Elias struggled for air. He wanted to change their situation with a few words, but he could not propose without risking his inheritance. And what use would he be to Josephine without funds? Their lives hinged on the purse strings of others. Elias served Lord Welby. Josephine depended on the Darlings. Indeed, they were slaves to the roles given to them, caught between what they wanted and what they had to want.
“Let’s not pretend we can reverse our decisions,” Josephine said. “I was aware of Sebastian’s nature before I accepted the proposal. We attended the same parties, had the same friends. Remember that night you and I met—”
“Of course, Miss De Clare, but I fear mention of it would trifle with feelings I have struggled in vain to repress.” Elias bowed and left the room. He’d made peace with the prospect of heartbreak, yet it came for him with a vengeance.
It clawed through his body and made him sick.
He wanted to shove his fist through a wall or abandon Cadwallader Park. He wanted so many things, none of which compared to the girl he could not choose. Still, with all hope resting in his gut as sharp fragments, he knew one thing for certain.
There was no moving on, not from her.
A letter arrived days later. It was addressed to Mr. Darling but contained news involving Elias. According to its contents, Lord Welby had found a potential bride for his heir—a lady from royal stock, destined to inherit an annual sum of nine thousand pounds. She would attend the Darlings’ Christmas ball, where Elias would make his intentions known.
Lord Welby’s command did not invite debate. He desired the match, so it must be. Elias could devote his heart to Josephine, swear to love only her, but he would marry someone else. There was no avoiding it. His responsibilities demanded an advantageous marriage.
Mr. Darling reminded him of these facts. He listed all the reasons why Elias needed to obey Lord Welby and wed for money, status, and whatever else drew the public’s attention. Reasons that included the words bastard and scandal.
Josephine had been right all along. Still, Elias refused to feel less, for moving on from her wasn’t an option. He would learn to live without, and perhaps loving from a distance—being Josephine’s friend—would make his father’s will bearable.
Or perhaps it would ruin him completely.
“Hurry before she catches us.” Fitz bolted from Josephine’s bedroom. He slid into the hallway and tripped on a carpet runner, slamming his small body against a table. “Dickens!” He rubbed his elbow and grinned, showcasing the gap between his two front teeth. Injury seemed his comrade, proven by the bruise beneath his left eye, his scabbed knees, and dirty fingernails.
“Oh dear, Fitz. Don’t say that.” Elias stepped out of the chamber and eased its door shut. He plucked a yellow petal off his waistcoat.
“Why not? Our valet says it all the time.” Fitz inspected his limbs, perhaps to ensure the accident did not damage his clothes. Mrs. Darling refused to purchase him new outfits, for he soiled and ripped his garments on a regular basis.
“Because he’s not a gentleman like you,” Elias said.
“I don’t want to be a gentleman.” Fitz groaned, squirming when Elias grabbed his collar and dragged him down the east wing corridor. Their scheme had occupied the entire morning, which prevented Fitz from building forts with Kitty. He hadn’t minded the sacrifice when Elias let him sneak around, but no number of secrets and surprises could surpass the thrill of playtime.
“What do you want to be, then?” Elias glanced over his shoulder. No one had seen them enter or exit Josephine’s bedroom, and they’d been careful not to leave a mess. What could ruin the gesture? More importantly, how would Josephine respond to it?
“A pirate.” Fitz punched Elias’s stomach and sprinted ahead, his feet drumming the floorboards. He screamed when Elias chased after him.
“Get back here, you rascal, or I’ll give you to Mrs. Capers,” Elias yelled. He dashed past frosted windowpanes and rooms that filled his nose with scents of starch and potpourri.
“Capital! Mrs. Capers gives me sweets.” Fitz raced through a gallery toward the manor’s west wing. His copper hair danced like flames, and his stomps rattled the house. Despite his and Elias’s previous caution, their presence could no longer be unnoticed.
“Hello?” Josephine’s voice drifted from the nearby annex.
“Don’t squeal.” Elias tossed Fitz over his shoulder and ducked into a linen room. He lowered the boy onto a stack of sheets. “Keep quiet. We can’t let Josephine find us.”
“Because of the surprise?” Fitz scrunched his nose.
“Yes. Don’t say a word about it.” Elias peered into the passageway, a flutter sweeping through him when Josephine appeared, dressed in a white muslin gown and her mother’s shawl.
“Kitty and I built the fort,” she yelled.
“I want to play in the fort.” Fitz kicked Elias’s shin and reached for the door.
“Shush.” Elias clamped his hands over the boy’s mouth. He watched Josephine approach, his mind flashing to the memory of her in the entrance hall, alone on the checkered floor, like a single dancer on a vast stage. That morning had changed them. Their conversation had altered the very nature of their friendship, and they were forever different.
“Fitz, is that you?” Josephine stopped. Her gaze lingered on the linen room as if she sensed the boys’ presence. She would discover them eventually. How could they explain their behaviour without revealing the secret?
“Pretend I’m not here.” Elias shoved his cousin into the hallway. Everyone knew about the boy’s shenanigans—how he hid in obscure places and frightened the staff. Another scare attempt would raise no suspicions.
“Oh, hello.” Josephine gawked at Fitz. “What were you doing in there?”
“We’re playing hide-and-go-seek,” he said. “I lost.”
“Have you found Elias yet?” Josephine eyed the cracked door. She lifted the boy’s chin and examined his face. “Were you really playing a game, Fitz?”
“Will you get mad if I lie?”
“I’m
