“Not where I should’ve been,” he whispered. His lungs burned as if there was an ocean of silence between him and Josephine, and he was drowning in it.
She reached for his hand.
Elias curled his fingers around her knuckles. Mrs. Darling and Lady Welby would notice the touch, but Elias didn’t care. He didn’t need to care. Sebastian had broken the engagement, which freed Josephine to marry whomever she desired.
“We must remain hopeful,” Mrs. Darling said with a sigh. “Perhaps our husbands will discover Sebastian and Widow De Clare before—”
“I fear it’s too late. They could be married by now.” Lady Welby glanced at Elias, her expression harsh and indignant as though she blamed him for the affair.
Josephine shivered.
“Move closer to the fire,” Elias said. “I’ll get you something warm.”
“Stay.” Josephine gripped his arm, her fingernails cutting into his sleeve. She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “Please don’t go. I’m fine, really. Just a chill.”
In the pain, in the loneliness, sometimes all one needed was to feel seen.
Elias nodded and gestured to the maid. “Would you ask Mrs. Capers to make a fresh pot of tea? And blankets—would you fetch a warmed blanket for Miss De Clare?”
The maid curtsied, then hurried to complete the tasks.
“Sebastian better not return with her,” Mrs. Darling said with a scoff. She waved her forefinger at the room’s exit. “I shan’t let her through the front doors.”
“Your son will inherit this house—”
“Not until Mr. Darling rests in a deep grave!”
Josephine stood and wandered toward a window. She parted its curtains with a jerk, her gaze drifting beyond the frosted glass. No longer did she beam joy and brightness. She seemed like firewood reduced to ash.
“Poor girl,” Lady Welby whispered. “This will ruin her.”
“What do you mean?” Elias rose from his crouched position. He sat on the chaise lounge and stared at Josephine’s back, her neat bun and wrinkled muslin gown.
“Scandal makes spinsters of the loveliest girls,” Mrs. Darling said.
Elias clutched his mouth and released hot breath against his palm. He wished to ignore Mrs. Darling’s remark, but her words implied a universal fact, that reputation served as currency. It could not be purchased, yet it bought one’s place in the world.
Josephine had used her family’s reputation to navigate the upper class despite her lack of fortune. Without it, she possessed only manners and charm—traits which Lord Welby deemed insufficient. No gentleman would make her an offer of marriage. No respectable family would seek her company. In the eyes of society, her mother’s affair had become her own.
The scandal couldn’t ruin Josephine. Elias refused to let Sebastian and Widow De Clare come between them, for they were so close to forever. Perhaps his father would understand. Perhaps news of the affair wouldn’t spread, and Josephine would be spared from shame.
Lord Welby had experienced such dishonour, however, and by his own doing, hence his astute opposition to matters of impropriety. No, of course he would not favour Elias’s affection for someone tainted with ill repute. Instead, he’d once again recommend Miss Wood as a suitable match, for she was well disposed and without spurned parents.
Elias wouldn’t marry anyone but Josephine. He promised himself. He resolved before God to follow through with his proposal. Lord Welby might disapprove, but he had only one heir. Would he really disinherit Elias for marrying a De Clare?
After years of boarding school and gentleman lessons, Elias had learned society was a game in which everyone played their best cards. Each person fought to win, to rise in station, reach the top—because if one did not climb, one fell to the bottom. And those who dwelt at the bottom were forgotten like pebbles tossed into a lake. But another game was also played. The game between fathers and sons, lords and heirs. ’Twas a game Elias knew well.
He was ready to play his best cards.
When the maid returned with a tea tray and blanket, Elias called to Josephine. She didn’t respond. Instead, she leaned her head against the window, her breath fogging the pane. Was she afraid her mother’s wrongdoing abrogated Elias’s proposal? Or was she paralyzed by shock?
Elias went to her and said for her ears alone, “I won’t change my mind.” He wanted to rescue her from the pain, remind her of when they raced across heaths and rolled down hills. He longed to fill the room with gorse garlands to prove his feelings were unaltered. He loved her. He intended to marry her. Reputation wouldn’t divide them again.
For hours they waited in the drawing room. Mrs. Darling and Lady Welby embroidered while Elias tried to coax Josephine from the window. Not long after nightfall, hooves pounded up the estate’s snowy drive, the sound like music after such a quiet day.
Everyone rushed to the foyer. They congregated near the front door, a hush descending over them as Lord Welby and Mr. Darling entered the house.
“Did you find them?” Mrs. Darling asked.
“Yes,” Lord Welby said as he removed his coat and gloves. “They’re married.”
“God have mercy.” Lady Welby clutched her mouth.
Elias struggled to breathe, his face beading with sweat. He could’ve stopped Sebastian and Widow De Clare from eloping. His few hours of silence had allowed the marriage.
He turned and studied Josephine, but her expression was unreadable, a wall of stone. She lifted her chin and blinked.
“We discovered them at a public house in Rothbury,” Mr. Darling said. He stomped to knock the ice from his boots. “Sebastian sends his regards.”
“That hateful child!” Mrs. Darling burst into tears. “Does he not realize what this will do to us? We’ll be laughingstocks.”
“Papa, did you find Sebastian?” Kitty and Fitz raced down the staircase, tripping over each other to reach their father. “What happened, Papa?”
“Your brother disgraced our family.” Mr. Darling rubbed his neck, perhaps stiff from riding in the cold. “I’ll speak more on the subject later. Right now I need a bath.” He groaned and staggered
