don’t fall in!” May called after her.
The wind had quieted. The moon was a full coin in the sky, casting light that turned the beach into a world of shadows and glimmer. April walked swiftly, heart beating with a strange, fierce energy.
I was not afraid of the sea. I kissed him. I laughed with him. I can do anything tonight. Even follow him into the dark.
The air tasted of salt and freedom. The sand gave under her shoes as she reached the edge of the dunes. Theo was ahead, shirt discarded, boots off. He stood ankle-deep in the tide, his breeches rolled, his chest bare under the moonlight.
April stilled. Her breath hitched. Oh.
The moon left very little to the imagination.
Muscles shifted as he moved, all long lines and effortless strength.
The water curled around his feet, and his skin gleamed where the spray had kissed it.
His hair was windswept, his expression remote, but even from this distance she could see the lines of tension carved into his shoulders.
She should look away. She should, but her eyes lingered. And then she reached into her sleeve and pulled out the handkerchief she had made him. It is time he answers my questions.
As she walked toward him, the memory grew more vivid:
April sat near the hearth, a bit apart from the others. May and June were sprawled across the carpet, tangled in a game of cat’s cradle and shouting nonsense at each other. The fire crackled. Shadows danced across the walls.
“April, come play,” May had called, holding out a loop of thread.
“Not now,” April said, her needle poised carefully. “I’m embroidering.”
June looked up, frowning. “Since when do you care about embroidery?”
“Since now,” April replied, focused, her tongue between her teeth. The linen was rough beneath her fingers, but she liked the feeling. She wanted this to be perfect.
The drawing room door opened. Dorothy swept in, brisk as always. “What is this? April, why are you not playing?”
“I’m practicing,” April said, lifting the square of linen. “See?”
Her mother took it, brows lifting. “Hm. That’s quite decent, actually. The stitches are a little crooked but well defined.”
“I want it to be good,” April said, trying not to sound too eager. “I’m making it for someone.”
Outside, through the tall windows, two figures walked across the snowy lawn.
August, laughing, and beside him, Theo. The wind flushed their cheeks pink.
Theo had a new coat, navy blue and thick, better than the worn one he’d arrived in.
He looked warmer. Safer. Less like the haunted boy who had first arrived and more like someone settling into the warmth of a real home.
April stared a long moment. Then she reached for her pencil and lightly sketched the letters T and R into the corner of the cloth.
She would stitch them in blue. Deep blue. The exact shade of his eyes.
Back in the present, April stepped closer to the tide.
“Theo,” she called softly, her voice nearly lost to the hush of the waves.
He turned, surprised. The moonlight touched his face, outlining the sharp line of his jaw, the softness in his eyes. The sea lapped at his ankles. He did not speak, but he waited.
She moved to him, one careful step at a time, until they stood only a pace apart. “Do you remember this?” she asked, unfolding the handkerchief from her palm.
His gaze dropped to it. He blinked, slowly. “That is mine, April.”
The words sent a thrill through her. “Why did you keep it all these years?”
He hesitated. The question seemed to weigh heavily on his shoulders. She could see his chest rise, the clench of his jaw, the twitch of muscle at his neck where his pulse beat visibly.
“I…”
She took another step and reached up, her fingers brushing lightly against that pulse. The heat of his skin, the strength beneath it, stole her breath.
Her hand drifted lower, across the center of his chest, to where his heart beat steadily.
“You don’t have to say it,” she said quietly. “I think I know. Because I think… I think I’m feeling it too.”
He looked at her then, truly looked, as if seeing through all her defenses. And still, he said nothing, but she saw the truth in his eyes.
April leaned in and kissed him. Not with the heat and urgency of their kiss in the wagon but softly, reverently. Her heart was wide open.
“I won’t push,” she said when their lips parted. “I know it isn’t easy for you. But I can’t pretend not to feel it. Not anymore.”
He wrapped his arms around her in a single, encompassing motion and kissed her again—thoroughly, unreservedly. When he pulled back, he kept her close, forehead resting against hers.
“Our marriage cannot be in name only. Not now.”
She gave a trembling smile. “That was merely a formality. We must face the inevitability of truly being husband and wife.”
He chuckled, low in his throat, and drew her to a rock nestled in the sand, half-shadowed by the dunes. They sat close, hands still joined.
After a moment, she asked, “Loretta tells me there was once something between you.”
He exhaled, half amused. “Loretta dreams more than she breathes.”
April turned to him, uncertain. “She approached me. She said your attentions don’t last. That I was no match for what she once had with you.”
She hesitated, the words heavier than she’d expected. “And I know I may not compare, but I wanted to try.”
Theo laughed, sudden and unguarded.
April stood, heart stinging. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“April, wait—”
“You laughed. I shared something true, and you laughed.”
He caught her hand before she could turn away. “You misunderstood. I laughed because it’s absurd. Not you. The idea that anyone could measure up to you. Loretta least of all.”
April blinked. “You’re not just saying that to spare my feelings.”
“I never even liked her. Aunt Eugenia was fond of her, and so I tolerated her company. That is all. She always wanted the title, not me. When she realized she wouldn’t get it, she turned her sights to Gregory.
I don’t know why she accepted him so quickly, but he was hopelessly in love with her. He still is.”
April looked away, watching the waves catch the moonlight.
“She has something against me,” she said quietly. “I can’t prove it. Not yet, but I know it.”
He frowned. “Then I’ll—”
“No,” she interrupted. “Not until I know for certain. You would act, and she would see it coming. I need time.”
Theo studied her then nodded. “Whatever you need, I’ll follow your lead.”
She turned back to him, heart full. “That Christmas morning, do you remember what I said when I gave you the handkerchief?”
He smiled, slowly. “You said, ‘I thought if St. Nicholas doesn’t know you’re here, he might forget you, and you should have something to open, just in case.”
April laughed softly. “I truly believed that.”
“It was the kindest thing anyone had done for me in years. I think, on some level… I knew.”
She tilted her head. “Knew what?”
He brushed a thumb across her cheek. “That you were meant to be mine. And no one else would ever do.”
April’s breath caught. She felt the tears come before she could stop them.
Theo wiped them gently. “Now, will you walk with me along the shore? I was planning to swim, but I find I prefer your company.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
They walked together, the tide curling around their feet. April let the water touch her, let it run over her ankles.
It’s only the sea, she thought. And I am not alone.
With Theo beside her, each step forward felt like another fear set behind.