What Happens in Piccadilly - Chasity Bowlin Page 0,95
more for him than friendship. Is that it?”
Effie sighed. “Our feelings for one another are friendship… and many other things besides. They are so complicated now that I think the words do not exist to express it fully. But complicated or not, we’ve said and done things to hurt one another, Calliope, and I do not think Highcliff and I can recover from.”
“You love him,” Callie said. It wasn’t a question. It was obvious and perhaps it was only because she’d managed to fall in love herself that she finally understood the truth of Effie’s feelings for Highcliff.
“I love him, I hate him, I adore and revile him,” Effie stated with a bitter laugh. “We’ve too much history between us to ever have a future. It is long past time that I face that and perhaps sever ties for good.”
Callie took Effie’s hands in hers. “Do not make rash decisions that you will have to regret for many years to come. This past week has been impossibly difficult. It’s been fraught with danger and uncertainty on so many fronts. Now is not the time for irrevocable actions.”
“If not now, when?”
Callie smiled. “You always told me to act prudently, to consider the consequences of any action before taking it. Is it terrible of me to offer that advice back to you?”
Effie moved to the small settee where she’d placed her pelisse and reticule. From within the little velvet pouch, she retrieved a pretty hair ornament of silver and pearls. “You’ll need something borrowed,” she said. “And no it isn’t terrible. You’re very wise to throw my own words back at me. I can’t refute them without looking like a fool. I shall not make any decisions for a while. Not until things have settled a bit between Highcliff and me.”
Callie didn’t let out her sigh of relief. Instead, she did a slow and measured exhale. She had not given up hope of a happy ending for Effie and Highcliff. It was obvious that they were terribly in love with one another, once she’d opened her eyes to the possibility of it. It was equally obvious that they were both terribly lost in their own ways.
“If we do not hurry, you are going to be late for your own wedding,” Effie pointed out.
She’d insisted that Callie return to the Darrow School for the night, but she hadn’t stayed in her old room. Instead, she’d shared a room with one of the other older girls and was now getting ready in their shared chamber. “Winn is supposed to send the carriage.”
“It’s already arrived,” Effie said. “I believe his household is as eager to see him married to you as he is. Are the children really that incorrigible?”
“No… well, perhaps William,” Callie admitted with a smile. “But he’s very sweet and wants so desperately to love and be loved. He’s just full of life and mischief.”
Effie smiled, albeit a somewhat watered down version of her normally sunny expression. “He reminds me very much of a little girl I once knew.”
Together, they descended the stairs and exited to the waiting carriage beyond. It was a short distance to the church. They’d elected to get married at St. James’ Church, Piccadilly as it was the parish church for both of them, though they’d never encountered one another at services there.
After only a few moments, the carriage rolled to a halt and a footman climbed down from the perch on the back of the carriage to help them down. Walking toward the doors of the church, Callie stopped short. The Duke of Averston stood there. What on earth was he doing there? Surely, after everything that had transpired, he hadn’t come there to halt the ceremony?
“I’ve not come to cause problems,” he offered, as if sensing her discomfiture.
“Then why have you come?” she asked.
He was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, he held his hands out in a gesture that could almost be interpreted as pleading. “For good or ill, we are the only family… the only blood… that either of us has. Barring our grandmother, of course, but she’s rather a sore subject at the moment.”
“I’m going inside now,” Effie said. “This seems very much like a conversation that requires a bit of privacy.”
When Effie had disappeared inside, Callie turned back to him. “So you wish to… what? Attend my wedding as if we are bosom companions?” she demanded.
He smirked, his lips quirking in a sardonic way. “No. The past is gone, after all,