at her side.”
“I hate it, too. But, I’ve done everything I can to convince her.”
Rising to his feet, Aubrey set his glass on the table and gave him a pointed look. “Have you, really?”
Nick blinked, watching as his friend retrieved his coat and hat on his way to the door. Aubrey paused on the threshold and inclined his head, a reassuring smile curving his lips.
“It is the lady’s prerogative to change her mind. Think about it, Nick.”
He sat back and stared at the door, the flat gone silent and still. He’d given Thorpe the night off, thinking it better for him to be left alone with his grief. Now that he had his coveted solitude, he realized just how alone he was. In a matter of days, he would leave London without a look back—without Calliope, without his friends, without anyone who cared about him at all.
Had he done everything within his power to convince Calliope to choose him? He’d been in such despair, returning to London to his dying uncle only to later learn that she’d betrothed herself to Lewes. He’d sank into a pit of misery, telling himself he had been wrong to even try, that she was better off without a worthless castoff whore like him.
But, he wasn’t a whore anymore. He was a man slowly learning to have faith in himself the way Paul had, and make a new life for himself. That new life might have included Calliope had he not mucked everything up.
God, the things he’d said to her that day at the foundling home. He had been hurting, miserable at having her so close yet so far out of his reach. He’d seen the pain in her eyes, the turmoil she felt at facing him. That had been his chance to try again, and he’d bungled it.
If he went to her now, would she even want him? Or had he destroyed his final chance at redemption?
Aubrey’s words echoed in his mind as he asked himself a final question, one that haunted him through the night and well into the next morning.
Was he willing to take the risk of finding out?
Chapter 15
“Dearest readers, I am absolutely agog. Agog, I tell you! The spectacle I bore witness to yesterday morning will go down as the most entertaining, outrageous, extraordinary thing you may ever see written about in this column. Read on for a full account, and prepare yourself to be thoroughly scandalized!”
The London Gossip, November 21, 1819
Calliope stared at herself in the mirror as Ekta circled her—snipping a loose thread here or there, fluffing her skirts, and fussing with the loose curls of her coiffure. She wanted to push the maid’s busy hands away and ask to be left alone, but she did not. Calliope craved silence and solitude, for if she remained cloistered away until it came time to depart, she might keep hold of her fortitude. Ekta seemed of an opposite mind from her, needing motion and occupation to distract her from what would occur in the next few hours.
Her wedding day had seemed so far off when Martin had first proposed to her, but now that it had arrived, Calliope couldn’t help but feel as if this had all happened far too quickly. Her mind did battle with her heart, one part of her arguing that she wasn’t ready and might never be, while logic told her there was no reason to delay.
There were three other ceremonies happening across London today, but none would be more talked about or highly-attended than hers. Martin had insisted on a large service with a sizeable portion of the ton in attendance, citing that allowing them to witness the wedding would help put the last of the talk about her to rest. Calliope could hardly argue with that reasoning, even as she despised having to endure getting married before an audience of people who didn’t truly know her.
Her bridal ensemble had been the subject of much disagreement between herself, Ekta, and the dressmaker. She had been content to simply wear her best gown, while Ekta had argued she needed something new. The modiste had cringed at the notion of including any garment that called attention to her Bengali heritage, but Diana and her maid had reminded her the importance of honoring Calliope’s mother on such a day. A compromise had been reached, with grudging agreement between Ekta and the dressmaker that her gown should be at the height of the current fashion, and her jewelry would