Boundaries protected them, or so Elias told himself. He needed to finish his lessons and think about his future, not pine for a girl engaged to his cousin.
Their separation wouldn’t last forever. He and Josephine had agreed to resume their friendship once emotions dulled. Still, doing the right thing made him feel wrong.
With Christmas Eve came flurries and opulence. Partiers arrived after nightfall, their presence accompanied by the squeal of string instruments and Mrs. Darling’s last-minute alterations. Everyone put on their best behaviour, that is, the best one might expect.
“Attractive women at every turn. Oh, how I envy you,” Sebastian said. He promenaded through the garden, beholding his guests, ladies clothed in the finest muslin and satin, adorned with fur stoles, feather plumes, and ropes of pearls.
“Me?” Elias smirked. He followed Sebastian down a gravel path lined with torches, his nose tingling with scents of roasted nuts and cider.
As expected, the Darlings had transformed Cadwallader Park into a pleasure garden. Full-length mirrors glistened between topiaries, offering lavish reflections. Vendors scattered the grounds and served treats while performers juggled, twirled fire, and contorted their bodies into knots. Indeed, the event resembled a circus more than a ball.
“Why, yes. You may have your pick of them. I, of course, am no longer an eligible bachelor. My heart belongs to Miss De Clare,” Sebastian said with a sigh. He paused in front of a looking glass to retie his cravat.
“You changed your mind about her?” Elias clenched his fists as snowflakes drifted from the heavens and dusted his tailcoat.
“London enlightened me, dear cousin. What an education. I have abandoned my childish ways for good.” Sebastian chuckled, his eyes squinting to imply mischief. “The city taught me an important lesson, that we are never without options. Even what’s expected of us comes with . . . customization.” He finished adjusting his necktie. “I assure you I’m quite altered.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Elias mustered a smile and clasped his arms behind his back. He shivered as they explored the maze of mirrors, his chest aching with a pain so acute he struggled to remain upright. What had caused Sebastian’s newfound affection?
More so, what had taken place in London?
Elias halted when they passed a gilded mirror. His reflection stared back at him, stoic and startling with pale skin and a furrowed brow. He had trimmed his hair for the ball, leaving the dark curls to rest evenly against his forehead. The cut seemed a poor decision, for it made his features more pronounced. His jaw curved with sharp, chiselled edges. His body appeared long and angular in the fitted clothes Sebastian had given him.
The man in the glass didn’t match Lord Welby. He was new.
“You may benefit from befriending a smile, Elias. Women dislike sour-faced chaps.” Sebastian grinned and waltzed toward the main house, his breaths curling upward like smoke.
Elias straightened his jacket and moved through the whirl of snow. He stomped his boots against the icy gravel, each step relieving some of the pressure within him. He didn’t want to admit his ill will toward Sebastian, nor did he want to imagine Josephine with another man. But the feelings and thoughts poisoned him.
It all seemed odd—Sebastian’s confession, his sudden change of heart. Whatever had occurred in London gave him a plan. He intended to do something that involved Josephine.
Of what nature, Elias couldn’t be sure.
Shrubbery grew scarce as the path snaked out of the topiary maze into a garden dotted with stalls and performers. Elias quickened his step. He joined the river of guests as they floated between flower beds, their forms hidden beneath wool cloaks and hooded capes.
The cold seemed different tonight, almost hospitable. It did not pierce Elias’s clothes or burn his skin. It transformed Cadwallader Park into a frozen oasis. Icicles dangled from rosebushes. Torchlight shimmered across the thin layer of snow while steam plumed from vendors’ cauldrons, rich with the smell of cocoa.
Elias smiled. He should fetch a cup of hot chocolate for Josephine. She fancied the drink with cream and cinnamon, made thick enough to leave a milky moustache on her upper lip.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
Josephine stood beneath a frosted arbour a few yards to his left, surrounded by aristocrats. She borrowed three balls from an entertainer and cradled them in her gloved hands. Then she tossed the objects, fumbling to juggle them. One by one, the balls landed in the snow. Her audience cheered. She curtsied, laughing so hard her eyes squinted.
A lump clogged Elias’s throat. He watched Josephine catch snowflakes with her tongue. He remained a static onlooker as she captivated people with her antics. He didn’t want to spend his life here when she stood there. He belonged at her side. He belonged with her.
Fire billowed from a performer’s mouth, the flames sizzling as they collided with the air. Elias flinched. He glanced at Josephine, his stomach lurching when she met his gaze. Her expression softened. She gave a half smile and waved.
Their lives would continue like this, parallel, never intersecting. Josephine would become Mrs. Sebastian Darling. Elias would assume his father’s title. They could smile and wave as if not destined for heartbreak, but nothing would ever be the same, nor would it be what they wanted. Elias understood. He needed to sunder from her.
Better to hurt now than suffer later.
Josephine followed a group of girls to the hot-chocolate stall. She wore her bumblebee dress and a green cape, her curls pinned up with golden clips. She laughed again, and he recognized her laughter was medicine, but it was also rebellion. It broke down barriers.
It made the worst pains bearable.
Elias resumed his trek to the manor. He climbed onto a terrace and entered the ballroom through a set of patio doors, his neck prickling with sweat
