Chapter 28

“I am sorry, Miss Callaghan,” murmured Mr. Knight, his feet moving quickly to match her pace. “I didn’t mean to put you in such an awkward position, and I am sorry if my teasing went too far, but please do not think poorly of me. I swear I had no hand in the tea leaf reading.”

Marching toward the exit, Angelica could hardly hear what the gentleman was saying, let alone comprehend its meaning, but his babbling apologies broke through the ruddy haze fogging her thoughts.

“I am not angry with you, Mr. Knight,” she said, hoping that would be the end of it, but the gentleman followed her through the rickety-looking barn door.

Even with the blast of winter breeze, Angelica didn’t feel the cold. Her flushed skin reveled in the icy touch, though her temper didn’t cool in the slightest. Turning away from the path that led to the house and also into town, she walked the bare stretch along the edge of the barn that had been protected from snow drifts.

“How dare he! He acts as though it is my doing. He knows what he’s done—” Angelica stopped in her tracks as she rounded the far corner. A pair in the shadows leapt apart, straightening their clothes and wiping at their mouths as they turned away from the intruders.

“Guinevere?” called Angelica.

Mr. Strickland tugged at his waistcoat and murmured something that was lost to the night air as he scurried past the intruders. Mr. Knight pressed a warm hand to her arm, and Angelica felt the comforting touch sweep through her as he stood in silent support.

Glancing over her shoulder at him, she whispered, “Please give us a moment.”

With the skies crystal clear, it didn’t matter that the moon was not at its strongest, for its silvery light illuminated the world enough for Angelica to see the worry in Mr. Knight’s gaze, and she lifted a hand to rest it atop his, squeezing his fingers as she nodded an assurance. A puff of vapor billowed out of his mouth as he glanced between the ladies before turning away.

Angelica drew her arms around her as the night swallowed them, her thoughts churning as she waited for his footsteps to fade.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked in a tone as cold as the ice at their feet.

“You do not understand, Angelica.” Guinevere’s breath hitched, and she wiped at her cheeks. “Clarence is so dreadful! Again and again, I forgive him and sacrifice for him, and it is never enough. I am never good enough. But Mr. Strickland loves everything about me, and we never argue or disagree. He is never stubborn and unforgiving. Never demanding and impatient. How can you not want me to be happy, Angelica?”

Letting out a burst of air that spiraled around her, she shook her head. “Of course I want you to be happy, Guinevere, but running from your troubles will leave you miserable in the end.”

Her sister scowled. “None of this would be an issue if Clarence wasn’t such a stubborn fool. Any love I felt for him died after years of him demanding the sun, moon, and stars from me. Of constantly finding fault with everything I do, when I have done everything I can to make our marriage a success! I loved him, and if he would simply treat me better, everything would be perfect—”

“That isn’t love.” Angelica squeezed her arms tight around her, her eyes boring into her sister. “You cannot say you love someone and then place caveats with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts.’ Love is not love if it is dependent on the other behaving precisely as you wish him to.”

“And what do you know of love, Angelica?” scoffed Guinevere. “You’ve never loved anyone.”

“I love you.”

“That is not what I mean, and you know it.”

Angelica lifted a single shoulder in response. “It is still true. I love you, and that isn’t dependent on you doing what I wish you to do, else I wouldn’t feel a shred of it at this very moment. And though I am frustrated, angry, and so very disappointed with you at present, I still love you dearly.”

“But I never truly loved my husband! What I feel for Mr. Strickland is so much greater and deeper than anything I’ve ever felt for Clarence.”

Angelica’s brows rose at that. “You said the same thing about every beau after moving on to the next one. You allow your love to grow cold and leap into another, convinced that nothing you felt before was ‘real.’”

“Love simply is, Angelica! One cannot help one’s feelings!”

“We are the master of our emotions,” replied Angelica, her voice firm and unyielding. How she longed to take both Clarence and Guinevere and lock them in a room together until they sorted out this nonsense!

“But I love Mr. Strickland. I didn’t mean it to happen, but I do, and denying it is destroying me,” she whispered. “I wish I had never married Clarence!”

As much as Angelica hated to say the words, her sister needed to hear the truth.

“And I am sorry for that—I truly am—but it doesn’t alter the fact that you are married,” replied Angelica, rubbing her arms. “You made your choice, and when you promised to love and cherish him the rest of your life, it wasn’t contingent on his behavior or whether he does precisely what you want. You vowed to control your actions, not his, and one cannot break a promise simply because one does not feel like honoring it anymore.”

Guinevere gaped. “But love is more important than anything!”

“And when your love for Mr. Strickland simply fades?”

“It won’t. It’s different this time. I know it is.”

Angelica’s shoulders fell as she stared at her sister. “And what about your children? You have a responsibility to them as well—one you can never erase. If this is discovered, you will ruin not only your own life but theirs as well.”

“Surely the children would fare better with a mother who was happy,” said Guinevere.

“They would fare better with parents who learn to settle their disputes amicably and treat each other with the same decency and respect they are willing to grant others,” replied Angelica, though she forced more gentleness into her tone than she felt at present. “Isn’t that the best lesson for them to learn? That love can prevail even when all hope seems lost? That love thrives when each is willing to set aside their differences and work together?”

Cold seeped into Angelica’s skin, but it didn’t chill her as much as seeing her sister’s shoulders droop as all emotion leached from her expression.

“You are right, Angelica,” whispered Guinevere. “You always are.”

“Then I hope you will remember it. I do want to see you happy, and it is within your grasp if you will seize it,” replied Angelica.

Nodding, Guinevere stepped around her, but Angelica stopped her and pulled her into an embrace, which the lady allowed without returning the affection.

“I am sorry,” whispered Angelica, the words surfacing from deep in her heart. The path she’d laid out was not an easy one to take, but Angelica had trod it herself and hoped her sister would find an even greater measure of joy because of it.

Guinevere nodded and shuffled away, leaving Angelica alone in the darkness.

*

Shifting from foot to foot, Julian tucked Miss Callaghan’s cloak under his greatcoat; he couldn’t close his buttons around it, but at least it would keep the fabric warm until the lady required it. Despite the pointlessness of the movement, he pulled out his pocket watch, though he didn’t have a starting time with which to compare.

It felt as though an hour passed as he waited there in the shadow of the barn. Through the thin coverings on the doors and windows, the strains of music and laughter carried on the air, but Julian stared at the corner of the building, waiting for any sign. A flash of skirt, and Julian stepped forward—only to find Mrs. Cogswell striding toward him, her lips set in a grim line. The lady passed without acknowledgment and strode to the barn door whilst Julian crept closer to the edge of the building to wait.

Yet Miss Callaghan didn’t appear.

Ought he to interrupt her solitude? Julian didn’t think she would welcome it after so many upsets tonight, yet the temperature was falling fast, and she had naught but her petticoats and gown to stave off a chill.

Forcing his feet forward, he bumped straight into her as she came around the corner.

“Mr. Knight,” she said, her brows raised, though her eyes seemed not to see him, and her tone was as hollow and haunted as her sister’s expression had been.

“I wanted to bring you your cloak,” he said, pulling it free and holding it up.

Miss Callaghan’s eyes stared at it for a long moment before she turned and allowed him to drape it over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words almost lost to the wintry world.

“May I escort you home?” he asked, nodding down the lane.

Miss Callaghan glanced in that direction and then turned her eyes back to his, though she seemed still trapped in her head.

“I thought you might prefer to return home instead of venturing back into the party,” he said, offering his arm. “And I would be honored to escort you.”

Pressing a hand to her head, Miss Callaghan blinked and some of the life returned to her eyes. “That is kind of you, but I am in no mood for conversation at present. It has been a very trying day, and I want nothing more than to be in my bed.”

Her voice cracked with the last few words, and she cleared her throat as she straightened and moved to step around him, but Julian stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“Please, Miss Callaghan. I give you my word I shan’t say a thing, but with the state you are in, I will not rest easy unless I ensure that you arrive home safe and sound.”

Rubbing at her forehead, the lady drew in a sharp breath and straightened her spine. With a sharp nod, she slid her arm through his as her lungs hitched, and Julian guided her around the snowbanks and onto the road.

In all his life, Julian couldn’t think of another promise he’d made that was so difficult to keep, for he longed to say something to Miss Callaghan. He couldn’t think what would possibly be of assistance after such a difficult day, but his heart demanded he do something to make her smile once more. To lift the burden weighing her down. To draw her eyes from the ground at her feet and make them sparkle once more with that impish glint that appeared whenever her dry wit was present.

But Julian clung to his promise, setting aside the desires beating at his chest, and escorted her home in silence, hoping that perhaps that was enough to give her even a modicum of peace.