Page 104 of The Girl Out of Time
A part of him, yes. But not the whole. Without Wescott, he’d still be himself. A different version, perhaps, but himself nonetheless. He’d still love his family in France; he’d still like to fall asleep under the stars on a warm summer night, and ride horses, and play vingt-et-un with Jean-Baptiste …
And he’d still love Emmeline, even though in that reality, he’d probably never have met her.
“You weren’t the one to raise me,” Theo said.
“Only because your loggerhead of an uncle wouldn’t let go of you.”
“You won’t speak like this of Uncle Gustave.” Theo kept his voice calm, even though a stormy sea began to rage inside of him. If it weren’t for that rage, he’d find his sudden rebellion amusing … fascinating. He’d known of his destiny his entire life. It was a given, as much as breathing and walking without thinking.
But now, after that kiss yesterday, after Emmeline’s admission, Wescott’s plans for him no longer felt like a fated, secure future.
They felt like a prison.
Wescott leaned closer. “The best thing you uncle’s ever done was agree to my proposition.” He pulled a book from the side and slammed it open on the desk, indicating the conversation was over. “You’re free to go.”
Free. If only.Theo got up and left without another word, letting his feet take charge as he mulled over the conversation. The worst about Wescott and his argument was that he was right. Even if Theo excluded himself from the equation, there was still the financial aid to Uncle Gustave and the whole family—aid that Wescott gave because of Theo, but it still helped all of them. How many times in the years when crops failed would they have gone hungry if Wescott hadn’t helped? How much worse would Aunt’s eyesight have gotten if she were forced to mend more clothes by thefailing daylight instead of being able to buy new ones when needed? And Jean-Baptiste—he’d have never discovered he liked natural sciences if Theo hadn’t convinced his tutor to teach his cousin, as well.
He didn’t only owe himself to Wescott. He owed his family, too.
“Leon?” Cass’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. Her head barely peeked out of a massive bouquet of roses on the table in the parlor. Make that bouquets. As Theo approached, and more of the room opened up, he realized every free inch of every table was besieged with flowers.
“What happened?” he asked, the ridiculous view lightening up his mood.
“Balls happened.” Cass pursed her lips and removed a card from the bouquet. “To Lady Cassiopeia. You shine like the sun at midday. Mr. Alterton.”
“Oof.”
“It’s not even the worst one.” She sat down on the sofa and supported her chin with her hand. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in sorting the bouquets out, worst to best?”
Theo beheld the selection. “The thistle one. Easily the worst.”
“I know! I think he was trying to be unique.”
He sat down next to her. “If it’s of any consolation, it’ll be over soon. The dinner is next week; Uncle will present me, and your admirers will find you a lot less relevant.”
She cast him an amused side glance. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Will you miss it?”
“The attention? Not in the slightest.” But as light as her voice was, her eyes hid a shadow underneath.
She’d been nothing but kind to him since he’d arrived, but as they sat together in companionable silence, Theo wondered if she’d had just aslittle choice, as little say in the matter, as he did. He wanted to think not—she was Wescott’s only daughter, and surely he wouldn’t force her to do something she didn’t want. She was his blood.
“Cass,” he started, but then she looked at him and smiled, and he wavered. What did he intend to do—sow doubts into her mind? Wasn’t him being rattled enough already? “Thank you,” he said instead.
The anger, boiled down now to merely a simmer, still whispered inside him.Prison. Prison.But he swallowed it down.
“Thankyoufor keeping me sane. I don’t know who else I’d talk to otherwise.”
Emmeline’s words, so similar, from a few nights ago, echoed in his mind, making his heart squeeze. He forcibly brushed them away and clapped his knees. “Bouquet ranking, then?”
“Let’s do it.”
***
“Lady Evans’s musical, but only if you want to be deaf for the next two days—which you might, especially if you intend to go to Davenports’ dinner afterward …” Louisa lowered the invitation into her lap. “Emmeline? Are you listening?”
“Yes,” Emmeline said, not sounding convincing even to herself. Where had she been? Not in the present, sitting with Louisa in Sebastian’s parlor, picking out invitations. No, she’d been miles away, thinking about the museum and how Theo had kissed her like he was drowning and she was his air, then left without aword—
