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The stigma of a widower
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Light green eyes followed him around as he changed into his recently cleaned jacket. Thomas side looked at the irate expression of his sister, she was sitting on an exquisite love-seat, in her hands rested an opened book... but her icy glare was trailed on him. Thomas let out a sigh, he knew why she was being like this.
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"How long?"
"I'll come back for supper,"
"You know that's not what I meant!"
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She stood, and walked to him. Thomas nailed himself in place, he looked down and waited for his sister to stand before him. Forcefully, she lifted his head and searched his eyes. He took a long breath, and sustained the glare the best he could.
"How long until you propose? How long until you end this ridiculous charade and we can return to England?" She let go of his face, but Thomas didn't dare to avert his eyes from her own. "We are not staying in this bloody hotel for free Thomas! Money is running out, and I still haven't heard of Carter Cushing inviting us to discuss an engagement,"
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It had only been a week. Thomas resisted the urge to make a scowl, they had stayed for longer in other places. No, this wasn't because of the lack of money; Lucille was starting to notice.
"I'll propose today,"
"You better do this," she started pacing, "Your contract for your machine hasn't even been signed yet, and I'm starting to lose patience. Now... not even if we came crawling back at the stupid pumpkin of Eunice could we salvage the McMichael train-wreck!"
"Lucille, don't-" but at the look her sister sent his way, he stopped his previous sentence, "I'll get it done by today,"
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Her sister stopped, and her glare softened to show a compassionate and hurt expression. "I'm sorry, I'm discharging my frustration on you... and you don't even deserve it. It's just I can't stand it, this place, this people! I bet you can't stand it either; having to touch that woman, smiling to her irritating comments and ridiculous ideas..." Lucille looked distraught, and Thomas looked away.
Her ideas were not ridiculous. Of course Thomas couldn't say that; talking would mean explaining why they advanced so little in the past couple of days. Explaining their delay would only unnerve his sister further. Never before had Thomas felt so guilty, having to hide this unsightly part of him, one that would dare to lie to his beloved sister, one that trembled in fear at it's possible exposure.
Thomas felt a pressure on his cheek, he let his head be turned. Lucille's pained expression now showed a different emotion. Thomas shivered.
"You know I only want our happiness,"
"Yes, Lucille,"
"You know you can't do this without me,"
"... I can't," he said with finality; "I can't,"
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"And with these last details, we'll present the contract to my father tomorrow!"
Thomas lifted his gaze. He scolded himself, being so distracted was not like him. Yet, he couldn't let go of his sister's words, he couldn't help but feel he was betraying her and at the same time... he couldn't bring himself to stop.
Beside him, Amelia smiled. It was a gentle and understanding one, she was not bothered, "it seems you head is not here today. Is something wrong?" She frowned in worry, "Is Lucille alright?"
"She misses home," he said in an apologetic tone, "she feels like we are taking too long and also worries for our economy,"
"It must not be easy to live on your own... and with a family debt on your shoulders," she let out a sigh, "It makes me feel guilty, because I was hoping you accompanied me to meet someone today," she gave him a little smile, "But it doesn't matter, if it's not a good time I can-"
"It will be alright. She's irate, not desperate," Thomas said fast, "and your insistence has my curiosity spiked. We could go, as long as it's not the zoo again-"
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She laughed, and Thomas let out a sigh, smiling. Slowly, the weight he felt that morning was leaving him. Lucille couldn't complain, the contract would be signed tomorrow. Today... they would have the scenery and mood for a marriage proposal. Passing his hand over the hidden pocket that contained his mother's ring, Thomas stood. Amelia stood right after, stacking the papers and leaving them in relative order. Once it was done, Thomas offered his arm and they walked together outside of the office.
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The past days have been like this. The contract advanced at a slow rate due to the unexpected invitations Amelia had prepared. They had gone to the zoo, the natural history museum, and even part of the Botanical garden. Thomas had thoroughly enjoyed himself, Amelia had sensible preferences in terms of spending her free time. She loved to learn and the enthusiasm for showing and asking all about history, biology and science had Thomas feeling refreshed.
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... so different to that rehearsed encounter with Eunice McMichael at the museum in London.
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So, in conclusion... he imagined today was going to be as interesting as the other days.
The trip wasn't long. They look the ferry and seemed to cross to another part of the city. Thomas couldn't help but admire the most modern buildings; he was getting used to the modern feeling of America! And he wished to remember it's difference for a long time. However, his curiosity started to turn into doubt when they arrived at an old but large building.
On first impression, it almost looked like a storage room, of those you often found in ports and large overseas trades or factories. The building was a little isolated, and it added to its ominous look.
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"Okay," he jumped Amelia had stopped walking and was now standing in front of him. "The person we're going to meet is a little...," she made a face, "picky, and we need to make the best first impression,"
It was surreal to hear her say that and check his attire. Not too long ago, he did the same thing to meet her father.
"Well, have I gotten your approval?" He joked, but Amelia was too serious to even smile. He swallowed some saliva.
"Don't flash anything with pearls, okay?" She said, dusting his chest. Her fingertips grazed his shirt collar and he restrained a smile. Then, she dusted herself and turned around. "Look at me... no pearls?"
What was this insistence with pearls? Thomas studied his female companion carefully. She had a dark brown dress with black embroidery. Her jewels were also modest... a gold chain with a medium sized agate; she wasn't using earrings. Thomas's curiosity spiked once again... who was this eccentric who hated pearls, color, and most important of all... had Amelia Cushing fretting?
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It better not be the President.
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"No pearls to be seen," Thomas concluded and Amelia turned in a swirl. She flashed him an excited smile and she grabbed his hand... squeezing it, "you're going to love this!"
She moved to loop her arm around his and strode forward. Thomas followed quietly, trying to hide his own excitement, and he took a deep breath when she gave a strong slap to the door and it opened.
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The first thing he saw was the moving metal beams from one side to another. Slowly, the strong light of morning was replaced by the darkness of the workshop. Thomas looked around, there were some women noting and scribbling over blueprints; there were workers fuzzing over a mushroom like form, a miniature one... and in between them was a man with elegant clothing. At least, that's what Thomas thought, since the trousers looked of excellent quality. The shirt also looked of good quality, but the sleeves were twisted and rolled up to his elbows. A woman approximated said man, he was giving them his back. After whispering something in his ear, the man straightened and turned to face them. The dark hair, the pale complexion, the scrawny figure and the blue-green eyes... much like his, studied them intently.
Thomas wasn't stupid, he recognized the man before him; but the world froze nonetheless.
"Ms. Cushing," The man acknowledged.
"Mr. Tesla," the woman said with a smile, and her hand extended.
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"I must say I was surprised to know you'd be coming, Miss Cushing," He commented, turning his eyes to Thomas, "And with company,"
"Mr. Tesla, let me present you a fellow inventor and a friend of mine, Thomas Sharpe," She smiled, "Thomas, Mr. Nikola Tesla,"
"It's an honor to meet you personally sir," Thomas sounded impressed, if not nervous. Amelia resisted the urge to grin. "I would have never guessed I'd find you were in Buffalo, I thought your laboratory was in Manhattan,"
"English man," He commented and Thomas nodded, smiling. "The pleasure is mine. To answer your question, I believe my laboratory is still there... If I'm not suddenly told otherwise," he rolled his eyes and Amelia couldn't hold it in. She broke into laughter. Leaning against Thomas, she hid her blushing face from the older inventor.
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Thomas looked confused, between laughs Amelia breathed in "His lab caught on fire 6 years ago,"
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"It didn't 'caught on fire'. It unjustly payed as collateral damage for other people's ineptitude," The man corrected, Amelia resisted another barrage of giggles. "Right now my endeavors are pointing to the fair here at Buffalo," he turned to Amelia, "And, despite your condition as my non-exclusive patron, I cannot show you my work before hand,"
"It's alright, I can take a hint;" she feigned deject, the man smirked, "Today I'm interested in your new oscillators," She lifted her eyebrows, "In particular the Steam oscillator,"
"You want to make an earthquake in Buffalo by any chance?" The tall man asked with confusion and Amelia tried her best to remain civil. Her mouth twisted, trying to look innocent, but the glint of mischievousness was there.
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"Should I take that as a yes?"
"With Amelia you'd never know. I have in mind some people she could use it against," Thomas commented and Amelia gasped outraged. He laughed, "Tell me if I'm wrong,"
"You are not wrong," Nikola Tesla said instead, and that made the English man smile. Amelia detected a little blush in his cheeks and she felt a pull in her heart.
"Thomas is an emerging inventor, mostly in the area of mining and large weight transport. The machine he has designed is amazing and it works on steam! However, I was considering better possibilities for energy and you already know where my preference lies," She said with a charming smile. Nikola Tesla made a face, the man was never welcoming of little flirts, but nodded and guided Amelia and Thomas farther away, where a large machine resided.
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"How long have you known Nikola Tesla?"
"Hmm... probably a year before the fire. Father knew him better than me, he was also looking funding like you, and his alternating current project had me fired-up! Even at the tender age of 18," She commented animatedly, "The lights on the hotel... they are from alternating current. I know most people trust Edison's direct current more, but that's only because that hateful man has undermined Tesla's work with that outrageous public campaign!"
"What would happen if I told you that I liked direct current better?" Thomas teased. Amelia turned to him, her eyes like saucers.
"Sir! I would be forced to change your mind!"
He laughed. To be sincere, today he was pleasantly surprised. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that he would meet one of the big inventors. He was only trying to pull his family business forward, he had no ambitions to compare himself to a full time inventor and scientist like Nikola Tesla, or Thomas Edison.
And yet, here he was. He had even shaken hands with the man.
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"You liked the surprise, didn't you?" Amelia asked, a satisfied smile on her face.
Thomas turned then, and moved to take Amelia's hand. Thinking he would kiss it, she smiled and lifted it a little more. Instead, he moved forward and gave her a peck on the cheek.
The reaction was instantaneous. Amelia Cushing grabbed her cheek with her right hand, and a healthy blush covered her face. Proud of himself, Thomas smiled, and Amelia mirrored that smile.
"Does that answer your question?"
"You, scoundrel!"
"Only when it's necessary,"
She laughed again. She was laughing so loud, it should bother him... Thomas knew it bothered his sister to no end and yet... sometimes he felt that he lived through that undivided happiness. They walked along another park, this one had more trees than flowers, and was the closest the could find by walking their way back to the center.
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"What are we to do now?"
"We could have a light lunch," she commented. "Before I forget again, my father is hosting a special dinner tonight. He was expecting to have the contract ready for tomorrow, so he prepared a dinner to welcome you as officially his business partner," she shoved a light fist against him, "it seems you've grown on him,"
A dinner. Thomas took another breath; it would have to be now or never. If he proposed now, then... he could officially ask for Amelia's hand tonight. It would be done, and his sister would stop worrying. At the same time, the contract would be signed, and maybe... if things went down smoothly, the money of the investment and Amelia's progressive ideas could finally help to finish that machine and then...
Then... they wouldn't have to kill Amelia.
"What would you like today? Mediterranean?" she asked, but at the lack of response, she turned worried. "Thomas?"
"Yes, it would be nice."
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"Really... You'd like to eat Chinese?" she teased, he frowned.
"I heard you, you said Mediterranean."
"Sorry, I thought that I lost you there. I wanted to make sure you heard me," She said with a snicker, "You've been quite spaced out today. Maybe you are a little tired, tell me! You know that I will always understand if that's the case."
But he didn't answer. Thomas remained serious and silent, something that he knew Amelia hadn't seen often when with her... and she sobered immediately. Taking advantage of that seriousness, Thomas guided Amelia to a bench. The sun was not strong, such was the climate in late summer at America, and the weather was a little windy. His apprehension caught on with him and suddenly, he lost all nerve. Thomas Sharpe took a deep breath and though, with some self-resentment, that even if he wanted to confess his love sincerely... he'd rather use the approach the had used so many times before.
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"I wanted this moment, to thank you for the day we had today and the week we've had together," he began, Amelia smiled "It has made me value your friendship more than anything. Never before have I met someone with whom I could share all of this, my thoughts and this adventures... the love for learning. But as I said before, it's not your friendship what I truly seek,"
As expected, the expression in the young woman's face soon changed from placidity to uncertainty. She shifted on the bench, and Thomas took her hands. "During these days, I've felt that... what we have, I wouldn't have it with anyone else; and that something is what I've been searching in a lifetime partner,"
"Thomas..." Amelia said, almost out of breath, and he rushed to kneel on the floor. Her expression was no longer of doubt, it had morphed to downright panic, and Thomas feared that if he wasn't fast enough... she would evade him again.
"I no longer have methods to express my feelings,"
"Thomas! Please..."
"I love you," he stressed and she was once again silent, "And I don't want to return to England without you by my side... as my wife," he moved to fish the ring out of his pocket.
That's when Amelia grasped his shoulders and moved to make him stand.
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"Please Thomas, sit," she requested. Thomas looked up, not being able to hide his own panic. "I can't give you an answer just yet. I asked for time; where... where is this all coming from?"
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He should have known. Thomas closed his eyes, wishing the darkness would take him away from this moment. Amelia had told him, but his need to reconcile his sister's wishes with his had taken him to this moment. He should have chosen Edith, he knew, and now he would have to bear his sister with the unwanted end to their plans.
He was a failure.
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"Thomas, look at me," almost reluctantly, the English man obeyed "I know this is a cruel form to stop you, but I need to understand," she said frowning in worry, "all this time, I thought you understood that I-"
"I did. And I hoped you could also understand my situation," Thomas said, standing up; Amelia followed suit. "I didn't come to England with the sole purpose of looking for a way to finance my invention. I'm a Lord, and as such, I should be married. I came to America looking for stability for our family, both with my work and with the union of marriage. When I first met Eunice, I believed her enthusiasm was something I could live with,"
"Certainly, not with much else," she commented, trying to defuse the tension. Thomas didn't let himself be moved.
"That was an aspect I thought I had solved and was only focused on my machine... when I met you, and you moved my heart," he posed his free hand over Amelia's, "I believe there's a link... between your heart and mine; and if I was ever certain to put my duty before my heart, now, my soul and my mind battles day by day with themselves."
"You once told me that you were willing to escape your own fears to not lose my friendship. But now I tell you I'm not willing to wait and leave and lose your heart for another man,"
Amelia blushed, surprised. "But there is no other-"
"There might be, my thoughts torment me each night. I don't dare to foresee the future, for anything might happen, and I would not be able to go with my life,"
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She moved to say something, but stopped mid-way. She looked down at his hands, and seemed to be in deep thought.
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"There was once a time... when I thought that I would remain single forever; that I would never marry... nor out of love, nor out of convenience," She raised her gaze at him, and Thomas had the impending urge to close his eyes once again; "I... I cannot say that I love you, not to the extent I wished I could. I can't say either that I'll wait for you to return, I can't phantom the future either. I'm like you, I don't want to lose you, and like that night... I'm willing to grant your desire;"
Thomas felt he could breathe again, until Amelia squeezed his hands "But let's be clear,"
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Her gaze suddenly gained intensity. There was a fire for war, that unyielding determination that he had feared, admired... and was fearing again. He sustained her gaze.
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"Even if your feelings are sincere, my family won't look at it that way. There is a matter of convenience in this marriage," Thomas moved to say something, but she stopped him, "And it's not to say I mind. I actually... wouldn't believe you if you told me that was not the case." She smiled.
"But it's not why I-"
"I know... I don't mind!" She said with a giggle. "But my father will, and so will the rest of the people behind me. Having said that... I'll marry you; but I'll talk to my family, this marriage will be respecting our terms... and our terms only,"
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Like a bird that regained flight, he regained his heartbeat, felt his muscles finally relaxing. His sister could kill him; the whole message hadn't registered on his mind. The only thing that mattered was that Amelia had accepted. Imperceptibly, he had started to form a smile, and was pulled back to reality when Amelia put her hands in his cheeks.
The intensity of her gaze, was like looking into the eyes of a lion.
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"I don't want lies between us,"
"There'll never be,"
"I don't want false pride between us,"
"Whatever I had, I have no longer,"
She remained silent. Thomas had answered out of love, without measuring the weight of his words. Minutes passed, filled with torture, until Amelia smiled.
"I'll talk to my father first, and we'll formalize this proposal tonight at dinner. I can only hope you'll wait for me,"
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He felt his hands be moved to show the ring that was almost forgotten between them. With a shaky hand he moved to put the ring on her finger and then he clutched said hand against his chest as soon as he could. Protected, from the whole world.
He was going insane.
Amelia moved to kiss him on the cheek. A modest acceptance of their arrangement. However, his heart would have none of it. He moved at the last moment, and both lips locked into a tender kiss. Amelia wide eyed, clearly surprised, and Thomas could feel her smiling trough the kiss.
He would have none of it either.
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He deepened the kiss; his mouth slightly opening so that the tip of his tongue tasted the freshness of her lips. She stopped resisting, and mimicked the action with her own tongue. The kiss was not passionate, still not the dance of mouths he, during his youth and up to that moment, despised. Letting out a sigh, he let his hands travel to her neck and once again his eyes half closed, trying to concentrate his senses only on the contact of skin.
Amelia was the one to part with a silent gasp. Thomas hid his face from the world between her long winged hat and the back of the bench.
"This is inappropriate," she commented, her tone showed only showed playful malice.
"Then let's hide it from the world,"
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Amelia left Thomas some minutes later, but only after another playful kiss.
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The lunch arrived to nothing. Thomas was too excited and eager to tell his sister the good news to stay put, and Amelia preferred to prepare everything and test water back at home to drop the sudden bomb. They parted amicably, taking different carriages to different directions.
She should feel happier. The way Thomas looked elated moved her heart, she would hate herself forever if she had not accepted his request for marriage... but in all honesty. She could not feel the same.
She wasn't sure why, but as the carriage arrived at home and as she entered and greeted Jane and the housekeeper, a strange pressure formed in her chest, a lump that made her feel tired, cold, and scared. It felt as if you wanted to jump a waterfall, but once you've made it to the top the only thing you wanted was to be out of there; out of marriage.
She didn't want to get married.
But she couldn't also leave Thomas hanging forever. She had given him hope, he had opened up his heart; she had broken her sister's heart and defied many people's views... for nothing?
No, she was getting married, she would carry on with plans, and this uncomfortable feeling would go away.
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Amelia could barely register the sullen looks if some maids as she made her way to her father's studio. Assuming Edith was sulking again, she decided to ignore it, a d knocked on the door with purpose. Hearing his voice as command for her to enter, she moved to greet her father with a smile.
But it slowly disappeared.
Beside him was William Ferguson. The sullen expressions of the men were accompanied by a pair on yellowed envelopes, each man held one. Amelia approximated without saying a word and she posed her eyes on the sender.
It was the signature of Mr. Holly
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Though it was not raining, it was a starless night.
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Thomas was on one side of the carriage, Lucille on the other. Despite having fulfilled what she most wanted, the female was as morose and afflicted as if she's been sentenced to death.
This should not be a surprise, Thomas thought, since Lucille often requested what she didn't want, only to blame him for it later. She was in pain, for the feeling she harbored for him, for the fact that this time around, she hated his new wife with undivided passion, and that translated in la life so miserable that it was not worth living.
For his part, Thomas own happiness was not important. Maybe he wanted to keep Amelia by his side as long as he could, Lucille would see that didn't happen. Maybe he wanted for Amelia to grow on Lucille and finally remain by their side forever, one twisted part of him wished to believe the woman would come to understand and also accept this part of him. That would never happen, and Lucille wouldn't tolerate it either.
He could feel his heart filling with that muck, that hideous sensation of pain, of self-disgust and yet... of satisfaction.
Indeed, he was a monster, that could not be stopped before his lost fervent desires.
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"Sir, madam, we have arrived," the coach man said. Thomas stood in a jump and moved fast to open the door and offer a hand to the older Sharpe. As she descended, he paid the coach and it left soon after.
Thomas and Lucille stepped up those narrow stairs for a second time now, and suddenly...
He was filled with apprehension.
What if Amelia's father refused her hand to him? What if Edith intervened, saying it was not meant to be? What if Carter Cushing made him choose between the investment and his marriage?
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What if he conditions their union in such a way that they would not share fortunes?
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No, he could not think like this. His mind could provide for all the "ifs" in the universe, and it would only make loose his nerve. He had to appear strong and decisive before that harsh man, or he'll be disregarded as he had once been when he met him.
The butler answered, without a smile nor a greeting, the tall man conducted them inside.
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And Thomas suddenly felt something was not right.
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He expected to find some noise, more light, and the sweet aroma of wine or food. Instead there was silence, darkness, and the aromatic scent of burnt tobacco. He turned to the butler, subtly asking what was going on, the man inclined his head in courtesy.
"Mr. Cushing will be waiting for you upstairs, Sir and Madam,"
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And without another word, he started going down the hall.
Only the father? Thomas frowned and turned to look at his sister, who had planted a gentle smile... nothing but a facade. Taking a breath, be stilled himself and prevent to fall into panic. Nothing had changed, Amelia loved him.
Amelia had accepted.
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Without preamble, the butler opened the door to reveal a small office or studio and at the center was standing Carter Cushing.
"Sir Thomas, Lady Lucille. Good evening," he greeted, but his tone was as stiff and hard as it had been the first time he met him.
"Mr. Cushing," Thomas said with respect. "I was led to believe that tonight-"
"My daughter is a little indisposed, the dinner has been cancelled,"
"Amelia? Is she alright?" He moved fast to ask, but to no avail, the older man didn't answer right away. He moved to grasp an envelope that he had in his desk.
"She's resting. That's not why I called you here; you see, when we first met... I imagined it wasn't hard for you to realize that I didn't like you,"
"You left that clear Sir,"
"And yet... I couldn't deny my pigeon the opportunity to be generous. Not because you represent an amazing business; no. Because she felt that she was helping someone in need, and charity should never be denied,"
Charity? Thomas clutched his fist, resisting the urge to snap at the old gentleman. He wondered, where was Amelia, What had happened to her?
Why her father was telling him this.
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"Mr. Cushing, could you speak plainly?"
"Oh I will speak plainly, Missy. Maybe plainer that you may like," the man answered to Lucille, he had unfolded the papers, "your brother has been indulging in my daughter's kindness with too much liberty..."
"Sir I know that what I possess is very little but-"
"But what? Sir Thomas? You are in love with her? That you believed she loved you back?" Thomas frowned, and Cushing only allowed a turn of the lips before continuing, "For your sake we've discussed too many times; she wondering why I didn't like you. This! Is why I don't ..."
His eyes focused on something on the left. The papers. Thomas looked at Lucille, revealing only to her the fear he was experiencing. He was met with a harsher stare, she was furious and resolute. Thomas took the papers in his hands and read through them rapidly.
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It was a marriage registry.
From Milan.
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Thomas looked at the older man.
"Would you look at that. I'd wonder what Amelia would say if she saw that expression on your face,"
"Does she know?"
"Of course she does," he said with a chuckle, he turned to reach his desk again so Thomas couldn't see his face but he could hear the satisfaction... and the pride. "She has a copy of those same papers; not because I made them... but because she hired the same person as me,"
A pregnant silence remained, and Thomas felt those papers shaking... no, his hands were shaking. Amelia had investigated him? Since when? Had she known? Was this a trap? Were these days with him a way to toy with his mind... with his feelings?
Had she been so smart as to make her sister unapproachable, and at the same time deceive him until the moment of truth would be revealed?
Could he believe the man in front of him?
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"I wish to talk to her-"
"No! You have exchanged words with her enough. She doesn't want to see you again and if she did... I wouldn't allow it," he marched back to them, a cheque in hand. "You appear to be the more collected of the two, dear. Here is the money that was considered in the investing contract my daughter wanted to do with your brother. Quite the generous amount, I'm afraid; but It'll be yours on one condition,"
"And what will that be?" His sister asked looking alarmed to him
"There is a train that leaves to Washington tomorrow. From there, you can and will take a ship back to England. I want you gone from this country by the end of the day. I hope I've made myself clear;"
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The walked back to the hall in complete silence. Lucille was clutching his arm with strength but also tenderness. The storm that would come later, he thought. Because they had money, but it won't be enough... they needed to start over again.
"Sir Thomas, wait!"
It was Edith Cushing. She picked up her pace to them, her green peignoir floating in the air as she moved... such a horrendous color. She looked flustered.
"Sir, please. Don't leave without talking to Amelia. I know what father said but I don't believe-"
"The Cushing women sure have a pathological tendency to overhear other people's conversations," he cut her off. For a moment, she frowned but seemed to think nothing of it.
"Sir my sister-"
"Your sister is nothing but a snake!... with her alluring facade and her twisted 'generosity'. The task your father has sent me is easier now than ever... I don't want to breathe the same air as she does!"
"That's not true. She loves you-"
"And what do you know about love, Edith?!" She took a step back, "you clearly describe something you have never experienced. The pain, the loss, a childish attempt at regurgitating what you've read from other authors,"
"That's enough!" She said, all worry and lushness leaving her face. She made a hideous frown of disgust and moved to go up the stairs, but just as she passes him... Thomas leaned in once more.
"I suggest you have your heart broken once or twice before considering embellishing the torture that you don't seem to recognize,"
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With that, he turned around and walked past the butler that evenly announced that a carriage was waiting for them.
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From a window on the second, a subtle light formed the silhouette of a female that looked out on the street. Thomas barely noticed it before climbing his way into the carriage.
He made an inhuman effort to not turn again as the carriage left.
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