while I carry my final bag of possessions down the stairs and toward the front hall.
“No, Nina,” I tell her for the fifth or sixth time. Every question has been about whether I’ll write to him, thank him, or send her to thank him for me. And every answer of mine is the same. No. No. Absolutely not.
“But it was so kind of him, and he clearly still loves you.”
We reach the front step, where I hand my bag off to Susan, who in turn takes it to the coach. Seeing as the front hall is now clear, that’s the last of my things. I turn to my sister and force a smile. There’s no point leaving annoyed. It’s not like she can help being a hopeless romantic. I gather her in my arms. “I love you, Nina. Take care of Father while you can.”
“Will you come back for my wedding?”
“Of course I will.” We pull apart slightly, and I try not to focus on how my heart sinks. “I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss—”
“What did you do?” The voice is so unwelcome and startling that it makes my skin crawl. Clenching my jaw, I release my sister to face Imogen standing at the bottom of the steps, hands on her hips. Her face is furious, blonde curls a tangled mess. She looks as if she hasn’t slept in a week. Or perhaps she’s been crying.
Narrowing my eyes, I descend the stairs and face her. “What are you talking about, Imogen?”
“What. Did. You. Do?” She bites out each word through clenched teeth.
I release a frustrated sigh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I have somewhere to be. Have a good life.” I turn my back on her and make my way to the open doors of the coach.
“Are you going back to him?”
I pause and whirl back toward her, brow furrowed. “No, I’m leaving Vernon.”
She lets out a bitter laugh and takes a few steps closer. “Sure you are. I know what’s really going on. You’ve decided you’ll be the one to break his curse.”
My heart begins to hammer against my ribs. “Imogen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then a question I dread to ask flies from the tip of my tongue. “Are you and Mr. Rochester not married?”
She throws her hands in the air. “No, Gemma. Don’t play stupid. I know this was all your doing.”
Nina hurries down the steps and storms up to Imogen. “Don’t you dare talk to my sister like that.”
Imogen rounds on Nina. “You should be careful before your reputation is tainted by her wicked ways.”
Nina’s mouth falls open, and she takes a step closer. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was preparing for a fight. “How dare you! Who do you think you are?”
“It’s all right, Nina,” I say gently. “I can handle this.”
Nina pins Imogen with a seething glare but takes a step back.
I face Imogen, my fingers curling into fists. “Now, I am only going to say this once more. I have no idea what in the name of the saints you’re going on about. Speak clearly and say what it is you’re so desperate to hint at.”
Passers-by have stopped to gawk, but I pay them no heed. All I know is if Imogen doesn’t explain herself in a matter of seconds, I’ll shake the words out of her myself.
Finally, Imogen turns up her nose and speaks. “I’ve been waiting for him to propose like you said he would, but he wouldn’t see me all week. I’ve come to call every single day, and yet each day it’s the same. Mr. Rochester is busy, he’ll see me tomorrow. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he was merely preparing for our upcoming nuptials. Then finally, he accepts my visit today. I find him outside in an unkempt courtyard of brambles staring at some horrid, withering rose. Minutes passed and he didn’t say a word to me. Then finally, I threw all propriety to the wind and asked if he was going to marry me. You know what he did?”
She waits for me to answer, but I can’t bring myself to speak.
“He shook his head,” she finally says. “And when I asked him why, he gave me a single word as his reply. Can you guess what that word was? It was Gemma. Your name is the reason he won’t marry me, and he refused to say a word more, much less look at