Those words...that was what she needed to remember who she was and why she was walking away. Her initial anger, the sharp betrayal she’d felt when she’d overheard him talking to Stallworth.
It gave her the strength she needed to pull her hands from his grip with a quick shake of her head. “There is no need,” she said. “You have made yourself quite clear.”
“Sarah, I was searching for you earlier because there was something I needed to say.”
Her heart was pounding so furiously she could hear the blood rushing past her ears. She saw it there in his eyes, the feelings that had been driving her mad ever since he’d arrived.
The intensity of it nearly took her breath away but she clenched her hands into fists and shook her head once more. “Don’t, Theo. Don’t say whatever it is you mean to say.”
“But Sarah—”
“No!” She shouted it this time, her voice strangled and choked as emotions welled up within her and made her tremble. This was what she wanted. It was everything she wanted.
But not like this.
Her chest still felt like it had been shredded after hearing the way he’d believed that wretched Stallworth. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d meant to take her problems to her brother rather than trust her to make the right decisions.
“No,” she said again, backing away with shuffling steps.
“Sarah, we must talk about us.” His voice took on that impossibly overbearing tone, and that had her stiffening, stopping her backward scramble to face him head on.
“There is no us,” she said. It came out far breathier than intended as the words scraped against her throat on the way out. Her stomach turned as she said it again, her heart aching so badly she thought it might shatter. “There is no us, Theo, because I cannot give my heart to someone who does not trust me. I deserve better than that.”
His shoulders slumped and his face fell, but that was nothing compared to the pain in his eyes. The hurt that she’d caused.
She shut her eyes to block it out, guilt warring with her own pain, her own desire to reach for him, to touch him, and kiss him…
When she opened them, she saw that his gaze was fixed on her, taking in everything. Seeing it all.
But that was the thing, wasn’t it?
He did not see the woman she could be, only the silly fool she’d been.
Everything in her wanted to close the distance between them and lean into him. Let him shelter her from the cold and keep her safe and warm…
But that was exactly why she needed to walk away. Because that was not the kind of woman she wanted to be, and it would be who she became if she let him take care of her like he was so clearly prone to do.
She would go from being a silly childish fool in one household to a silly childish wife in another, and that was not the future she’d allow herself to live. “I don’t mean to hurt you,” she whispered. “But I cannot—I will not be that person anymore.”
His gaze was even, understanding mixing with pain in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to cast you as such.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“As am I.” His voice was so low she nearly missed it. His jaw was clenched tight and his body seemed to coil as if he might pounce.
But when she took another step back, he did not follow. And when she turned to flee, his footsteps did not pursue.
Did he know how badly she was hurting as she hurried away? She suspected he did. She thought maybe that was why he let her go, because maybe he knew that if he fought her on this, she would cave.
She would let him take care of her.
But that wasn’t the kind of love she wanted in her life, and it would never be enough. She must keep herself from falling head over heels in love.
She flinched as her heart slammed into her ribcage in protest.
Too late, it seemed to say. She was too late. Her heart had gone and given itself to this man, despite the fact that what he felt for her could never be the same. It could never be equal.
It was friendship and protectiveness, but that was not real love.
That was not the partnership she wanted in her life, nor the respect that she would crave.
It would kill her in the end if she allowed it to go on any further.
She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob as she reached the doors to the house. Once inside, she leaned back against the door as her lungs struggled to work, as tears threatened to spill off her lashes.
She found herself counting breaths as she listened to the mundane sounds of people chatting in the other room and servants moving past in the hallway just beyond this vestibule.
She could not stay here forever. Daisy, or one of the others, would come looking.
And besides… She pushed herself away from the door with one long, steadying breath. Avoiding the others would help nothing. She’d merely raise more questions about where she’d been and with whom.
The last thing she needed was to give Stallworth’s story credence if he decided to talk.
And so she fixed a smile on her face and went to join the others in the drawing room.
“There she is!” Lily called out as she walked in. Lily was seated beside Marigold, with Daisy perched on her other side. “Marigold was telling the other ladies about this morning’s beautiful ceremony.”
Daisy leaned forward. “Lily was telling them. Marigold was suffering through the attention, as usual.”
Marigold’s cheeks were indeed pink from being the center of attention, but she was still glowing with happiness from this morning’s wedding.
“I cannot believe you held a secret ceremony,” Virginia said. “How delightful.” Daisy’s American cousin was shaking her head with disbelief, awe written plainly on her pretty face. With delicate features and blonde hair, she resembled Daisy in looks, but her confident bearing and her plain-spoken demeanor held a decidedly American flair.
Lily continued with the story and if Daisy cast Sarah a few inquisitive glances, no one else seemed to notice and Sarah, for her part, kept that silly smile so firmly in place it felt as though her jaw might shatter at any moment.
Better your jaw than your heart, she told herself.
Once again her heart clenched painfully and she could have sworn she heard it say, Too late.
“Sarah, where have you been?” Her mother called to her from the other side of the room, where she was entertaining some of the other female houseguests. “You missed breakfast.”
“Sorry, Mother.”
Her mother tsked. “You’ve missed the gentlemen. Max has taken them all off to cut boughs so we might decorate for Christmastide.”
She hoped her smile was sanguine as she nodded. Theo would be off with the other men then. She had a reprieve. That was something, she supposed.
Her mother moved on, forgetting about Sarah’s belated arrival as she continued her own story about this morning’s excitement, leaving Sarah free to move about the room. Which she did. Aimlessly.
Everywhere she looked she saw merry party guests or friends all too excited to gush about Marigold’s next wedding—the grand event itself—which was to take place the next day. “Come, join me,” Abigail said. She’d been eyeing Sarah from her seat in the corner where she’d been reading a book. She patted the seat beside her and handed over the book the moment Sarah was seated. “Here,” she said, her voice filled with wry amusement. “It helps if you have a prop.”