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“So, you don’t actually care about appearing true, just appearing true toothers.”

“Nonsense.”

“Thomas…” Her throat bobbed. “Do you mean this embrace? Have you meant any of them?”

Silence.

He had no answer that could satisfy her, especially not after the tragic story she had just watched.

She slowly raised her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin.

There it is again… that look.

As if she thought there was something wrong with him, some piece of humanity missing from him, and she pitied him for the lack of it.

Then she pulled away and turned back, facing the stage. The curtains rose again so the thespians could take their bows and receive the bafflingly rapturous applause, saving the couple from another awkward conversation.

“Do you mean this embrace? Have you meant any of them?”

The words danced around in Thomas’s head, a disturbing little imp possessed by curiosity. It didn’t help that he and Sophia were now stuck in the confines of the carriage, where he could not escape her pensive looks and soft, stirring sighs. Moreover, she had chosen to sit opposite him, making it even harder for him to avoid her gaze, pitying or otherwise.

Did I?

No, of course, I didn’t.

He couldn’t explain why he had not been able to restrain himself in the library and the study, but it had nothing to do with feelings. Did it? They had been moments of madness, spurred on by…

He grasped for the reasoning, but it wouldn’t come to him. It had been instinctual, carnal, beyond all reason.

He glanced at her then, the confined space of the carriage stirring up that indescribable feeling once again.

She looked so beautiful in one of the new gowns he had purchased for her, the refined attire merely accentuating whatshe already had—a boldness of spirit, a singular sense of self, utterlyher.

He didn’t want to change that; he wanted to celebrate it in the only way that seemed to please her and the only manner that wouldn’t lead to an argument.

“Do you mean this embrace? Have you meant any of them?”

The words echoed in his mind, stifling his desire for her like damp cloth thrown over embers. If shewantedtheir stolen moments of pleasure to have meaning, to have feeling, then he wasn’t sure he could give her that. It was too great a promise to make, with his mind in such turmoil.

It was never supposed to be like this. You were not supposed to confuse and bewitch me. You?—

“Thank you,” she said suddenly.

Thomas almost flinched. “What for?”

“I know you hated every moment of the play. And you knew you would. And you still came anyway.”

“I didn’t hateeverymoment,” he replied, meeting her gaze, wondering if she could somehow feel his thoughts.

“Is that so?” She smiled softly. “Enlighten me. What parts did you hate less than the rest?”

He leaned forward, debating whether or not to move to her side of the carriage. “I saw some merit in the story, in the end.” He reached out and took her hand, lifting it to his lips. “The idiocy of feuds. The senseless loss. How it should not reach the point of two lovers losing their lives for that stupidity to be realized.”

He lifted his gaze to hers and slowly peeled away her glove, placing another kiss on her soft, bare skin. “A marriageshouldhave ended it, but I suppose it wouldn’t be nearly as dramatic if the play ended less tragically.”

Her breath hitched. “So, you don’t think it was all a huge waste of time?”

He watched her for a moment, trying to decipher which feud, which marriage, they were talking about. Something like shyness passed over her beautiful face, and her eyes lowered, giving him his answer.