I’ll be forced to propose to you and that would be the worst possible thing in the world for me, my family, and my fortune.

“I understand.” Viola gathered herself together. Of course they couldn’t do what she’d been wanting to do. They shouldn’t have done what they’d just done.

The spell was broken.

The music receded.

She came back to her senses. She was nearly naked.

She’d betrayed her feelings. She’d let him see how much she cared. How much she was willing to give him. How much control he had over her.

“Viola, speak to me.” He held both of her hands. “Do you want this?”

He meant: did she want to become his mistress. Because he couldn’t propose to her. She’d known it all along and ignored it.

“I think it’s best if you leave, Your Grace.” She twisted away from him, blindly searching for her clothing. She jumped off the bed, clutching her gown to her body.

“Wait, Viola. Let’s talk about this,” West said. She was upset and rightfully so.

“Just go, West.” She nodded at the door.

“I don’t want to hurt you. You’re too beautiful and filled with life. I want to see you blossom. Take your place on center stage. You should claim the musical prize you won. Steal the show as you did at the musicale.”

As she was in danger of stealing his heart.

“Are you saying that you’d like to see me marry someone else?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me to do this entire time?”

“Yes, because it’s the right and the prudent thing to do. Oh this is all such a tangle.”

He came to her, placing his arms around her.

“Viola.” He drew a ragged breath, resting his forehead against hers. He didn’t know what to say to her. He cared deeply for her but he was all wrong for her. She was a romantic who believed in love. He was broken, tainted, and lost. “What you said in the garden. You were right. I should read my father’s letters and let go of this anger and shame. But I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

“I know you can face this, West.” Even when she was angry at him she still cared enough to urge him to face his past.

A knock on her door sent them flying to opposite corners of the room. “Just a moment,” Viola called.

“Your father is asking for you, Miss Beaton,” the elderly manservant named Withers called.

“I’ll be down shortly.”

West helped her dress and stood for a moment, clasping her hands. “I wish circumstances were different.”

“It’s all right, West. I have no expectations. I want nothing from you.” She shoved her hair back into a knot and replaced her white cap.