Chapter Twenty-Four

"I can't do what you want me to do, Mama."

Mrs. Thornhill glanced up from her writing desk, eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline.

"I beg your pardon?"

Felicity drew in a breath. "You want me to marry Lord Vincent. I can't do it. I won't."

Mrs. Thornhill set aside her pen and letter, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms tight.

"I see. Well, you know what the alternative is, don't you? I suggest you pack your things, then, and make your peace with a life of isolation."

"I can't do that either."

"My girl, you have no choice."

"I do have a choice, though," Felicity continued, stepping forward. She'd gone over what she wanted to say in her head, over and over again, pacing her room up and down, up and down, until she was quite sure she would wear a hole in the carpet. Even now, the words seemed fuzzy, slipping away from her. So she gave up on her rehearsed speech, and simply said what felt right.

"You marry the man we have approved for you," Mrs. Thornhill said, sounding irritated, "Or you go into seclusion in the countryside. Those are your choices. It's no good trying to wheedle your way out of this one."

"There is a third choice. I ignore both options, and I strike out on my own."

There was a brief silence.

"And become a beggar on the street?" Mrs. Thornhill said at last, giving a snort of derisive laughter. "You are more naive than I thought, then. You won't get a penny from us. Your money is not your money at all – it is your father's, and it will be given to your husband if you choose to marry. Otherwise, you are reliant on us."

"And yet you have the audacity to call me a burden."

"Felicity! How dare you speak to me in that…"

"Lucy has told me I can stay here," Felicity interrupted, ignoring the dangerously red tint to her mother's face. "They don't think I'm a burden."

"Not now, but you'll outstay your welcome faster than you think, my girl."

"I can't marry Vincent. I love somebody else."

There was a silence after those words. Felicity let out a sigh of relief. It certainly felt good to get that off her chest, at long last. To finally say it aloud. Mrs. Thornhill blinked, taken aback. Felicity even thought that she saw sympathy and understanding in her mother's eyes.

"Lord Lanwood, I assume," she said, sighing.

"Yes, that's right. I… I didn't intend for it to happen, Mama."

"No, people never do," Mrs. Thornhill said. She looked thoroughly tired now. "I'm sorry for it, Felicity. I think Miss Sinclair has her eye on him."

"Yes, I think he has feelings for her, too. They were engaged once. I can't compete with her, and even if I could, I wouldn't. Why should two women fight for a man's attention, as if he couldn't make a decision himself? It's silly."

Mrs. Thornhill got to her feet, holding out her arms to Felicity.

In spite of everything, in spite of all the angry words, the insults, the half-meant threats, Felicity sagged into her mother's arms, chin resting on her shoulder, their arms tight around each other.

"It hurts, Mama," Felicity said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I know, my darling girl. I know. But you can't let this incident ruin your future. Lord Vincent is your future."

And just like that, the moment was gone. Pulling back, Felicity stifled a sigh.

"I can't marry Lord Vincent, and I won't go into seclusion in the country."

Mrs. Thornhill sighed. "We are going round and round in circles, Felicity. The threat your father and I made was a very serious one. We have your best interests in mind, believe me."

She smiled wryly. "I know that you believe that. I need to go, now."

"Go? Go where?" Mrs. Thornhill seemed more and more bewildered, see-sawing between triumph and despair. "Felicity, please. Let's sit down. Let's talk. Lord Lanwood is a fine man, sure enough, and we'd have been pleased to see you make that match, but Lord Vincent is…"

"I can't, Mama. I have to go."

Felicity went to the door, and hesitated, just for a moment. She glanced back over her shoulder at her mother, taking in her confusion and worry.

I could tell her. I could tell her what I'm going to do. Maybe she would understand.

The answer presented itself at once.

She would never understand. Even if she tried.

Smiling wryly to herself, Felicity stepped quietly out into the hallway, closing the door behind her. It didn't stop Mrs. Thornhill shouting after her, of course.

"What are you doing, Felicity? Where are you going? Come back at once! We have things to talk about! Felicity!"

It took some time to find him. Felicity avoided asking any of the servants to tell her where Lord Lanwood could be found. Somehow, it seemed like speaking aloud, or telling anyone of her intentions before she could talk to Arthur, would break the spell.

She found him in the library.

Arthur was sitting in the window seat, a book hanging unheeded from his hands. He was looking out of the window, lost in thought. When she cleared her throat, he jumped.

"Miss Thornhill," he gasped, bouncing to his feet. "Apologies, I didn't see you there. Did you want use of the library? Your father tells me you're leaving today."

"Perhaps," Felicity murmured. "I have expected to see you in here with Miranda Sinclair. Are congratulations in order?"

He flushed. "What you saw earlier, Felicity – that is, Miss Thornhill, excuse me – wasn't what it seemed. Miranda – Miss Sinclair – was entirely too forward. I'm sure she'd be obliged if you wouldn't repeat what you saw to a living soul."

"I won't, of course," Felicity murmured. "Do you have a few minutes to talk, Arthur? It's important. We are leaving today, and frankly, I'm not sure what will happen to me when I go. Lucy said I could stay here, which means that this conversation is not a good idea. And yet, here I am, ready to talk."

He tilted his head to one side, brow furrowed.

"You seem tense."

"I am," she admitted. "It's been a long few days."

"Are you feeling… feeling better? After the business with the chandelier, that is."

She nodded. "Much better, thank you."

He indicated a pair of armchairs, angled towards the empty fireplace, and they both took their seats.

A long silence prevailed. At the end of it, they both started talking at once.

"What I wanted to say…"

"Miss Sinclair is…"

They both stopped, smiling nervously.

"I am sorry Miss Thornhill. You may start first."

"No, you."

"I insist. Ladies' first."

"No, no, you. I'm the guest, after all. Please, Arthur."

He seemed to flinch, just a little, when she used his name. Felicity knew it wasn't proper to use his first name, but neither did she care.

"Miss Sinclair has left our home," Arthur said finally. "She left about an hour ago."

Felicity blinked. "Oh. I am surprised. I rather thought…"

"Thought what, that we were about to get engaged?"

She seemed to think that you were."

He snorted. "Well, she was wrong. Miranda… Miranda behaved very badly. She behaved in a way that could destroy her reputation and affect her family for the worse. Of course, I would not say anything that would cause her so much trouble, but I've made it clear that she is not welcome at my home anymore."

"The… the chandelier," Felicity managed, her voice hushed. "Nobody could understand how it fell."

His expression tightened. "I can prove nothing. But Miranda is not coming back to this house, not ever. An engagement is out of the question. To be frank, it was never an option at all. I would never have married Miranda Sinclair."

"Oh," she breathed. Her heart was hammering in her chest, like a flock of butterflies trying to get out. Arthur was watching her, almost breathlessly, waiting for her to speak. Waiting for something to happen.

Now it's your turn to speak.

"The truth is," she said finally, "My parents have given me an ultimatum. Accept Lord Vincent's marriage proposal or go into seclusion in the countryside, without my books and studies. I cannot accept either of these alternatives."

"I'm so sorry. That's terrible to hear. Perhaps my mother can speak to them, or…"

"No, I already know what I intend to do." She drew in a deep breath, sitting up straighter. "It's not at all what ladies are meant to do, but I find that I don't care very much about that sort of thing."

He watched her for a long moment, waiting. "Go on."

It was too late to go back, even if she'd wanted to, so Felicity continued.

"It seems our initial introduction did not quite set the tone for a favourable acquaintance, did it?"

A low chuckle. "No," he admitted. "It didn't."

"But things… things got better. Since I've been here, Arthur, you've been the brightest spot in my life. Lucy loves me, of course she does, but she's still grieving, still adjusting to her new life. But indeed, you are quite exceptional, Arthur."

He seemed to have stopped breathing.

"I… I don't understand what you're saying," he managed at last.

"What I'm saying is that I don't care about propriety, about ladies being quiet and waiting for things to come to them. I'm glad you're not marrying Miranda – she wouldn't have made you happy. You don't owe me a thing, Arthur. But I love you, even so. I love you."

The silence seemed to last forever. Felicity didn't allow herself to look away, kept herself sitting still, hands folded on her lap, looking at him and waiting for his response.

"I… I don't know what to say," he managed at last.

"Well, you don't need to say anything. I don't expect anything from you, Arthur. I just want you to know how I feel, that's all. I think we're good enough friends for that."

He bit his lip, shaking his head. "When Miranda called off our engagement, it broke my heart. I thought that I'd never love again. For the most part, that was true. I suppose part of me always thought I was still in love with her. When I saw her again, I realised how hollow my feelings had always been for her. I didn't love her, not how people are meant to love each other. Her breaking off the engagement was the best thing for me – for both of us, I'd say. And I think that if I hadn't seen through her so strongly, I would never have realised the truth."

"Which is?"

He looked at her straight in the eye. "That I love you too, Felicity."

She gave a little hiccup of surprise, which was extremely undignified and ruined the moment.

"I… I thought…"

"I love you," he said firmly. "I think perhaps I loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you – although I'm fairly sure the feeling was not mutual."

He rose slowly, tentatively to his feet, and Felicity copied him. When had they stepped so close together? They were close enough that she could feel the heat coming from him, could almost feel the heartbeat pulsing underneath his waistcoat. She lifted her hand tentatively to his cheek, vaguely aware that this conversation and this action would destroy her reputation forever, and not caring in the least.

"Will you marry me, Felicity Thornhill?" he breathed, voice low and unsteady. "I'm… I'm not a perfect man. My scars are terrible, and I don't just mean the ones on my face. Sometimes I feel like my mind is…"

"Yes," she interrupted. "I'll take all of you, broken or whole, and consider it the best decision I've ever made."

A slow, surprised smile spread over his face, and a matching warmth bloomed inside Felicity's chest.

She was never sure which of them moved first, only that they were kissing, that his lips were soft, that his hand was warm on the small of her back, his chest and shoulders broad and firm under the deeply unfashionable suit he was wearing, and none of it mattered even in the slightest because he loved her.

He loves me, she thought dizzily. He loves me.