8

What?” she said, jerking her head up. He let her go. She took a step back and looked up into his face. His eyes. His soul. “I saw you leave the inn. You . . . you got into a carriage with your uncle. I called out to you, but . . . you just left.”

“And I saw you leave,” he said. “That night. When we were interrupted. You were taken away, and my uncle Lockwood sat me down. And he just stared at me.”

She fell silent, watching him with a look of confusion and patience . . . and dread.

“When I asked my uncle what he was doing, he said he was waiting. Because right then, your father was talking to you, and telling you that I was not my uncle’s heir, like your father had been led to believe. That I was without means, and would not be able to buy you gowns, or carriages, or all the other things young ladies want. And then he said he expected that as soon as you learned that, you would show your true colors and leave me there—cold, uncomfortable, and with a bill to pay to the inn.

“I scoffed at him. And then . . . I heard it.”

“Heard what?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“A carriage being brought around in the courtyard,” he said. “My uncle stood and moved to the window. I followed him, dumbly. And there, I saw you.”

“Me?”

“I thought it was you. I wondered . . . over the years I wondered if it really was, but now I know my uncle must have hired out one of the maids to wear your cloak. I saw you—I mean, her—handed up into a carriage. She looked eager. Like she was running away from something unfortunate. And at that moment, every fear I’d ever had was realized.”

He felt an odd jumble in his chest, like his body was being taken over by a strange foreign thing. Like his heart was being forced to break again, to set it properly this time.

“And I packed up my things and I left with my uncle. I went back home to London, and then back to school. And I resolved to never think about you again.” He gave a pained sort of grin. “Most days, I succeeded. But some days, you were there. Right behind my eyes, walking up into that carriage.”

“I didn’t walk into that carriage,” she said quietly. “At least not then. Not until I saw you leave. I even called out to you. You stopped, but you didn’t turn.”

“I heard something. But I thought it was the wind. Or my own wishful thinking.”

“It was wishful thinking,” she said dully. Numb. “Everything was.”

“No, Cee—it wasn’t.” He came forward, his hands cupping her face. “Don’t you see? They tried to separate us, but we never forgot each other.”

“My father, your uncle—why would they have lied to us like that?” she asked. “They found us, they could have forced us to marry instead.”

“Because you were young. Sixteen. And I was no good. Wild and foolish. A comfortable life in exile was preferable to an unhappy one married to a fortune hunter. More.”

“What?” she asked, her eyes wild.

“Your father. He wanted more for you than me—he was trying to protect you.”

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to let his lips come to hers again. She wanted to feel the way she did when his arms were around her—like she was new and known at the same time. She wanted to forget, and let herself have this night.

She wanted to, so desperately. But she couldn’t.

“No. They did it because they knew.”

He drew back the barest inch. “Knew what?”

“Knew how you really felt.”

“How I really—Cee, I’m in love with you.”

But she just shook her head. “You weren’t, though. If you knew me, if you were in love with me, you would have realized that I would never care about gowns or carriages or whatever else your uncle said I wanted from you. You would have trusted me.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He thought wildly, grasping her shoulders, her hands—whatever he could get hold of. “You said you’d forgiven me when you thought I wanted your money. Why can’t you now?”

“Because that was when I thought you were acting out of self-interest. Not that you didn’t have a clue about who I was or what I felt for you.” She shrugged free of his hands. “But you said it yourself. When you saw what you thought was me get into that carriage, every fear was realized.”

“Yes, but because you were too good to be real!” he said. “How could I possibly have faith in this beautiful, perfect girl who came out of nowhere, looked at me with such adoring eyes, and wanted nothing more than my company? Who could ever believe it?”

“I believed it,” she said. “I believed it of you. But you thought the entire time I was a trap waiting to be sprung. That’s why you spent all of today making snide remarks about my subterfuge with Colonel Birmingham, and playing sweet to the soldiers, and flirting—like it’s second nature to me. Because that’s who you thought I was.”

“Not anymore, Cee. That’s the past.”

“Don’t you see?” she said. “The past is all we have, and now . . . it’s changed forever.”

“Cee . . . wait, Cee!”

But she elbowed her way past him and wrenched open the door to the broom closet. She was a step out into the hall when he caught her arm, but not before she bumped squarely into the bemedaled chest of someone they knew.

“Oof! Oh, Miss . . . er, I don’t believe I recall your name, you must forgive me,” Colonel Birmingham said, pulling away from Cee. “Are you enjoying your evening? Oh, and you too, Mr. Hudson!” he said, acknowledging Theo with a nod. “Whatever are you two doing in the broom closet?”

“We got a bit turned around,” Theo said when Cecilia didn’t open her mouth. “Thought it was the dining room.”

“Ah!” Birmingham said, accepting that explanation. “No, dining room’s through there—and the meal’s just about to start. I’ve come this way to fetch my nephew and his wife, they are about to miss the meal altogether.”

“Well, we will leave you to it,” Theo said, with a short bow. “Excuse us—”

“Just a moment,” Birmingham said. “I wanted to ask, has your search borne fruit yet? For your brother?”

“Oh. My brother. Ah, no,” Cecilia said to her toes. “He’s not here. We were just about to leave.”

Birmingham sighed. “I’m so sorry, my dear, but it was a bit of a long shot. Come by the Horse Guards tomorrow morning and we’ll see what we can— Ah! There you are!”

Birmingham turned and beckoned over a young couple. “You almost missed dinner. My dear, Mr. Hudson, may I introduce to you my nephew Victor and his new bride—”

“Eleanor?” Cecilia’s voice was sharp, incredulous.

The girl hanging off Victor Birmingham’s arm was small, with dark hair and a smooth, pale complexion, just like Cecilia’s. That, however, was where the resemblance stopped. Because while Cee looked worried, harried, and absolutely miserable, Eleanor radiated happiness.

“Cousin Cecilia!” Eleanor cried, coming off her husband’s arm to take Cee’s hand, embracing her with a smile. “Oh my goodness, whatever are you doing here?”

“I . . . I . . . I’m looking for you,” Cee blurted out, much to the astonishment of her cousin.

“For me?” she glanced up at the noble and concerned countenance of her new husband. “But why?”

“Eleanor, you ran away from home!” she said. For the first time that day, Theo noticed that Cee did not attempt discretion about her cousin’s circumstances. Indeed, she had flat-out abandoned decorum. If there had been a crowd in that hallway, no doubt it would be rapt.

Thank goodness for the promptness of military mealtimes.

“Your father wrote us, telling us you were lost forever!” Cecilia continued. “I could not allow that. I . . . I came to find you, and . . . save you.” Her voice petered off at the end, lost.

Eleanor gave a sparkling peal of laughter. “But, Cecilia, I’m in no need of saving! May I introduce my husband, Mr. Birmingham?” she said, putting particular relish on the word “husband.”

The young man gave a deep bow. “I take it you are my cousin, Miss Goodhue, ma’am. My Ellie has told me all about you.”

“You have?” Cecilia said, turning a stark white as Eleanor turned an embarrassed pink.

“Well, I . . . I wanted him to know why I was so nervous about running away to him,” she said with chagrin.

“Yes,” Cee said dully. “Of course.”

“I think,” Theo said, clearing his throat, “there is a great deal of concern as to why you ran away, Miss . . . er, Mrs. Birmingham.”

“That, I’m afraid, is my doing,” Victor said, stepping in for his wife.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit mine as well,” Colonel Birmingham added.

“My father is Lord Birmingham. My parents are very aware of the consequence due to them,” Victor said.

“Sticks up their—” Colonel Birmingham grumbled. Then he remembered he was in the presence of ladies (and a civilian gentleman) and quickly curbed his tongue. “My apologies.”

“When Eleanor and I met, we fell in love immediately,” Victor said. “We met while riding, and she was just a vision in the saddle.”

“While riding,” Cee echoed, shaking her head. “Of course.”

“But my parents would never agree to a marriage with someone of no property. No offense, my love.”

“None taken,” Eleanor said, looping her arm around his again, presenting a united front. “And while my parents knew I liked Victor, they had no idea of the depth of my feelings. That he was the one. More than once I overheard my mother say that I was far too young to have a true connection to any of the officers.”

“So we decided to run away. With my uncle’s help, we procured a special license, and we were married in London the day she arrived.” Victor raised Eleanor’s hand to his lips. “It’s been a week of wedded bliss. And even my parents love you. Although not quite as much as I do.”

As Eleanor visibly melted at this overt display, Theo could feel Cecilia’s small body beside his stiffen into stone.

“Well . . . that’s good,” she said, forcing a tight smile onto her face. “I can write your father and let him know the happy news.”

“Oh, there’s no need,” Eleanor said, tearing her eyes away from her husband. “I wrote them the morning after the wedding. And I’ve already received their reply—they are coming to visit next week!”

The smile fell from Cecilia’s face. “I see. I can only imagine that there is a letter waiting for me from your father at home.”

“Yes, you could have saved yourself quite a bit of trouble!” Eleanor laughed. “But then you always were a little headstrong. Or so says Father.”

“If only you’d told me this morning that it was our Eleanor you were looking for,” Colonel Birmingham said. Then he grimaced. “You even mentioned Manchester! And I didn’t even think of my Victor here, having just transferred. If I had known . . . Although I do understand your circumspection, you could have saved your poor Mr. Hudson a long day!”

“Mr. Hudson?” Eleanor’s eyes whipped up to his. “Oh but, that was the name of—”

Eleanor’s gaze widened as her jaw slowly dropped. Her expression shifted from Theo to Cecilia. Then, to the closet they had occupied not three minutes before. Its door hanging open like a secret waiting to be told. “Oh, cousin, what have you been up to?” Hands came to her cheeks as her mouth formed a perfect O. “What will everyone say?”

Cecilia was already as pale as he’d ever seen her, but for the first time, Theo was afraid she might faint. And that was the only thing keeping him from launching into a rage at a precocious and advantageously married seventeen-year-old girl. Instead of giving voice to his dark thoughts, he gently took Cee by the arm and let his body give her strength.

“Well, we should have you over!” Colonel Birmingham was saying, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. “Instead of coming to Horse Guards tomorrow morning, come to the house for breakfast! It will be lovely!”

“I’m sorry, but I think I must be getting Miss Goodhue back. Lord and Lady Ashby will be expecting us,” Theo said, making sure to drop the Ashby name in the hopes of impressing the respectability of the situation upon them.

Hell, in hopes of impressing them, full stop.

“Come on, Cee,” he whispered in her ear. “Let’s go.”