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She put a hand on his shoulder. “This is my sacrifice. My choice. To give you all a chance at having what you want. My marriage would give us security. It gives Betsy the opportunity to marry for love. I would stipulate that Susan and the boys would come live with me until they married.”

“It isn’t right,” Jacob declared. “This isn’t what you wanted for yourself.”

“You don’t even like James,” Susan said, wrinkling her nose. “Neither do I.”

“It’s not a matter of like. It’s what I must do.”

Betsy grabbed her hand. “No, Caro. You should follow your heart. You don’t need to do this for us.”

“We don’t need it,” Susan insisted. “I don’t even wish to marry!”

“No one needs to marry,” Jacob said. He squared his shoulders. “It’s our turn to come up with solutions, Caro. It doesn’t always have to be you. We’re adults. We are in this together.”

“I could never ask it of you—”

“You aren’t asking,” Betsy said. “But we’re giving.”

“Jacob is right,” Susan said. “We Reeves stick together. And when we put our heads together, we can do anything.”

For the first time in years, Caroline felt free.

If she were truly free, she wouldn’t choose marriage.

She would choose Arabella. A thousand times over.

All she had to do was find her. And then apologize for the rest of her life, if she were lucky enough to be loved in return.

* * *

Arabella didn’t have an invitation to the Martins’ soiree. It was likely a snub, as the Martins knew how close she and Caroline were.

Or rather, how close theyhadbeen.

She took Fred with her and they set off for the Martins at a pace that she was sure would leave her heels blistered for days, but there was no time to lose.

When she got to the estate, she gave Fred a note. “Please find Miss Linfield at once,” she said, and waited outside the servants’ entrance in the dusk. It wasn’t long before a maid appeared and ushered her inside the narrow staircase up to the second floor of the manor house, guiding her to Grace’s bedchamber.

“What on earth are you doing?” Grace asked as soon as she saw her, concern in her eyes. She was ready for the evening, down to the reticule on her wrist and her fan in her hand. “Are you quite all right?”

“I need to speak with Caroline,” she said, breathless from the stairs. She felt more determined than she ever had in her life.

“I would imagine that she’s in the ballroom.”

“I have no invitation and couldn’t come in the main door. I thought you could help me to get to the ball unnoticed.”

Grace frowned. “In your current state, Arabella, you would not only be noticed but you would be thrown out of the room. You are not ready for a ball. We must remedy that immediately.”

She poked her head out the doorway and called for the maid again.

“I need a dress to suit Miss Seton,” she said, her face as calm as if she asked for such favors every day. “Would any of mine do for her?”

“Please do not trouble yourself,” Arabella said, her face burning. Nothing of Grace’s was going to fit her.

“Forgive me, Arabella, but you have mud three inches deep round your hem, and you look like you’ve been running. You need a quick rinse in the washstand and a change of clothes before you can enter that ballroom.”

“Could we not summon Caroline to join us here?” Changing gowns would take time that she didn’t know they had.

“I don’t think Caroline would come,” Grace said gently. “She was devastated, you know, at”—she glanced at the maid, who was riffling through her wardrobe—“at what happened.”