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.
This time, there was nothing to stop her from leaving, no bad weather or sudden news or wild revelations.
And no Rafe, running after her, begging her not to go.
As the carriage trundled down the driveway, she twisted to catch her final view of Brinkley End. Nobody was watching her, and no one waved goodbye, and too late she remembered the bishop and Sally and Martha, but they were not there, and neither was Rafe, and nothing even seemed to care that she was gone.
Chapter 24
Twenty-two hours since Thea had gone. Rafe tapped at the window, and looked past his own ghostly reflection to picture the road to London. He wondered where she had spent the night, and if she had thought of him in her bed. Or maybe she was driving through without stopping, given her haste to reach her filthy, beloved London and her fickle, beloved family, and her futile, beloved pamphlet.