Hart was lost, only knowing Fleur McQuoid had ruined him.
Chapter 24
“Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all.”
~Lord Byron
As Julia sang her love to Licinius, Henry finally looked at Fleur.
And at last, Fleur had her answer—this was all in vain. Everything Lord Cassian, Jeremy, and Linnie helped put into motion, the nudge is what they had called it. The hate blazing from Henry’s eyes had burned the last of her hope.
Io tremo… eppure t’amo.
I tremble… and yet I love you.
His loathing and mistrust pressed in—too great for them to overcome. There had never been love there to begin with, not from him. Hers, yes.
Allora vieni!
Then come with me!
Sì… ti seguirò.
Yes… I will follow you.
But then his note had arrived, and he had signed it a friend, and once again she had gone and made something more out of nothing.
Mustering a dignified grace she didn’t feel, Fleur excused herself from the room and went in search of Linnie and Jeremy, stepping into the hallway where unfamiliar voices echoed.
They needed to take her from this place, take her far—.
Suddenly, someone snaked an arm around her waist.
As Fleur found herself snatched inside an alcove, she opened her mouth to scream the theatre down.
A familiar voice whispered against her ear, three words. “You and Kilmartin,” His whisper, harsh like cut rocks.
Fleur went absolutely motionless. Her heart thumped so loud that Henry must hear it.
“Henry,” she whispered.
“You did this to make me jealous.”
His expression turned black. So black she wanted to lie. She gave it a real thought, but then decided nothing was better.
She trembled.
And she wanted to ask if it had worked, and wanted him to say yes, because then it would mean he cared about her. It would mean that she wasn’t the only one suffering at the sight of him with another, and that he suffered too, but then she needn’t have asked anything after all.
“Quale silenzio funesto!”
What dreadful silence is this!
The faded sounds of a tenor’s song whispered into the alcove.
“You blasted minx,” he rasped, pressing her against the wall, “Giving that smile of yours to Kilmartin to enrage me.”
“You big-headed lummox believing everything is about you,” she whispered furiously. “I gave Lord Cassian nothing.” Fleur thrust her shoulders out. “He earned my smile. You, on the other hand, have earned my ire.”