Thea stared at the place where the letter had flown, then back at him. “Get married?” she repeated. She had lost her wits, it seemed; perhaps they had run away with her virtue.
Rafe certainly seemed to think so, if his incredulous expression was anything to judge by. “Of course we’ll get married. We made love. An hour ago. Or had you already forgotten?”
Marrying him. Properly. Living here at Brinkley End. Could he mean it?
Well. She’d be a countess. For real, this time. Never again would she need to worry about her next meal, or where she would sleep, or what she would wear. Invitations would come flooding in. The wedding vows would work like a magic spell, transforming her from unwanted, impoverished outcast, to a desirable member of society.
And Rafe… Kind, heroic Rafe. He would be the one to save her. She would always have him nearby, to give her hugs and kisses, to dine with her and make her smile. How honorable he was. Yet if those blissful moments under the willows had turned his mind as soft and dazed as her own, he wouldn’t be thinking straight. After all, if her own parents didn’t want her, why would he?
“You are being honorable and self-sacrificing again,” she managed to say. “Fancy that. A nobleman who is actually noble.”
“I’m being… I don’t…” He ran his hands through his hair, paced wildly for several steps, then threw himself into a chair that could barely contain his restless limbs. “I mean, we… You could be… Under the willows…”
“You don’t owe me anything,” she said softly. “Not when it won’t last.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why won’t it last?”
“Because nothing ever does.”
“But this—” He surged to his feet again, his sentences coming in short bursts. “I want to be that man who— Hell, I am that man. To have a bride, in this home. Now I understand about the past…about Katharine… I see how my life can be different.”
Despite his words, he paced like a fierce animal caged. Something squeezed her chest and she feared she would cry.
“Then how can you know?” she countered. “I am the only woman you have seen since then, and maybe you’re simply relieved, or maybe after the willows you’re not thinking straight.”
“For crying out loud, Thea, don’t tell me what I think! I know what I want.” He whirled around, his arms waving. “And your pamphlet, your reputation, the lot. If you’re married to me, it won’t matter. Nothing in the outside world will matter.”
She shook her head. All this talking and nothing made sense.
“You can’t understand,” she said. “You cannot know how it feels to be unable to trust the very ground on which you walk. I must put the world right, for how can I ever feel secure again, when I do not even have a safe place to stand?”
“You would be a countess. A blasted countess! Your parents would welcome you with open arms. All would be forgiven.”
Quite right. They would forgive her for her scandal, though it was a malicious lie. They would forgive her for becoming Rafe’s mistress, though that was not true. How magnanimous they would be, to forgive her the sins she had never committed, and overlook the mistakes she had never made.
And she would—what? She would be expected to be grateful for that?
But yes, if she married him, her past would be washed away and they would welcome her home.
That is, they would welcome him. When that door opened, that blue door with the brass mermaid knocker, she would enter with a ring on her hand and the Earl of Luxborough at her side.
And she would never know.
For the rest of her life, she would never know if her parents truly cared about her or truly believed her story. She would never know if Rafe truly wanted her, or if he was marrying her out of duty or kindness, or because of his relief over the revelation about Katharine and the passing novelty of Thea in his life.
For the rest of her life, she would have everything. Everything. And she would never know if it was truly hers.
As soon as she disappointed him or annoyed him or angered him, would he tire of her, send her to London, put her on the other side of the house and ignore her? If people told him stories about her, would he believe her or them?
Why, it was only yesterday that he’d discovered the truth about the past and learned to see the world differently. He was in no state to make decisions about his future, when he was still discovering his past.
If he truly wanted to marry her now, he would still want to marry her in a month. Wouldn’t he? Perhaps after she left he would return to his plants and forget she had ever been here. Perhaps he would remember her sometimes, and be grateful for his escape.
Or perhaps he would think of her, and want her, and come after her.
“True,” she agreed softly. “They would open the door to us, to the Earl of Luxborough and his wife.”
Rafe had stopped pacing. “I don’t understand what you want. Do you want to live in London?”
“I need to put the world right and know where I stand,” she said. “I need my parents to believe me. I need everyone to listen and know the truth.”
“Oh for crying out loud! Grow up!” Once more, his big body crashed haphazardly into a chair. “Stop being a child. You have to let go.”
Again she remembered watching the release of the hot air balloon, the childhood memory Rafe had stirred. Her fear when the ropes were cut. Now she was an adult. She should not be frightened to have no anchor holding her to the ground. But here was what he did not understand: She did not even have any ground.
“You cannot understand,” she said again.
“I understand you are a grown woman who cares too much what people think and are still trying to get your parents’ approval.”
And there it was. The annoyance—disgust even—in his voice and face was plain. Already he was sick of her. Already she had disappointed him. She had needed to wait barely ten minutes for the evidence. He did not truly want her, any more than her own family did.
“Thank you for your kindness, but I do not think marriage is necessary,” she forced herself to say. “If you will lend me your carriage, I shall leave for London immediately.”
His eyes flickered. He lifted his head, drew up his legs, leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. Joy skipped inside her. He would come after her.
But then he fell back into the chair. “Do you expect me to chase you? You want me to play your games again?”
“This isn’t a game!”
“Because if you go, you’re gone. I won’t come after you.”
Now she had an answer to that too. If he truly wanted to marry her, he would not say that. More lovely words that meant nothing. Yet another place whipped out from under her. She had been right not to put any trust in that.
“Of course you won’t,” she snapped. “You must stay here, hiding from the world, like a ghost haunting your own house.”
“Another fanciful, childish notion.”
“Call me childish then, if that is how you feel.”
His rough laugh sounded haunted too. “You have no idea what I’m feeling right now.”
Thea longed to go to him, but she would only hurt herself, so instead she ran to her room. This time, she packed, properly and neatly. This time, nothing stopped Gilbert from receiving her message and preparing the earl’s carriage. Together they carried out her trunks, one filled with the items she had bought to resell, and the other filled with Helen’s clothes and the cat’s mask.