The wedding invitation had a golden bezel. Even though it was not mine, I was still glad to have selected it.

As I sat in the carriage taking me out into the country, I turned that invitation over in my hand. Summer had come and gone and with fall setting in, the breeze brushed against me lovingly.

That morning, I'd had many stops. The first was a doll shop to see an older version of the woman I love puttering about. As this was my second time visiting that particular store with the owner unawares, I knew her schedule well. My second stop was that of the chapel.

My invitation afforded me access to the blessed event. Seeing my beloved stand beside a frog was the limit for me and I quietly slipped out before the priest finished with his tired, useless speech.

"Marriage is a union strengthened by love." Blah blah blah.

It took everything in me not to take off my boot and sail it at his head.

So I left because if I didn't, I'd have done something drastic and ruin this for her.

This next stop wasn't originally on my list of places to visit today but upon walking out of that chapel, I had to go somewhere, anywhere that wasn't close enough for me to run back and stab a newlywed groom to death.

So I got in the carriage and instructed the coachman where to go.

That was an hour ago. And in that time, I'd gone through a myriad of emotions. I loved her, so I fought back tears. I hated her, so I fought back tears. Now I loved her again and I feared for what I'd wake up and do in the morning.

Four months ago, the night I took her home from the theater had promised me so much.

In the carriage she'd clung to me. When I'd taken her into the house, she'd clung to me. I'd brought her into her room, set her to stand, and apologized, all the while readying myself for bad news.

"Had...are...how far had he gone?" I asked.

Instead of meeting eyes with me, she brushed my coat open and snaked her arms around my torso. And there she stood, clutching me like a lifeline and I'd been in heaven.

That wasn't the feeling the situation deserved, I'd known that, but what else could I do? She hadn't spoken a word to me for one month straight.

I was glad then—glad to have rescued her. But then it dawned on me. I'd been the one who put her in danger.

My original delusion for why I forced her to stay didn't hold weight now. I hadn't protected her. In fact, due to my negligence, she'd nearly lost everything that night.

So why had she kissed me? More than once, I'd revisited that moment again and again, desperate to make sense of it.

I was wrong, I'd been wrong in all facets and yet, she embraced me. At first, I wasn't sure if I should hold her in return; I didn't feel worthy.

But then I finally did and she pressed her injured cheek against my chest and rested for some time.

If the world had ended in that moment with us just as that, it would have been enough for me.

Then again, with what she said next, it did end.

"Let me go," she begged.

My hands sagged to my side and I opened my mouth to apologize but the words came again.

"Please, let me go."

So I did.

The next morning, she was gone.

This invitation was the only evidence I hadn't imagined her.

My chest had felt tight from the moment I'd seen it three weeks ago to now.

No. I didn't take this as a mocking. She'd done it to bring some finality to it all, perhaps. I did not know. Perhaps she was just doing something 'proper' because it was customary to invite those held in high esteem to such an event.

Her mother was in the same town, at a shop down the street from the chapel and received no such honor.

I was proud.

Equally, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me. Every second of every minute.

The carriage came to a halt and I popped my head out and took in the aged estate.

It didn't look so bad now that I was this close. Before, I'd passed by on horseback and stopped only to hand the post to a strange looking servant who happened to be at the gate.

The letter was addressed to Edmond so when he opened it without hesitation and started reading with a big smile, I, on the other hand, nearly fell off my horse.

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We shared no words between us because I turned around, raced back into town, and got blind drunk for an entire day. From my manor to this estate, it was a three-hour trip by carriage.

I was in no hurry to get home, so I stepped out, dressed for a wedding I'd never attend, a wedding now good and over, and made my way to the door.

There didn't appear to be anyone home. One knock turned to two before the door opened.

Whoever let me in ran down the hall before I could get a proper look.

The gaping door before me, I muttered, "Excuse me," under my breath and stepped in. Still no one.

Inside looked far better than the exterior. There was even a room to receive guests, nearly as fancy as my own, and I ducked into it and made myself comfortable.

Someone would see to me eventually, I supposed.

Books lined the walls, reaching even the ceiling. My heart swelled at the thought of the governess perhaps spending her free time here studying.

A smile cracked through my doom and gloom as I scanned the spines, searching for her favorite title.

I didn't find it, but I met up on a figurine.

A bird made of bronze raised its wings and threatened to take off from the shelf once its job of adequately stopping the row of books from toppling had ended.

I held its beak, smiling as I twisted it. Had the governess ever done this as well?

It broke off in my hand.

A gasp left me and I looked around, frantic to find some place to hide this evidence.

Someone cleared their throat, so I shoved the metal bit into my vest pocket and turned with the intent of looking down on whoever it was.

At my height, that was a common thing. Not this time.

I had to look...up.

My lungs pushed all the air out of me. Finally, I remembered myself and extended my hand for a shake, "Mason Chamberlain. It's nice to meet you."

His dark eyes looked from me to my hand then back again before he accepted my shake.

The grip was like a vice.

"Edmond," he answered.

I didn't want to but I had to look at the contrast of the nearly black skin to my own pale one.

As wonderous as it was to see someone like him in the flesh, I had bigger concerns.

"You're here about Poppy," he said.

"Poppy?"

With a smirk, he traced the right side of his face and I fought back a smile.

"The governess, yes. Yes, I am." Even her nickname was adorable. Oh, how I hated her. I needed to remind myself of this.

His eyes settled on my vest and I looked down to see what caught his interest.

"Oh. Oh, yes, this is an invitation but...but not for you," I stuttered.

Upon realizing what I'd said, I struggled to correct my wording.

"It's quite all right. Her mother and her don't see eye to eye at this moment so I was genuinely surprised."

He said it as if it was a great travesty. I should have minded my manners but I couldn't. "Can you blame her?"

Edmond closed his mouth and shook his head. But the pleased expression provoked me to anger.

"Surely, you don't defend her. That mother forced her to eat her pet rabbit for crying out loud!"

Other than a fast raising of his eyebrows, Edmond remained unmoved.

Finally, he sighed, shaking his head. "I wish I could say that was the worst thing she'd ever done to her but...."

"What? What else could there be?" I raised my hand to stop him. "Actually, do not tell me. I don't think I could take much more."

Edmond took me in then sighed. "So...she would not marry you, I suppose...because of me?"

I was ready to deny it but the words wouldn't come out. Instead, I told him about her life as I knew it. I conveyed that my parents and even my little sister had gone to the wedding to show her support and that her side of the aisle, though meager, was not empty.

"That's good," Edmond attested. "I'd started saving a dowery—"

"My father paid a little. It was the least he could do for his illegitimate child."

This time Edmond's brows rose. "Oh?"

That fiasco, I explained as well. When he looked at me with admiration, I felt even worse.

"I'm sorry she couldn't see your devotion. You have done so much for her."

"Here." I handed the invitation over. "I think you should keep it. I won't have need for it now."

His black hand gripped the cream card and that was that.

He asked me, "Could you find it in your heart to forgive her? I'd like to say the women in this family don't end up hurting each other beyond repair but...whatever Poppy's put out, it's because of what she's taken in from life."

Eyes cast low, I nodded. "I just wanted you to know that she'd found others who genuinely cared for her. And the man she's married, he's an accomplished writer. So you won't have to worry."

With a measured bow, he said, "I thank you." The smile took some time to form. "I suppose you don't want me to tell her mother."

I gave no answer because he already knew my stance.

Three hours of driving amounted to ten minutes in the end. Edmond offered me coffee to which I refused. In fact, I nearly began shaking from the awful memories the invitation conjured up.

After giving him the information about her location and her new husband, I bade him farewell and entered the carriage. It was late when I reached the city again, in time to see the governess's mother standing on the street, waiting. I wasn't sure why until I looked behind me to find Edmond's carriage at a distance.

All this way. It was a good hour, just to pick her up and bring her home. Still, he looked pleased.

I stepped out of the carriage by the chapel and instructed the coachman to go back home as I would find my way later on.

And so, I began to walk. There was one bridge in the city and that was my final destination at nightfall because I'd decided to throw myself from it.

The size of the cobblestones had changed by the time I realized my blunder. My suicide note, the one still misspelled because I did not think she deserved a second rendition, was still in my vest pocket. I'd intended to leave it with either the coachman or in her favorite book.

Maybe one day, she'd find it in some romantic gesture and see how much I loved her. Or she would have found it and hated me for being selfish enough to ruin her favorite book.

Now I had it and if I jumped into the river, it was coming with me.

I let out a sigh and paused in my stride. I could go back but if I did, I feared I wouldn't have the willpower to do this any other day. Right now, I felt low, the lowest I'd ever been.

"Blast it," I grumbled and marched onto that bridge. The dim candlelight of the poles illuminated the drop only by a fraction. I decided to go further in, right at the center where it was highest, to ensure a swift end.

It was there that I saw someone climb up on the banister, readying to leap. No. This was my moment. I refused to share it with anyone. And that buffoon was lingering on there so long that a constable was sure to see us and ruin all my best laid plans.

My feet fell faster as I closed in. Even this couldn't go right.

Upon reaching the stage-stealer, I was beyond outraged. The nerve. The actual nerve.

"Get down this instant," I screamed. "You get down!"

I'd lost my wits by the time I simply climbed over the banister, hellbent on at least being first. There was no time to stare out into the night longingly. Perhaps change my mind and at least get a final drink before returning drunk and stumbling over.

No.

But that no longer mattered.