Seraphina growled low. “Just come upstairs, will you?” she fairly begged. “And do it quick, before I come to my senses and forget the whole thing.”
She turned about and stalked inside the Quayside, making her way back to the blue brocade curtain, where there was not only the small office they used for their meetings but also stairs that led to the rooms Seraphina and her sisters shared above the circulating library. Suddenly shaking, though she couldn’t comprehend why, Bronwyn followed. Soon they found themselves closed inside the Athwarts’ small private upstairs parlor.
“Sit,” her friend ordered, though she did not follow suit as Bronwyn perched on the edge of the worn settee. Instead, she walked to an iron perch in the corner, depositing Phineas on it before starting up an agitated pacing across the faded rose-patterned rug.
Alarm shot through Bronwyn. She had never in her life seen her friend in such a state. “Seraphina?”
Her friend held up a hand. “Wait, let me think.” She continued her pacing, each step faster than the one before, her skirts snapping about her ankles. Bronwyn, watching it all with a kind of fatalistic dread, felt she would scream from the suspense.
Finally Seraphina stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes. “I was not sure if I should say anything. After all, it could be nothing. I have been known to misread people.” She let loose a harsh laugh. “Which is an understatement if there ever was one.”
Before Bronwyn could question her, however, her friend threw her hands wide and strode to the seat next to Bronwyn.
“I really don’t know how to broach this particular subject, but you seem so very sad, and I cannot say nothing.”
Bronwyn blinked, though this time it was not in shock. No, this time it was to stave off the tears that threatened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she managed. “I am not sad. In fact, I have never been happier.”
The look Seraphina gave her was pure incredulousness.
“I may be rubbish at understanding emotion, but I can see quite clearly when one of my nearest and dearest friends has had her heart broken.”
Bronwyn really had nothing to say to that. And even if she did, she doubted she could have given voice to it, for her throat closed up with the most unwelcome tears.
“And the crux of it all is, I do believe the man loves you just as much as you love him.”
Rearing back, Bronwyn gaped at her friend. “What are you talking about? Ash does not love me.”
Seraphina shook a finger in her face, making Bronwyn fall back even farther until she was nearly supine against the cushions. “I knew you would say that. And I know the reason why as well. You think you cannot be loved for who you are, when nothing could be further from the truth. I love you as you are. And I know the other Oddments do as well.”
The tears did come then, tracking down her cheek at her friend’s gruff admission. It was something that Katrina or Adelaide or even Honoria would have said with ease. Yet she never expected it from Seraphina, who held her emotions so very close to her chest, who was more often than not abrasive and stern and almost painfully serious.
“Ugh,” Seraphina groaned when she spied Bronwyn’s face. “Don’t cry. I swear, I cannot abide tears.” Even so, she sniffled loudly as she fumbled in her bodice and extracted a handkerchief, which she thrust into Bronwyn’s hands. “Let’s have no more of that now. We are getting off track. The fact of the matter is, I have reason to believe your husband cares for you much more than he ever let on.”
“Whatever gave you such an idea in the first place?” Bronwyn mumbled thickly, removing her spectacles so she might dab at her eyes. “It is not as if you have ever been in conversation with the man.”
To her surprise, however, Seraphina suddenly looked highly uncomfortable. “Actually—”
Bronwyn frowned. “Yes?”
Her friend heaved a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I admit Imayhave stopped him on the road to Caulnedy the evening before his departure after I visited with you.”
A night she recalled too well. Not only was it the last time she saw Ash, but it was also the same night she had been slapped with the realization that he thought just as everyone else in society did, that a woman’s sole value depended on whether she married.
“And I may have told him that I didn’t appreciate him breaking your heart. And that he’d better make it right.”
“Seraphina.” Bronwyn groaned. “You didn’t.”
“What did you expect me to do?” her friend demanded, even as guilt flushed her cheeks with color. “You were miserable, more miserable than I’ve ever seen you. He had to be made aware of what he had done.”
Bronwyn, however, was beyond mortification. She dropped her face in her hands. “But now he will think I’ve fallen in love with him.”
“But you have!” her friend cried.
Bronwyn looked up at her friend in disbelief. “I don’t wanthimknowing that! Can you imagine how much he will pity me? The strange, socially inept woman he took for his wife, a woman he wanted only to mind his wards, falling in love with him? It is horribly pathetic.”
“You are not pathetic,” her friend said fiercely, taking Bronwyn’s hand in hers and giving it a little squeeze. “You are brilliant, and brave, and resilient. Any man would be lucky to have your affections.” Her lips twisted. “Not that any man could everdeservethem.”
“Oh, Seraphina,” Bronwyn managed, giving a watery chuckle as she pressed the sodden handkerchief to her eyes once more. “I am so lucky to have you as my friend.”