Page 36 of The Lord who Captured Her Innocent Heart
Once at the stable, he maneuvered through the various stalls to find his horse. He swept his fingers across the horse’s nose, the soft, sweet hairs near his mouth. The stable boy cantered towards him, calling, “Are you already finished with your affairs, Lord Holloway?”
Peter swung his head towards the stable boy, marvelling at the weight he attributed to the boy’s words. “What do you mean?” he demanded, before recognising that the boy meant very little harm at all.
“I just meant,” the boy offered, stuttering. “I simply meant, are you quite finished? Would you like assistance?”
“If I needed assistance, I wouldn’t be able to ride a horse, now, would I?” Peter said, hating the vitriol that spewed from his lips. “It’s as though you haven’t a clue who I am.”
With that, Peter opened the gate, drawing his horse out from within. The horse whinnied, casting his head back and shaking his mane. He seemed every bit as wild as Peter felt.
Within minutes, Peter and the horse stood outside the stable. Peter felt he’d walked a sort of plank, that he was about to be thrust into a reality in which he hadn’t a clue what the rules were, nor how to operate himself accordingly. He threw his leg over the side, shimmying himself into the saddle. He threw a glance back towards the rosebush, but from his vantage point, he couldn’t see within the brush. Perhaps Ella had already returned to the mansion, was busying herself with her needle and thread. Perhaps she’d already forgotten all the words he’d spewed to her, seemingly unable to help himself.
He’d been awash with emotion, a feeling bigger than he could possibly comprehend. Now, it was over, and he was alone. He moved his chin towards his chest, muttered to his horse, and then galloped from the estate, heading back towards home. Someday, this would all be a bitter memory.
Chapter 17
Three days prior to the wedding, Ella and Tatiana stood in Tatiana’s bedroom during a rare moment alone. When these times occurred, Ella felt awash with panic, wanting to tug the seconds back, to draw them close to her. They had so very little time together, the two of them. It would soon be gone, nothing left.
Tatiana gazed at the delicate work Ella had orchestrated on her gown, flowing her fingers tenderly over the stitching. She blinked several times, seemingly trying to hold back tears. “You really have quite a talent, Ella,” she murmured. “I couldn’t have imagined more intricate detail from any professional in London. And I’m lucky enough to find it with my own sister.”
Ella’s blush was heavy. “I suppose you should really try it on, don’t you think? Just to ensure that the dress falls correctly.”
Tatiana froze for a moment. After sniffing, she whispered, “That would make it all the more real, wouldn’t it? Actually trying on the dress?”
Ella’s heart quaked with sadness. She hadn’t known where to put her emotions in the wake of her conversation with Peter in the garden. Without a single person to speak to about it, she’d felt entirely lonely and isolated, a boat without an anchor. This dress had been her only respite, and now — it was finished.
“Do you not wish it was real?” Ella asked, her voice caught somewhere in her throat.
“It’s not that, I don’t think,” Tatiana said. She dropped herself along the edge of her bed, making the dress shift a bit. “When you’re preparing to be wed, I suppose you run through all the other potential realities you might have had, if you’d made another decision along the way. That’s what my head is swimming with these days.”
“What alternate path might you have taken?” Ella asked. Perhaps a few weeks prior, she might have seen this as an opening, a route for her to draw her sister away from Frederick and towards another pasture, another reality.
“I’m not entirely sure.” Tatiana’s eyes drifted towards the window. “Perhaps I might have married that man who stayed with us the previous summer, do you remember him? The economist?”
“Oh,” Ella said, trying to suppress a giggle. “What a funny thing to think of. I don’t remember him laughing a single time throughout dinners, do you? Father tried endlessly to make him crack.”
“He was entirely serious,” Tatiana agreed. “But perhaps that’s the sort of man you’re meant to marry?”
“Do you imagine that Frederick isn’t the sort to marry?” Ella asked, her eyebrows crinkling together. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, no,” Tatiana said, allowing her shoulders to slump forward. “Frederick is absolutely perfect for me. I know that in my heart. We — we complement one another. The way, perhaps, you and I do.”
Ella’s throat felt squeezed. It was a rare thing, Tatiana stating anything about their sisterly relationship. They’d always been just exactly that — sisters, attached at the hip yet continually balancing one another out, always surprising the other with their strange, off-kilter thoughts.
She felt as though Tatiana held a microscopic lens to their relationship, now, trying to study it.
“Of course, no one drives me crazier than you do,” Tatiana said, grinning broadly. “And I imagine Frederick will do the same. But I think that’s the secret, don’t you? Finding someone who drives you a little wild, to keep you on your toes.”
For whatever reason, this caused Ella to think once more of Peter — of the chaos that filled her mind when they spoke to one another. She paused for a long time, wondering how to respond, before realising the moment had already passed. She sniffed and patted the top of the wedding gown with a delicate hand.
“Why don’t we see what this looks like, hmm?” she asked.
Tatiana stepped gingerly into the dress, allowing Ella to sneak it up towards her shoulders. Her hands traced through the sleeves, before reappearing on the other side of lace-fluff. On the back, Ella had stitched tiny bead buttons, and she attached them together now, guiding the dress up towards the back of Tatiana’s neck. Tatiana allowed her head to drape forward, seemingly afraid of her own reflection in the mirror that hung on the opposite wall.
“Tell me. Do I look like a bride?” she murmured, clearly anxious.
Ella’s breath caught in her throat. She shuffled towards the other side of the room, where the mirror was, as Tatiana curved her head upward. She stood regal, every bit like the queen herself, her neck long and thin and porcelain, her cheeks glowing.
“My goodness,” Ella whispered.
