Foretold Heart

by Camille Oster

  "That was never my intention."

  "And what is your intention now, skulking around and waiting for me, hoping to catch me off guard? Well, I am on my guard against a man like you. You have made it perfectly clear you have no intention to marry, so why are you seeking intimacy that doesn't belong to you? What is your intention with that?"

  It was clear what she thought of him. She believed exactly what everyone else believed about him, without a shred of proof. Apparently, she took the kiss as the proof she had apparently been searching for, and she wasn't willing to give him the benefit of a doubt, even as he said his intentions were not dishonorable. She didn't care to listen and only sought to accuse him. It stung—deeply.

  "Then I am sorry for taking your time," he said with a curt nod. And then he withdrew, walking as normally as he could. Snow and ice were hell for a cane, but he tried his best.

  After all that time they had spent together, she refused to see him as he was and chose to believe the things people said. He had thought her better than that, but it seemed he had been wrong.

  Around the corner, he called for a hack and put this wasted venture behind him. It still stung, but he refused to let himself dwell on it. The hopes he'd had for her were dashed. What good was a friend, let alone a wife, who refused to listen to his intentions? Someone who ignored what he said and preferred to believe his detractors.

  There was no place for such a person in his life. Nothing hurt as much as quashed hope, he told himself. Perhaps he had been silly thinking there was good and justice in the world, because he had seen repeatedly that they were both in short supply. Or perhaps he had made the mistake thinking a woman of society would be anything but suspicious, accusing and shallow. Her lack of interest in his fortune had perhaps blinded him—given him hope.

  Returning to his house, he tried to find some level of peace, but his thoughts kept returning to her sharp statements. It was unjust and unfair, but she hadn't cared. No, there was nothing here for him. There was nothing in London society he enjoyed.

  Desperately, he searched for something that gave him meaning and the only thing he found was the railroad he was building. He was proud of that, and proud of what he had achieved. A major victory had been achieved with gaining this missing land, and construction could now start in earnest. Perhaps he would take on a more active role in building it. A better choice than sitting here and rotting with these horrid people.

  The carriage was packed by the afternoon and he set off to the northeast. A house could surely be rented somewhere nearby, where he could oversee the construction. It would likely take a few years, and with his attention, the project would thrive.

  Chapter 29

  "DID I DO THE RIGHT thing?" Sylvia queried, pacing in her room while Ester sat on the bed. The bad feeling inside her refused to shift. "All evidence pointed to it. Why do I feel so horrendous?"

  "You did what you felt was necessary. He had grabbed you and kissed you, just about in front of every person you know. What had he planned if you were caught?"

  "Well, he said his intentions were not to harm me."

  "He would say that, wouldn't he? It was never his intention, but men encounter countless things for which they have no intention. Because the consequences for him are practically none, and for you they would be devastating."

  "You're right," Sylvia said and kept pacing. "So why do I feel so bad."

  "Because you had to give him a severe dressing down."

  "He looked so hurt."

  "For all we know that was part of his ruse. Rogues are known for manipulating girls' feelings, aren't they? And if that was not his intention, he still needed to learn that he cannot behave that way. He should apologize and you need to stop worrying that you've hurt his feelings. You didn't do anything wrong. He did."

  "You're right," Sylvia said with a tight smile. She didn't like discord and this ill ease she felt was related to that. He needed to properly apologize and not try to catch her on the street.

  They hadn't told Andrew what had happened, because he couldn't be trusted to keep his temper. There was a good chance he might fly off the handle and go do something stupid like confront Lord Britheney. Sylvia was perfectly capable of dealing with this herself.

  At this time she didn't feel all that capable, because she was tortured with insecurities about how she'd reacted. On the merits, her reaction had been deserved, but it now felt harsh. But maybe that was simply part of the manipulation. She just didn't know.

  Perhaps the best thing to do was just to let it be, and to dismiss these misgivings she had. "Let's do something."

  "Shall we go to the chocolatier?"

  The last time she had been there, Sylvia had wondered if she was too mature for those old habits, but right now, there was comfort in those old routines. "Alright, but Andrew is not coming. I don't want to spend every single minute with my brother. You were my friend before you became obsessed with him."

  "I'm not obsessed with Andrew."

  "Were you not just thinking about asking him to come to our chocolatier with us?" Ester's blush was all the answer she needed. "Don't get me wrong. I am not opposed to the idea of you and Andrew. I just don't want to sit there and watch you two making moon faces at each other. It makes for the dullest conversation." It really did. There was nothing worse than watching them be overly polite with each other and absently stare into each other's eyes. People in love were simply trying on everyone else.

  It was mildly sunny when they made it outside, walking arm and arm down the street toward the Mall. There were quite a few people out due to the milder weather and as expected, quite a few of their friends were gathered in the chocolatier shop.

  It had actually been a while since Sylvia had seen many of them. Not counting the ball, as she put together most of the invitation list. They sat down and ordered from the thin and neat Frenchman who ran the shop.

  "And what a marvelous house," Cassandra said. "I could stare at the ceiling all night. Wasn’t it gorgeous?"

  "I spoke to the Duke of Wellington," Eloise said. "Very cordial."

  Sylvia realized they were talking about Lord Britheney's ball.

  "My mother says everyone is trying to catch his eye," Olivia said.

  "The Duke of Wellington?" Ester asked.

  "Britheney. He's richer than sin. But when my aunt sent an invitation around the other day, they weren't being accepted because Britheney wasn't there and there was no word when he is coming back."

  "What do you mean?" Sylvia asked, that ill ease she'd been trying to shake reasserting itself.

  "He's left London, apparently. That was the indication his retainer gave. No word when he was coming back."

  "Maybe he is returning to his country house for Christmas," Cassandra added.

  "Apparently he has no family at all," Eloise said. "Must make for a lonely Christmas."

  Ester was sneaking looks at her and Sylvia was ignoring her. She certainly didn't want these girls to think there was any kind of familiarity between her and Britheney.

  "So how was it you were greeting guests with him at the ball, Sylvia?" Olivia asked. That hadn't gone unnoticed, apparently.

  "Andrew met him at one of the clubs he goes to, so we have gotten to know him a little. I offered to help him identify the people arriving. It would be so awkward if he didn't know anyone's name."

  They all stared at her and she quickly took a sip of the thick, sweet liquid placed down in front of her.

  "You are so lucky. What's he like?"

  "I only really helped identify people. I don't really know him," Sylvia lied. Well, technically it was true. In the scheme of things, she barely knew him—beyond some playful banter. "A very serious man, I think. He was an officer for a very long time."

  "A Waterloo hero," Cassandra said with a sigh. "And so handsome. I wonder if anyone at the dance caught his eye. As far as I could see, he danced with absolutely no one."

  "He has a severely injured knee," Sylvia said.

>   "Oh yes, that's right, isn't it? What a shame. I do so like a dance."

  "Well, while you are planning your wedding to Lord Britheney, we'll get on with talking about other interesting news. Such as Ester dancing all night with Andrew Bellworth. Care to fill us in?"

  Ester was glowing red and she smiled guiltily. Sylvia wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. "We are good friends."

  "He hardly seemed to leave your side. Don't think we didn't notice. Such a catch."

  This time Sylvia couldn't hold back an eye-roll.

  "Might be a wedding coming up in your house soon," Eloise said and nudged her in the side with an elbow.

  For some reason, hearing it seemed disturbing, because it signified change. A permanent change, which meant a chapter of their lives was ending, and a new starting. Things would most definitely change if Andrew and Ester married. Granted, it was inevitable, but it was sad too. They had so much fun being together most days, but Ester's attention and loyalty were shifting to her brother. He was to be her new best friend and confidante. It was a natural evolution, but it was still sad in a way.

  At least she wasn't marrying some ogre who was going to hide her away in the country to never be seen again.

  *

  Days passed and there was no letter from Britheney. No apology, no communication at all. Perhaps not surprising as he wasn't in London at the moment. Was it terrible that she missed the sparring that had existed between them? The kiss she absolutely refused to think about, because her stomach seemed to drop each time she did.

  But his utter lack of communication, an apology, was making her angrier. It would serve as a starting point to their reacquaintance, but it seemed as though he didn't care. It was disappointing.

  Soon a week passed. Surely he was back by now.

  As per usual, Andrew was looking sickly in the morning, having returned late. He looked pale and wasn't touching his food. No sympathy from her. He had absolutely done this to himself.

  "How was your evening?" she asked tartly.

  "Wonderful," he said. "Maybe went on a tad long."

  "I'll say." It must have been past three in the morning when he'd returned. "You know you really have to stop behaving like a young cad if you’re going to continue giving Ester ideas."

  "What ideas?"

  Sylvia just stared at him. "You know exactly what ideas, Andrew. Everyone has noticed."

  He shrugged and chewed absently on his sausage.

  "I swear I am going to shove that spoon down your throat in a moment."

  Finally he cracked a smile. "What are you trying to say, that I have to marry her now?"

  "Yes!"

  "Fine, I will. You are so pushy!"

  Sylvia stared at him. "Have you proposed to Ester?"

  "No, I am sure you would have heard about it if I had."

  "But you are going to?"

  "Yes, I'm going to."

  Sylvia couldn't breathe for a moment. "Oh my Lord. Mother!" she yelled.

  "Please don't yell like that, Sylvia," her mother said with exasperation as she walked into the dining room.

  "Andrew is going to propose to Ester."

  Her mother gasped and then rushed over and kissed him repeatedly on the face. "Oh, Andrew, how exciting."

  The excitement went on for some time, until everyone in the family was in accord with the plan. "And you are not coming with me," Andrew finally said, pointing to Sylvia. "I am not having any of you gawking at me. Darn, I need to buy a ring, don't I?"

  "It is customary," Sylvia said.

  "I have just the thing," Mother said and disappeared from the room. "A family heirloom."

  While she was gone, Sylvia sighed and then looked at her brother. "You haven't seen Lord Britheney around in your travels through London's gin palaces, have you?"

  "Not for a while. I've heard he's left London. Don't know anything beyond that."

  "Right," Sylvia said with a nod, then smiled again as her mother returned with a black velvet pouch.

  "This belonged to my great aunt." Her mother excitedly said.

  Chapter 30

  LEAVES WERE JUST BUDDING on the trees outside and Ester was busily preparing for the wedding. Chaos had reigned in both houses for the last few days and today was the wedding itself. Nerves were fraying, but Ester was as happy as Sylvia had ever seen her. Looking back, it seemed to all have happened so fast.

  In another way, time had crawled. The letter she had written to Lord Britheney had gone unanswered. His house was closed and no one even knew where he was. He could even have left the country.

  She never would have said the things she'd said if she'd known it would result in him disappearing completely. Although she had told herself a hundred times that his absence from London could have nothing to do with her. Sadly, it just didn't feel that way.

  An invitation to the wedding had been sent to him and no reply had come back. Being that he wasn't for social fineries, it might not occur to him to reply, but she hoped he'd come to the wedding. If he were to show for anything, it would be a wedding, wouldn't it?

  With a sigh, she helped Ester dress her hair with flowers. She looked beautiful. Radiantly happy. Through the mirror, Ester looked back at her. "I'm sure he'll be there," she said, reading her thoughts. Ester knew what occupied her mind, even though she had queried so many times why Sylvia didn't just let it go.

  It just felt too important to let go. Firstly, she'd worried that she'd lost a friend. Later on, she had worried about someone she'd liked more than just a friend. If he'd been a rogue, he wouldn't have reacted such, would he? He wouldn't have cared, but her accusations seemed to have cut him deeply, and for that, she was inordinately sorry. Even if there was no hope even of friendship, she didn't wish him chased away from London and his house.

  Smiling tightly, she looked back at Ester. "Of course," she said, but she feared she had no confidence in him being there—only a persistent hope.

  A thousand times she'd run through her head what she would say to him, to explain herself. In hindsight she saw how her accusation could hurt him as she'd basically compared him to his father. All this for a kiss—one she had even liked.

  She had let fear claim her—had listened to his enemies and not even given him an opportunity to explain his side. And then he'd left, obviously feeling as if there was nothing to salvage here. And it was her fault.

  "He might even be there right now."

  Sylvia hoped so. Then she would have a chance to set things right. "I think you are ready," Sylvia said, taking in the sight of her friend, whom she had never seen so beautiful. Andrew had made a good choice—for once in his life. "Are you sure you want to marry my brother? Do you remember that time he put a boiled lolly up his nose and couldn't get it out again?"

  "That was years ago. You really do need to try to see him as a man."

  "I think he will always be a little brother to me. But I couldn't place him in better hands. I know you will be happy." The prophecy in that regard was true. The prophecy in her own, if it had ever been meant to be, she had royally screwed up.

  "I know so too. Can you believe this day has come? For a while I doubted it would."

  "I didn't. And if Marcus Sousey is too stupid to be kicking himself right now, then there is no hope for him."

  "I don't know what I ever found so attractive about him."

  "Can't say I do either," Sylvia added. "Alright, it's time. I'll go call the carriage."

  Downstairs, Ester's parents were waiting. Sylvia told them they were ready. By the look of it, they were as nervous as Ester was, although she had no idea why any of them were. This did seem like the most natural union in the world.

  Ester's mother couldn't contain herself as Ester walked down the stairs. "Look at my little girl," she said. "All grown up and ready to leave us."

  "I am only going to be a block away. I can come see you every day."

  The older woman waved away her silliness and they helped Ester down the stairs and into the c
arriage. It was perhaps strange that Sylvia was a bridesmaid to her own brother's bride, but there was nothing for it. Edgar was his best man and they had both looked green that morning after Andrew's last night of freedom. Alexander milled around too.

  Looking at him now, Sylvia couldn't even fathom her momentary belief that she should marry Alexander. Seeing him that morning had solidified that such a union would never happen, and he had a similar interest in her. She would never be anything more than Andrew's sister in his eyes.

  It didn't take long for them to reach the church, that looked quiet on the outside, except for her father waiting for them. He and Mr. Mitchell shook hands. They would all be family now and Sylvia had to swallow a lump rising in her throat. This was not the time to get maudlin, so she calmed herself as they walked into the church.

  It was full of people and her eyes scanned the space for Lord Britheney, but she couldn't see him. It was so crowded she could have missed him though.

  The ceremony went perfectly, the vicar instructing them on the importance of family for support and trust, kindness and meaning. All the things she had failed to show Britheney. It was painful to hear, but she quickly put that aside as they performed the vows, and then it was done, they were married. Ester was her sister.

  They both beamed with happiness and the gathered witnesses clapped. Again she searched the crowd, but didn't see him.

  "He's not here," Andrew said. "I'm sorry."

  That hope she'd had deflated inside her. This was the one chance when he would actually come, and he'd chosen not to. Or the invitation had failed to reach him. Either way, he was out of touch and sought to remain so. "I see," she said and tried to smile as cheerily as she could.

  Andrew and Ester received congratulations from everyone they knew as they slowly made their way out of the church. They were traveling to the continent in a few days. To Bavaria of all places. Why her brother wanted to see Bavaria, she had no idea, but it was the destination he'd chosen.

  For now, though, they would go home and feast. Celebrate well into the night. Sylvia didn't feel like celebrating, but she forced herself to lighten her mood. It was the one and only time her brother would marry, and it may well be the only time they had a marriage in the family.