THE SUNDAY STREETS WERE EERILY quiet on the familiar route to Lambeth. Molly’s protests about this sudden trip had melted in the face of Margaret’s stony-faced determination. Her father would doubtless put her unexplained absence down to a childish tantrum if he actually inquired about her whereabouts, which was highly unlikely. What her mother would make of her behaviour she had no idea, nor could she care right now. Given the outcome of the conversation she had just had with her father, she needed to speak to Sebastian without delay.
The best and only way you can demonstrate your usefulness is by marrying Killin. The duke’s words rang in her ears as the hackney carriage rattled over the cobble-stones. She had spent her life trying to please her father. She had twisted and turned herself inside out trying to be the daughter he wanted. When he appeared cruel, she’d convinced herself he knew better than she. When he was cold, she’d told herself she hadn’t earned his affection. When he told her she was pointless and selfish, she had tried to change. She had changed, but it hadn’t made any difference. He didn’t love her. He wasn’t even fond of her. If he hated her, at least she would have provoked an emotion, but he had swatted her away like an annoyingly persistent insect. He was completely indifferent to the turmoil his cruel words had created, and the hurt. He was heartless. But she was not. There was no time now for her to gently persuade Sebastian that the idea of their marrying was an impossible dream; she had to act immediately before her father threatened that which was most precious to his heart: his Lambeth vocation.
This morning she had been worried about becoming betrothed to two men at once. By the end of today, she would cut herself loose from both. Amongst the seething swell of emotions, a tiny flicker of relief glowed. Though the duke had forced her hand in terms of the timing, she had already made the decision to tell Sebastian she could not marry him. It was the right thing to do, and would spare them both in the process. Dear heavens, if her father could use his connections to force Sebastian to toe the line simply for encouraging her to speak up for herself, he’d likely have him banished to a mission in Africa if he dared to marry her.
Trembling, Margaret descended from the cab as it came to a halt outside the rectory, gathering together the tattered remnants of her courage. Whatever became of her now, she was determined not to be the cause of Sebastian’s downfall. It was time to shatter his romantic illusions.
“LADY MARGARET! AND MOLLY, of course.” Esther held open the door, ushering them in. “What a lovely surprise. We were not expecting you today. Mrs. Elmhirst is out at the children’s hospital, but Father Sebastian is in his study preparing for evensong. Shall I bring you some tea?”
“No, thank you.”
Aware of Esther and Molly exchanging a significant look, Margaret was too intent on the coming interview to wonder what it might mean. She had failed to win her father over, but she was determined not to fail here. She would persuade Sebastian that his future plans could not include her.
He was seated behind his desk, his shirt-sleeves rolled up, his coat thrown over the back of the chair. The sunlight streaming in through the window created gold highlights in his chestnut-coloured hair which was, as ever, tousled from his habit of raking his hands through it.
“Margaret!” Throwing down his pen, he bounded across the room to meet her. “How lovely. I wasn’t expecting you.” But as she turned her face, so that his kiss landed not on her lips but her cheek, his smile faded. “What’s the matter? You’re as white as a sheet. Are you ill?”
Margaret pulled off her bonnet and gloves, taking her customary seat opposite him. “I know it’s your busiest day, and I’m very sorry to have arrived like this without any notice, but I have something pressing to tell you.”
“That sounds rather ominous.”
“Yes.” There was no way to soften the blow. “I can’t marry you.”
“I know you can’t marry me now, but as we agreed, I’m willing to wait. . . .”
“Sebastian, I can’t marry you. Not now. Not ever. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t understand. What has happened to change your mind?”
He made to get up, but she shook her head, waving him back to his seat. To mention her discussion with her father would only muddy the waters. It had brought matters to a head, but her decision had already been made. “The only reason my parents brought me to London is to make a good match.”
“And our union would be considered a very poor substitute,” he agreed ruefully. “I understand that, which is why we agreed to wait until you are of age and can do as you please.”
She had never actually agreed to marry him. She had hoped, and she had dreamed, but she had never said yes. But nor had she said no, nor even once confessed her growing doubts, and she felt guilty about that. Margaret clasped her hands more tightly together. Now was the time to make the situation crystal clear. “If I married you, my father would never forgive me.”
“Surely you exaggerate. He will bluster, it is a trait of men such as he, and he may shun you for a while, for the sake of his pride, but you are his daughter. He’ll come round; he won’t disown you completely.”
“He will, and will also insist my mother, sisters, and brothers follow suit. I have been hiding my head in the sand too long. No amount of waiting will change the fact that our marriage would not be tolerated.”
“But if we presented it as a fait accompli . . .”
“I would be dead to them,” Margaret said. “Forever.”
Sebastian looked appalled. “I knew there would be an outcry, but—” He broke off, shaking his head. “No, I cannot believe they would be so cruel.”
“I am afraid you must. I am so sorry to break it to you so suddenly and without warning, but I cannot in all conscience allow you to believe that we have any hope of a future together.”
“So you are being cruel to be kind, is that what you are saying?” he said, with a short, harsh laugh.
“I am trying to spare us both inevitable disappointment and the pain that would accompany it,” Margaret said in a small voice.
“Oh no, that was unfair of me. You did not deserve. . . .” Sebastian swore softly under his breath, then coloured. “I beg your pardon. If what you say is true, then my head has been in the clouds.”
“And mine, too. But not anymore.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothing more to be said.”
As she bit back a sob, he pushed his chair back, pulling her into his arms. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she closed her eyes, drinking in the familiar scent of him, surrendering to the comfort of his soothing hand on her hair.
“Is there really no hope?” he asked.
She lifted her head to meet his sorrowful gaze. It would be cruel to tell him about her father’s threats, and unnecessary now, for even in his question there was a kernel of acceptance. Deep down, had he, too, had doubts? she wondered. That, too, was now irrelevant. “I’m sorry.”
His arms tightened around her. “What will I do without you?”
He sounded so unlike himself, so utterly shaken to the core. Margaret tightened her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
She felt him take a ragged breath before setting her at arm’s length. “Was it wrong of me to dare to fall in love with you?”
“It was wrong of me, to allow us both to dream. I love you, but in my heart I have always known that we had no future, no matter how much I wanted to believe it. I am truly sorry to have to tell you like this. I know I should have told you sooner.”
“You tried to tell me from the first, but I didn’t want to listen.”
His hair had fallen over his brow. She ached to smooth it back. “I shall miss you terribly.”
“And I will miss you, more than I can say.”
“And Susannah, too. Will you say goodbye to her for me?”
Sebastian nodded, biting his lip hard. Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed, seeing the effort he was making to control himself. Two steps, and she would be in his arms once again. One last embrace, one last kiss to remember him by, was all she wanted.
He leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers, but then changed his mind, pressing a feather-light kiss on her forehead instead before turning away. “Go now, I beg you. Goodbye, Margaret, and God bless you and keep you safe.”