Chapter 29
By the time he made it back to Wescott’s residence, Theo’s emotions were broiling.
He paused in the foyer, deliberating. His heart urged him to confront Wescott now, while Maria Grey’s words were still fresh in his mind.
He only had one life. Was he going to throw it away because someone else had decided it for him?
But the logical, cooler part of his mind advised him to calm down first. Sleep it over, think it through. He’d have to be diplomatic when he talked to Wescott, not reckless.
Yes. Sleep first—if he could get any of that. But before he moved, something rustled in the dark, and the flame of an oil lamp burst into existence, highlighting Cass’s face.
“Leon?” She made a step out of the parlor. “Oh, it is you. How was the ball?”
He looked from the staircase—inviting him to ascend and surrender to his dreams first—to his fiancée. “Can we talk?”
“Now?”
“I think so.”
Cass lightly scoffed at his choice of words and waved toward the parlor with the lamp. “Come, then.”
They sat down next to each other, and she put the lamp on the side table. “What’s wrong?”
He wrung his hands, looking at the carpet-covered floor.
His emotions mixed and mingled inside of him, leading to a woozy nausea.
Somehow, he felt he was wronging Cass by admitting his love to Emmeline; but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d finally done something right, too.
“I can’t marry you. You know—” he raised his eyes to her.
“You know I care for you. As a cousin, a friend, would.”
“And so do I,” Cass said. “It could be much worse, couldn’t it?”
“But it could also be better.” He turned to her. “Don’t you wish that for yourself? We might be amicable to each other, but do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me? Because I—”
“You’re in love with someone else.” Cass pursed her lips. “Poor choice of words. It would imply there was something between us to begin with. But it’s still true, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Who is she—no, wait. The black-haired stranger. Miss Marshall. I should’ve known.”
“Do you hate me for it?”
“For falling in love? How could I? It’s the most wonderful thing that can happen to a person. Besides, she seems good for you.” She smiled. “I like how she fakes her fainting. Very clever.”
He laughed. “I shouldn’t explain what that was all about.”
“No, you shouldn’t. Let us keep our secrets.”
They pondered their situation in silence for a moment.
“I don’t want to be ungrateful,” Theo said. “For everything your family has done for me.”
“You’re not. You’re right.”
“Then you’ll allow me to go talk to your father?”
She paused, picking at a non-existent speck on her skirt. He thought his mind was made up, but he forgot about one very important aspect—Cass, herself. Wescott had put her in almost the same position as him, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
If she said no …
“Go,” Cass said, raising her eyes. “But I’ll go with you.”
“I can talk to him …”
“I also need to talk to him.”
Theo stood up, inspecting her. She locked her jaw and lifted her chin, eyes shining in determination.
“You’re in the same position.” He kneeled. “Who is he, if you don’t mind saying?”
Cass let out a bubble of sad laughter. “The last person Papa would approve of.”
A servant? No, that seemed unlikely for Cass. Another working man? Or simply someone without a title? There wasn’t a special reason Theo wanted to know, other than resolving the puzzle provided a welcome distraction.
Who would Wescott hate the most? Perhaps the clue wasn’t in generalness, but in specificity.
He might not care for lower-ranking people, but he didn’t hate them.
Unfortunately, Theo knew very little of Wescott or his acquaintances and enemies.
The most about him he’d actually learned today, from Maria.
From two best friends, two mortal enemies were born.
“Lord Farenham,” he said.
Cass patted his hand, confirming his solution. “Daniel.” She said his name in the same dreamlike way Theo would repeat Emmeline’s name in his head.
“Does your father know?”
She nodded. “I know how to play Papa’s obedient servant, too. But it’s time we both stopped being that.”
“I can still go talk to him alone. Only tell him about my problem. Once he’s calmed down …”
“No. We’ll help each other.” She grabbed his hand and stood. “We deserve that, don’t you think?”
And so they went, through the silent and dark house, to Wescott’s study, where a line of light still shone from under the door. Theo knocked, and upon their summons, they entered.
“Leon,” Wescott greeted with a raised eyebrow. “Cassie. You’re not in bed yet?”
“We need to talk to you.” Theo shared a confirmatory glance with Cass before he continued. “It’s about the wedding.”
“We’re not moving the date. The announcement is already being planned for the newspapers—”
“I’m not marrying your daughter,” Theo cut in.
For a long and absolutely terrifying moment, Wescott was completely still. Then he leaned forward, angling his head like a predator. “What?”
“We’re not marrying, Papa,” Cass said. “I’m—”
“I’m in love with someone else,” Theo said.
Wescott was silent at first; then, he banged his fists on the table and cackled. “Love? You’re in love?” Still laughing, he rose and circled around the desk, approaching them. “You silly boy. You don’t know what you’re feeling.”
“I—” Theo started.
“No, no, I see how it is. You saw a pretty girl somewhere. You’re not married yet, and I understand—men have their needs. I will turn a blind eye to it, but only until the vows are said.”
“Papa!” Cass cut in, but he shushed her by raising a finger.
“So go,” he said to Theo, nearly spitting. “Do your chasing. Take what you need from her. Have your fun—”
Theo grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pushed him back, straight into a wall, a nearby painting shaking from the impact. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that!”
“Are you insane?”
“No.” Theo let him go and, chest heaving, moved a few steps back. “If anything, I finally am sane.”
“You do not defy me.” Enunciating each word, Wescott fixed his cravat and cracked his neck. “I created you. I own you!”
“You own my knowledge. My clothes, the bed I sleep in,” Theo said. “But you don’t own me.”
“Papa, listen to him. To us,” Cass said, as redness crept into Wescott’s face.
“Everything I can, I’ll pay back to you,” Theo said. “In work, in money—I can give you anything except my life.”
“Your life is the one thing I need!” Wescott lunged at Theo, but Cass jumped in, trying to interpose herself between them.
“Stop! Papa, please!”
Growling, Wescott stepped back, a second away from steam blowing out of his ears. “Leave,” he bit at Theo. “Get out. I don’t want to see you in this house or around my family.”
Theo looked at Cass, who nodded in reassurance. He’d only aggravate Wescott further; he’d be calmer with his daughter, and she could take it from here. Perhaps, with her side of the story added to Theo’s, Wescott would finally understand.
He only started shaking as he left: his hands first, then his legs, and he sped up into a march as if that could help him shake out the adrenaline. He’d done it. Messy and incomplete, but successful.
He was free.
***
Emmeline was floating in the pleasant state between dreams and wakefulness, bits of memories and fantasies—the castle, the ball, Lady Scarlet—mixing in with the vague awareness that she was safe in the embrace of her dreams. She twirled a blade of grass between her fingers and looked back at Theo, following her through a field of gold.
Steps echoed from somewhere—not behind, not ahead—and she tried to cling to the dream. Don’t wake me up. Don’t let it end yet.
Something crashed, and her field of gold faded into her room, and the bright summer sun into a wintery gloom.
“My lady, you cannot—” Rafferty’s voice came from somewhere far back, and something shook her.
“Emmeline! Wake up!”
She yawned and blinked, clearing her view into that of Louisa, standing next to her bed, trying to give her the experience of riding a runaway horse.
“Louisa,” Emmeline mumbled, and her friend finally stopped shaking her.
“Have you heard the news? Of course you hadn’t, you’re still asleep—well, you’re not asleep now, so I’ll tell you—or should you get dressed first—no, no, I must tell you!”
Emmeline rose to a sitting position, shaking out her hair. “What’s going on?”
“The rumors, Emmeline, the rumors! Well, they’re not rumors anymore—it is quite definitely certain, for something like this would never spread as a false rumor.” Louisa grabbed her by the lace on her shift’s collar. “The engagement is off!”
“The what?”
“God, you’re slow.”
To be fair, she had been rudely awakened, and she wasn’t entirely sure a part of this didn’t still belong to a dream.
“Lady Cassiopeia and Theo”—Louisa held her by the collar and looked her straight in the eyes, like a mother trying to impart an important lesson onto a child—“are no longer engaged. It’s over. It’s been called off!”
“No.” Emmeline’s head felt like it was swimming as she shook it slowly. “They can’t. Wescott wouldn’t allow …” She couldn’t believe it, she shouldn’t, because if it wasn’t real and she was given false hope …
“I don’t know how, but it’s happened,” Louisa said.
More commotion followed from downstairs; in unison, Emmeline and Louisa whipped their heads toward the open door of Emmeline’s room.
“Sir, it is much too early for visits,” Rafferty said. “I will not have it. I must inform His Lordship …”
Louisa looked at her, her eyes wide and even bigger than usual behind her glasses. “Do you think he’s come here?”
Wescott? Did he come for revenge? How much did he know about her and Theo, about what Maria had told them? Emmeline got up, threw a dressing gown on top of her shift, and stepped into the hallway.
“… not even breakfast yet!” The butler continued his indignited rant.