September 24th, 1891 — Emrys' Home, Bristol
She wasn’t certain she would be able to contain herself with him so close. It was a normal refrain when she near him, absence usually muddying her best-laid plans to make him wait, but tonight was new territory. She hated it.
She knew something was wrong, had never been ‘right’ after her surprising him months ago, but the depth of his deception was overwhelming. Almost as corrosive to her pride as his dogged insistence to keep her in dark about everything. She had kept her word and he’d kept his secrets, but for what? She’d honored his privacy and he’d been courting a girl that still belonged in the nursery. So much for loyalty and all the ridiculous things her irrational heart decided existed between them. She was the true fool here. For months, she’d allowed her emotions to run unchecked whenever thoughts of Emrys Selwyn came to mind. She’d dreamed things; been naïve enough to believe the words he wrote her and the ones he whispered to her in passion; she’d made the single mistake she’d sworn never to make again and now she would pay for it.
After the ridiculous gossip magazine announced his courtship, she held her peace until she was safely back to her quarters. She maintained her silence until she’d warded her rooms, and then she broke. The anger and feeling of foolishness, she could freely admit, but the heartbreak, the feeling of loss was more than she could stomach. She did not lose, and she certainly did not love. One, both, or neither was true.
She still dressed for his eye; still wore the smoky quartz necklace and earrings he’d given her so early into their arrangement. All signs pointed to a witch at ease in the familiar home of her lover, but looks were deceptive things. She'd managed to greet him with a chaste kiss even as the gesture left her feeling soiled. She'd maintained the brittle facade of small talk as they ate, even as she had to fight to swallow the few bites she dared try. She wanted him miserable and guilty, but the longer she waited for him to say something, the more ill she felt.
Even escaping to the familiar privacy of one of his drawing rooms only tightened the knots in her chest. She'd given him time (so much time) to confess his failures, to lie to her, anything besides this unspoken tension between them. He'd had every opportunity to be a gentleman - or even a cad - but still, she waited. When she retreated moved away to the fireplace, she let the heat fuel her resolve. She'd waited long enough for him. "There seems to be something you failed to mention in our time together, my dear." The endearment was spoken out of habit, but the fire in her eyes and tension in her body were at odds with the sentiment. The man dear to her was more a stranger to her now than he had ever been.
She knew something was wrong, had never been ‘right’ after her surprising him months ago, but the depth of his deception was overwhelming. Almost as corrosive to her pride as his dogged insistence to keep her in dark about everything. She had kept her word and he’d kept his secrets, but for what? She’d honored his privacy and he’d been courting a girl that still belonged in the nursery. So much for loyalty and all the ridiculous things her irrational heart decided existed between them. She was the true fool here. For months, she’d allowed her emotions to run unchecked whenever thoughts of Emrys Selwyn came to mind. She’d dreamed things; been naïve enough to believe the words he wrote her and the ones he whispered to her in passion; she’d made the single mistake she’d sworn never to make again and now she would pay for it.
After the ridiculous gossip magazine announced his courtship, she held her peace until she was safely back to her quarters. She maintained her silence until she’d warded her rooms, and then she broke. The anger and feeling of foolishness, she could freely admit, but the heartbreak, the feeling of loss was more than she could stomach. She did not lose, and she certainly did not love. One, both, or neither was true.
***
She’d waited a week for this ‘reunion’ of sorts. He’d written her nothing after the Witch Weekly bombshell and all she’d written was her confirmation to expect her Friday evening as if nothing had changed. She’d had days to work through her most troublesome emotions, enough time to assemble her armor and solidify her plan for the evening. He most likely expected hysterics or some sort of screaming display of feminine outrage, but she had no interest in giving him what he expected. No, she would let him choke on the anticipation of her reaction. Let him feel an ounce of the anxiety she’d been drowning in.She still dressed for his eye; still wore the smoky quartz necklace and earrings he’d given her so early into their arrangement. All signs pointed to a witch at ease in the familiar home of her lover, but looks were deceptive things. She'd managed to greet him with a chaste kiss even as the gesture left her feeling soiled. She'd maintained the brittle facade of small talk as they ate, even as she had to fight to swallow the few bites she dared try. She wanted him miserable and guilty, but the longer she waited for him to say something, the more ill she felt.
Even escaping to the familiar privacy of one of his drawing rooms only tightened the knots in her chest. She'd given him time (so much time) to confess his failures, to lie to her, anything besides this unspoken tension between them. He'd had every opportunity to be a gentleman - or even a cad - but still, she waited. When she retreated moved away to the fireplace, she let the heat fuel her resolve. She'd waited long enough for him. "There seems to be something you failed to mention in our time together, my dear." The endearment was spoken out of habit, but the fire in her eyes and tension in her body were at odds with the sentiment. The man dear to her was more a stranger to her now than he had ever been.
![[Image: NpMgQU7.png]](https://i.imgur.com/NpMgQU7.png)
