serenity and joy? And not simply dazed relief?
The party went late, the music and drinks and colloquy lasting until the clock struck four, and then finally, the last of our guests filtered sleepily out of the rented hall, leaving Hugh and me alone. He turned to me, offering his elbow to escort me down to our carriage, and for a moment, I saw him as he was when we’d first met, seven or eight years ago. Hopeful and arrogant and a little lost—the kind of handsome man who’d been able to drift along the river of society without any effort. I think maybe I’d seen something endearing in that privileged innocence, that cloistered experience. Maybe I’d seen myself as I wanted to be—untouched by cynicism and violence. Carefree and careless. Because, while I’d maybe appeared carefree to an outsider, it was a constant, conscious, and exhausting act. But Hugh—his easiness was real and unfeigned, and maybe like Polidori’s vampire, I imagined I could somehow siphon that from him and infuse my own life with that kind of blithe insouciance.
Of course, I knew better now. And I knew that Hugh lacked certain qualities that his untroubled comportment couldn’t make up for. He wasn’t witty or charming, like Silas, or magnetic and secretly dominant, like Silas, or tender and perceptive…like Silas.
He wasn’t Silas, and he never would be, and the fact that I had ever imagined that a marriage to Hugh would be anything less than torture was supremely laughable now.
The words poured out easily. I put my hand over Hugh’s and looked him in the eye. “I’m ending our engagement.”
Hugh’s surprised laugh echoed through the empty ballroom, a laugh that said good joke, Molly, so hilarious . Irritation flamed at that, but I pushed it down, along with the urge to feel the crack of my hand against his cheek.
“I’m serious, Hugh.”
His laughter died. “Dearest, what can you possibly mean? You know that you—”
“—Have to marry you to keep my company intact?” I finished for him. “Maybe. Maybe this is the end of O’Flaherty Shipping. But I realized tonight that there’s nothing worth the price of my happiness. That my father wouldn’t want this for me, even to save the company he built. I’m sorry, Hugh, but I’m walking away from our agreement.”
His brown eyes blinked—confused and a little desperate as things began to sink in. “Molly, you cannot be serious. We just hosted almost every worthy member of London society for our engagement ball, and you want to tell me that you’ve changed your mind? It’s too late!”
I removed my arm from his, taking a step back. “Legally and practically, no, Hugh. It’s not too late. I’m sorry that this will be socially embarrassing for you, but really, can it be more embarrassing than your own cousin standing trial for seducing a girl barely past pubescence?”
He gaped at me.
“Face it. Without Cunningham’s money and without my company, you’re essentially finished. And with two scandals under your belt in less than a month, well, good luck finding a wealthy bride willing to marry you. I liked you once, and you know, I still believe that you do sincerely like me, in your own way. But that’s not enough to make up for a loveless union. Especially the kind of union that you wanted with me, where I would have been trapped and isolated, without any recourse.”
“No,” he rushed in to say. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can edit those contracts, Molly. We can fix things.”
It was almost sweet that he thought that would be enough to lure me into staying. I patted his shoulder. “Goodbye, Hugh. My solicitors will be in touch.”
I fought the urge to go to Silas right away. Rather, I went home and bathed, slipping into bed as the sun began blooming pink and orange on the horizon. I tried not to think about what I’d just done—alienating Silas and breaking things off with Hugh. I tried not to think about whether or not I would have this
The party went late, the music and drinks and colloquy lasting until the clock struck four, and then finally, the last of our guests filtered sleepily out of the rented hall, leaving Hugh and me alone. He turned to me, offering his elbow to escort me down to our carriage, and for a moment, I saw him as he was when we’d first met, seven or eight years ago. Hopeful and arrogant and a little lost—the kind of handsome man who’d been able to drift along the river of society without any effort. I think maybe I’d seen something endearing in that privileged innocence, that cloistered experience. Maybe I’d seen myself as I wanted to be—untouched by cynicism and violence. Carefree and careless. Because, while I’d maybe appeared carefree to an outsider, it was a constant, conscious, and exhausting act. But Hugh—his easiness was real and unfeigned, and maybe like Polidori’s vampire, I imagined I could somehow siphon that from him and infuse my own life with that kind of blithe insouciance.
Of course, I knew better now. And I knew that Hugh lacked certain qualities that his untroubled comportment couldn’t make up for. He wasn’t witty or charming, like Silas, or magnetic and secretly dominant, like Silas, or tender and perceptive…like Silas.
He wasn’t Silas, and he never would be, and the fact that I had ever imagined that a marriage to Hugh would be anything less than torture was supremely laughable now.
The words poured out easily. I put my hand over Hugh’s and looked him in the eye. “I’m ending our engagement.”
Hugh’s surprised laugh echoed through the empty ballroom, a laugh that said good joke, Molly, so hilarious . Irritation flamed at that, but I pushed it down, along with the urge to feel the crack of my hand against his cheek.
“I’m serious, Hugh.”
His laughter died. “Dearest, what can you possibly mean? You know that you—”
“—Have to marry you to keep my company intact?” I finished for him. “Maybe. Maybe this is the end of O’Flaherty Shipping. But I realized tonight that there’s nothing worth the price of my happiness. That my father wouldn’t want this for me, even to save the company he built. I’m sorry, Hugh, but I’m walking away from our agreement.”
His brown eyes blinked—confused and a little desperate as things began to sink in. “Molly, you cannot be serious. We just hosted almost every worthy member of London society for our engagement ball, and you want to tell me that you’ve changed your mind? It’s too late!”
I removed my arm from his, taking a step back. “Legally and practically, no, Hugh. It’s not too late. I’m sorry that this will be socially embarrassing for you, but really, can it be more embarrassing than your own cousin standing trial for seducing a girl barely past pubescence?”
He gaped at me.
“Face it. Without Cunningham’s money and without my company, you’re essentially finished. And with two scandals under your belt in less than a month, well, good luck finding a wealthy bride willing to marry you. I liked you once, and you know, I still believe that you do sincerely like me, in your own way. But that’s not enough to make up for a loveless union. Especially the kind of union that you wanted with me, where I would have been trapped and isolated, without any recourse.”
“No,” he rushed in to say. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can edit those contracts, Molly. We can fix things.”
It was almost sweet that he thought that would be enough to lure me into staying. I patted his shoulder. “Goodbye, Hugh. My solicitors will be in touch.”
I fought the urge to go to Silas right away. Rather, I went home and bathed, slipping into bed as the sun began blooming pink and orange on the horizon. I tried not to think about what I’d just done—alienating Silas and breaking things off with Hugh. I tried not to think about whether or not I would have this
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