I was no different. Frank wasn’t anyone I’d heard of beforehand, nor did I know if he was dead set on marrying a blushing virgin, but as a respectable prospect, he had to be treated appropriately. That, and I had to start getting back in the habit of charming others, no matter how much I still pined for Jago. After observing Frank for a few days, however, I realized fawning all over him like the others did actually wasn’t the best method to interest him.
“Tamsin,” he called one afternoon, as our party took its lunch break. “I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you. Come eat with me. You can share this lovely olive spread Archibald set out with my brioche.” Archibald was his manservant, the one who painstakingly set up Frank’s luxurious tent each night and pressed each day’s new riding coat. Today’s was indigo, almost a perfect match for Frank’s eyes.
“I certainly will not.” I didn’t look up from our ration box, where I was sorting out my friends’ allotted portions of rye bread and some sort of hard white cheese. “If I sit down with you for any length of time, Mister Brennan, it will not be while I’m in a worsted working dress, with my hair barely brushed. And I certainly hope you will be able to do better than the side of a road and olive spread from a jar that took your man all of ten seconds to open. I won’t waste my time or yours with a display that is anything less than our best. But thank you just the same for the lovely invitation.”
Frank stared openmouthed. He wasn’t used to being dismissed by women around here or back home, I was certain. And it enthralled him. For the rest of the day he kept sneaking glances at me that were equal parts disbelief and fascination.
“How did you do that?” demanded Maria later in the evening. “We’ve all been tossing our hair back, putting out our wittiest lines, and praising everything he does. Then you come along with one sharp-tongued rejection, and now he can’t stop mooning over you!”
I was settling down to write a letter and gave her a quick grin before putting pen to paper. “It’s like you girls always say: I get things done.”
Gideon overheard and waited patiently until I finished writing. I’d been so distraught about discovering the Osfridian attacker that Gideon’s declaration at the fishing camp had almost slipped my mind. He never mentioned it again, and I didn’t know if it had simply been an impulsive sentiment, born from the moment’s heightened emotion, or if it was sincere and he was simply embarrassed about admitting it after I’d told him in Constancy that there couldn’t be anything between us. My gloomy mood had caused me to withdraw into myself for the end of the trip, so I’d had little chance to speak to him or anyone else much.
“Do you actually like him?” Gideon asked.
I looked over at where several of my friends sat around a campfire. Frank sat with them, of course. He was animatedly telling a story about how his brother nearly proposed to the wrong girl at a masquerade ball after indulging in too much champagne. Frank knew how to play to an audience, hitting all the punch lines at exactly the right time, and I found myself smiling at the outlandish tale too. As compelling as the story was, the background details were just as noteworthy—like how the masquerade had taken place at his family’s estate, hosting a hundred people. The plentiful champagne had been a rare Lorandian type. Frank Brennan had money, no question. He had looks too, which weren’t a necessity but weren’t something I minded.
“I don’t dislike him,” I mused. “He’s pretty much a perfect example of what the Glittering Court goes for, though this really wasn’t the setting I’d planned to be meeting suitors in. I’m not at my best.”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never seen you wearing a silk gown in a ballroom, but after everything that’s happened?” In the lantern’s soft glow, Gideon’s smile held its usual radiance. “I feel like I’ve seen you at your best. You should have a husband who appreciates that.”
“Hopefully I can find one.”
Gideon eyed the group by the campfire. “And you think you’ll find him among Cape Triumph’s elite, critiquing champagne in some tacky drawing room?”
The image, coming from Gideon especially, made me laugh. “Well, we’ll see. I do think I’ll find someone in one of those tacky drawing rooms who can help my . . . family with our bills.”
“And you’ll give up love and connection for that?”
“In an instant. They matter more than everything else, and I’ll do whatever it takes, be whatever it takes, for their security.”
“It’s a shame,” he said after long moments. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice one thing for another. You should have it all—being able to take care of your family, someone you can love, the freedom to be yourself . . .”
I nearly had that with Jago, I thought wistfully. All but the one that matters. To Gideon, I said, “Believe me, I want all those things if possible. I’ll let you know if I find him.”
“Well . . . what about me?”
I’d started to pack up my paper and now stopped in surprise. “You...what?”
Gideon was angled away from me, so I couldn’t make out his expression. He took a deep breath. “Me. As your husband. Will you . . .” Slowly, he turned around. “Tamsin, will you marry me?”
CHAPTER 30
“GIDEON . . .” FOR THE BRIEFEST OF MOMENTS, I WONDERED if he was teasing me, but the earnestness on his pale face left no question. Apparently, his declaration at the camp hadn’t been a spur-of-the-moment impulse. “Oh, Gideon. We talked about this. You’re wonderful—truly. Worth a million Frank Brennans, to be honest. But I have to marry someone who can pay my contract fee and my other expenses.”
“I-I can,” he stammered. “I have it. The money.”
Again, it should have been a joke, and again, his expression insisted it wasn’t. “How? An orthodox priest wouldn’t have that kind of money . . . let alone . . .”
“One from the Heirs of Uros?” he supplied, with a rueful smile. “You’re right. But remember, I wasn’t always one. Before that, I was a spoiled boy living a shallow and decadent life. What I didn’t tell you is that I was also a spoiled boy whose father is one of the landed gentry.”
I shot to my feet. “Stop it, Gideon! I didn’t believe it before, but now I know you are joking.”
He held up a hand. “It’s the truth. May the angels strike me down if it’s not. I grew up in the Oakmont district. Have you been there?”
“Sure,” I scoffed. “Delivering laundry. One of Ma’s regulars went to a debut there, and we had to deliver her satin ball gown.”
“When was it? I could have been at that party. I told you—I went to lots and burned through my parents’ money. They had every right to cut me off, but they kept hoping I’d straighten up one day. Sailing to Adoria to join the Heirs wasn’t exactly what they had in mind, but they were so thrilled to see me focused on anything that they continued sending the stipend my brothers and I get from our grandfather’s estate. It’s not as much as if I’d stayed in Osfro and played an active part in running the land, but it’s covered my expenses in Grashond for my education and board—and it would cover your contract fee. There’s a bank in Watchful that’s got some of it invested for me. It’d take a bit of time to send for it and get through the paperwork, but once it was freed, I’m certain I could help your family and give you a comfortable life. I can’t promise champagne and tacky drawing rooms, but I swear you’d never want for love, respect, and acceptance.”
Frozen, I could only stare and try to process his words. Realizing I was gaping, I finally clamped my jaw shut and turned around. “Gideon—no. I can’t do— No.” I stalked off into the darkness, too overcome to continue.
“Tamsin!” He caught up easily and clasped my hand to stop me. “Wait, please. I’m serious. I want to marry you. I love you.”
I shook my head, though we’d gone far enough from the lantern that I wasn’t sure he saw that. “Gideon . . . I meant it when I said you’re wonderful, and I care about y
ou a lot. But . . .”
“But what? If you care about me, and I have the money that’ll help you, what’s the problem? Are you . . . are you hoping to find someone with more money? Or someone you like better than me?”
The tremulous note in his voice at that last bit struck me deeply. “No, it’s not that. It’s just at this point . . . well, I came here treating marriage as a sort of business, and I feel like I need to stick to my original plan. Love and romance are wonderful things, but I can’t risk getting distracted by them.”
“Like with Jacob Robinson?”
I went very still. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s okay.” Gideon’s voice held its familiar gentleness. “I saw the way you looked at him. And I heard the way he talked about you when we went back to Constancy. But I’m guessing if he hadn’t been detained at the fort, you would still have cut him off.”
“Gideon, it’s complicated—”
“I don’t have any hard feelings toward him. He’s a good man. And I don’t blame you for having to end things because of his money—or lack thereof. Like you said, you came to Adoria for a specific reason. But I’m guessing it still hurts—and that it’s probably easier considering your marriage prospects impartially now, keeping your heart out of it altogether.”
Gideon didn’t know the exact details of how things had ended with Jago and me, but he had, I realized, figured out what even I hadn’t. I was slipping back into my old role of focused, goal-oriented Tamsin because choosing a husband from an emotionally detached place meant I couldn’t get hurt again.
When I stayed silent, Gideon continued, “But I’m telling you, you don’t have to make that sacrifice. Marry me, and you can have it all. It’s okay if you’re not madly in love with me right now, but the fact that you care at all and we have such a good friendship is more than you’ll have with some stranger you meet in a drawing room. This is the kind of basis we can use to build something beautiful. Don’t resign yourself to unhappiness.”
I rubbed my eyes and slowly turned back toward the wagon, Gideon falling into step beside me. “I don’t want you making a rash decision,” I told him. “A lot’s happened in your world recently. You gave up a life of luxury in Osfro to come to the Heirs, and now you’re leaving them. You don’t need me right now—you need time to figure things out.”
“But that’s exactly it,” he said, voice suddenly growing sure and eager. “You’re the reason I figured things out. Long before I found out the council had lied to me about Jacob, you were making me question what I was being told.” As we neared the light again, he stopped in front of me so that I’d have to look up into his face. He took my hands. “Tamsin, you are the bravest, cleverest person I’ve ever met. Your compassion is boundless, and you aren’t afraid to stand up for your beliefs. I came to Adoria hoping I’d find people who could cut through the superficiality and excess that taints the world. And it turns out, one of them found me. Do you really want to marry someone like that?”
He gestured across the camp, and, almost on cue, we heard Frank call, “Archibald! Did you lay out my jacket with the red pinstripes? I wanted the one with larger red stripes. Don’t go to bed until it’s pressed and ready.”
I winced. “That’s kind of an extreme example . . .”
Gideon leaned closer. “Tamsin, I think we could do wonderful things together. You’ve got such a gift for helping me bring my ideas to life. We could create sermons—no, larger messages and ideals—to share and guide others along the path Uros intended.”
“I have no calling, Gideon. I’m not going to pretend for a second I do.”
He smiled, and it reached his eyes, making them shine. “You say that, but I think you have been called. And that’s what I’m realizing. Being righteous and good isn’t about how many passages you read or how modestly you dress. That’s as empty as the gold robes and repetitive services I hated in Osfro. The real test of who we are is in how we live, how we embody those principles in the world each day. That’s what you do. And that’s why I want you by my side, to find a home and a community.” He hesitated. “To create a better understanding of the divine—to create a new sort of church that gets to the heart of what matters, without the strictness of the Heirs.”
“Your own church . . . Gideon, that’s . . . wow. That’s amazing,” I said sincerely. “I think you could do some really good things.”
“And with you, I could do some really great things. Please, Tamsin.” We could hear the others disbanding. He released my hands, but his voice grew more urgent. “Let me prove to you that you can have it all. That opening your heart doesn’t lead to pain. Be my partner in a new venture—not just someone’s pretty trinket. You’re a woman without equal. You deserve the world.”
My heart racing, I glanced over my shoulder and then back to him. His words were thrilling and beautiful. Not enough to make me instantly get over Jago, of course. But they did give me hope. A minister’s wife wasn’t what I’d envisioned, but nothing was, anymore. Was it so crazy to marry him? It might not be an opulent lifestyle, but it would surpass what I’d had in Osfro and ensure my marriage plans were settled when Merry arrived. And he was right that I was unlikely to find anyone who’d want me to help build his dream with him in such an equal way. Maybe I really wouldn’t find anyone who loved me like this.
Jago did, an inner voice said. He was willing to give up his dream for you.
“Gideon, there’s something you need to know before you ask this. I’m not who you think.”
“There’s nothing you can say that’ll change what I think of you,” he said.
The others had almost reached us. In a rush, I suddenly blurted out the impossible: “I have a daughter. No one knows. She’s nearly four, and she means everything to me. Her father—we weren’t married—never acknowledged her, and she’s been sick a lot. She’s why I’m here, to get her a better life. I’d planned on telling whoever I married that I was a widow. I respect you too much to lie, though, because I know you value the truth. So.” I finally took a moment to breathe, just as Winnifred and Joan walked by, calling greetings. “You should know that before you really ask me to marry you. Good night.”
I hurried away after the other girls, wondering what I’d just done, and leaving Gideon staring into the distance.
* * *
“We could reach Cape Triumph today.”
The proclamation came two days later, from one of our guides, and it made every conversation stop. Eyes widened, mouths dropped.
Startled by the reaction, he added, “But . . . there’s no guarantee. The Flower Festival’s tonight, and if it looks like we won’t reach the city until evening, we should just camp until morning.”
“Why?” demanded one of the sailors. “After this nightmare, I think we’re due for a celebration.” A few echoed his sentiment.
“The city’s chaotic. Try to bring in a caravan like this after dark, in the midst of all that? It’d be a mess. If you’re trying to visit someone, they’ll probably be out. If you’re planning to stay at an inn, there won’t be room. And it’d take forever to drive some of these wagons through the streets, as crowded as they get.”
But he assured us we’d do our best, and we moved with a renewed vigor. Cape Triumph. Finally. I was well ahead of Merry and eager to get things prepared for her . . . whatever those things were.
Since telling Gideon my secret, we’d had no extensive conversation together. He behaved the same as always to me when others were around, but we never had a moment alone, and I often spied him watching me thoughtfully. I’d questioned myself constantly over whether telling him had been the right thing to do. But I’d meant what I’d said about honoring how he valued the truth. I couldn’t go into marriage with someone like that under a lie.
Of course, if I’d just outright rejected him, there would have been no need to tell him. But I hadn’t. His words had made me
realize I did want to have it all—or, well, some of it. I wanted someone I could care about—maybe even truly love. I’d written that off, but Gideon had given me hope in his declaration and then in the fact that he didn’t immediately rescind the offer.
But he also hadn’t returned to me with open arms, issuing assurances of his continued love for me and acceptance of Merry. As time passed and his silence grew, I began to doubt myself. Could I have it all in a marriage? Or had I once again slammed into another obstacle in Adoria?
* * *
Evening brought us to a small town called Helm, and here our guides called a halt, eliciting groans. We were only about three hours from Cape Triumph, but that would put our arrival right in the middle of the city’s revelries. Captain Milford agreed with the guides and had to do a great deal of threatening to keep some of his men from sneaking off. It helped that Helm was holding its own Flower Festival, and while the scale was probably nothing next to Cape Triumph’s, it was a happy diversion for us. The town’s bachelors were equally happy to have twenty young women show up.
I was tempted to sneak off to Cape Triumph too. But, as anxious as I was to get settled there and reunite with Mira and Adelaide, I would see my “pretty little birds” through to their nest.
I pushed aside my worries and let myself actually have fun. A fiddler and piper played music in Helm’s square, and those of us in the Glittering Court fell into the delightful task of teaching the locals some of the complicated ballroom dances we’d had to master. I even showed Captain Milford how to do a waltz, and we were both surprised at how good he was.
After two hours of dancing, breathless and laughing, I took a break and went searching for a vendor who’d been selling lemonade and mead. As I was about to hand her a copper for my lemonade, a voice behind me said, “I’ll cover that and have one myself.”