Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(32)

She quit the flat.

She left his letter lying in a pool of sunlight on the floor.





PART TWO


News

from

Afar





{15}





The Third Alouette


The Oath Gazette was quiet.

Roman sat at his desk, notes spread before him. He stared at the blank page curling from his typewriter. He should be thrilled. He had solidified himself as the new columnist. He no longer had to worry about the things on his desk being rearranged. He no longer had to race to the bulletin board for assignments. He no longer had to pretend he was too busy for sandwiches.

If this was the life he wanted, then why did it feel so hollow?

He rose to get another cup of tea, avoiding the temptation to glance at Iris’s empty desk. But while he was spooning honey into his cup, one of the editors joined him at the sideboard.

“Feels strange here without her, doesn’t it?” she asked.

Roman arched his brow. “Who?”

The editor only smiled, as if she knew something Roman didn’t.

He was the last to leave the office that evening. He shrugged on his coat and turned off his lamp. He hadn’t written a word, and he was irritated.

On the tram ride home, he considered his options. His fingers thrummed over his thigh, anxious as he thought about the best way to handle the di lemma he was caught within. If he didn’t show any emotion, his father should hear him.

As soon as he reached home, he found Mr. Kitt in his study. On his desk was a strange crate, labeled with CAUTION and HANDLE WITH CARE.

“Roman,” his father greeted him, glancing up from a ledger he was reading. A cigar was clamped in his teeth. “How was your first day as columnist?”

“I’m not marrying her, Father.” The announcement rang in the air. Roman had never felt so relieved in his life until Mr. Kitt’s eyes narrowed. He took his time crushing his cigar into an ashtray and stood, his tall frame casting a crooked shadow.

“Come again, Roman?”

“I’m not marrying Elinor Little,” said Roman. He kept his inflection flat, his expression poised. As if he felt nothing and was merely stating a fact. “She and I are not a good match, but there are other ways I can serve the family. I would like to discuss them with you, if you have time tonight.”

His father smiled. It gleamed like a scythe in the lamplight. “What’s this really about, son?”

“It’s about my freedom.”

“Your freedom?”

Roman gritted his teeth. “Yes. I have already forgone one thing I wanted, based on your desires.”

“And what was that, Roman? Oh wait. I remember,” Mr. Kitt said with a chuckle. “You wanted to throw away years of your life studying literature at university. I’ve already told you once, but I suppose I should say it again: you can’t do anything with such a degree. But being columnist at the Oath Gazette? That will carry you far, son. I only want the best for you, even if you can’t see it now. And you’ll thank me one day when you understand better.”

It took everything within Roman to hold his temper in check. He ground the words he wanted to say between his molars and said, “I have gained columnist, as you wanted. At the very least, you should now agree that I have the right to choose who I want to marry, as you once chose Mother.”

“This is about that lowborn girl at the Gazette, isn’t it?” Mr. Kitt drawled. “She’s caught your eye, against all reason.”

Roman stiffened. He could feel the flush creep across his face, and he struggled to keep his voice calm, emotionless. “There’s no other girl.”

“Don’t lie to me, son. I caught wind of you having lunch with her the other day. And it was a bloody good thing your engagement hadn’t been announced yet, but what if the Littles had learned of it? What if they had seen you with her, the way you sat close beside her on a bench, sharing a sandwich, laughing at the things she said? How would you explain yourself?”

“It was strictly business,” Roman snapped. “We were discussing an article. And I didn’t pay for her lunch, just so you know.”

Mr. Kitt suddenly looked amused. Roman hated himself, especially when he remembered watching Iris reach for the coins in her purse at the deli. She almost hadn’t had enough, and she had chosen not to purchase a drink, as if she hadn’t wanted one.

He had paid for his sandwich, but not hers. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now he loathed himself for it.

Roman bit the inside of his cheek. Did his father also know that he had gone to Iris’s flat?

“I won’t see my grandchildren’s blood spoiled by the gutter,” Mr. Kitt said.

Then yes. He also knew about that visit, however brief it was, but Roman wouldn’t offer any explanations for it. Because no one had sent Roman but himself. Zeb Autry had been annoyed by Iris’s absence, and Sarah worried, but Roman was the one to grab her trench coat and look up her address and do something about it.

“Your prejudices are quite profound, Father,” he stated. “And you should stop having me followed.”

“I’ll call off my watch the moment you marry Miss Little,” Mr. Kitt countered. “And then you can sleep with whoever you want as long as you are discreet. You can sleep with your freckle-faced girl from the Gazette, but my one stipulation is you must not have pups with her. She’s far beneath you, son.”