Chapter Text
Eloise's hands shook with nerves almost every time she lied. She had been caught before because of it, so this time she was sure to hide them behind her back, fidgeting with the seam of her gloves. Cautious, careful, scheming, and just so she could sneak off to town without anyone asking questions. She hated to hide, but it was worlds better than her brothers knowing. As much as she loved them, she knew well that there was plenty behavior of hers that they wouldn't approve of.
"Benedict, do you know where Mama is?" she asked her older brother, trying to sound as nonchalant as one could when they could barely manage to breathe.
He looked up at her from his sketchbook, brows furrowed. There was a hitch in her breath while he thought. Benedict was perceptive, not as much as Anthony, but what if... "I do not think I do, but perhaps I can help? What do you need?"
"I just wanted to inform her that I am to be meeting up with Penelope Featherington today, for a walk in the park. I would not want her to see me missing and worry."
"Ah, easy enough! I shall make sure she knows when I find her."
She smiled. "Thank you kindly, Brother. I will be sure to be back before nightfall." He nodded along, thankfully more interested in his drawings than her words.
Her steps were heavy on the way to the carriage she had requested. It had been so long since she'd been to the print shop. Months. Even with her family so distracted by Anthony and Kate, she had not found a proper time to sneak off. Or perhaps, although she'd surely cringe to admit it, she was simply afraid to. She had called their friendship foolish after all, and too dangerous to maintain. And then... well, unmasking Lady Whistledown had surely changed the circumstances, but she feared it was already too late.
"Miss Eloise," said the footman, snapping her out of her worried daze. "Forgive me if I overstep, but are you quite sure you want me to take you to the print shop? Last time I took you there, you came back quite upset."
She cleared her throat awkwardly, and handed him a wad of money. "I appreciate the concern, but I will be fine."
He nodded, quiet, and opened the carriage door.
Eloise spent the journey there sick with dread. She was rehearsing what she would say to him. I'm sorry was all she could think of, and all she could hope is that the words would come to her when she saw his face. But, then again, it seemed she tended to forget what she wanted to say when she saw his face, not remember it.
God, she could barely wait to see his face again. That smile of his haunted her dreams.
She stepped out of the carriage, giving a little nod to the driver.
He was already visible through the shop's window, hard at work as he always was. What was he thinking about? What would he think when she walked in? What would he say? So many possibilities flew through her mind, so many that eventually she had to just stop thinking and open the print shop door. Finally.
The creak of the wood was deafening, but then the familiar smell of ink and paper filled her lungs, and the sound of him humming a tune she'd never heard. She took a deep breath and stepped through.
Eloise couldn't have put her finger on what she was expecting, but what she got was silence. Not a glance from him, if he even noticed her. She carefully moved a stack of papers to sit on the infrequently-used wooden stool next to the work table. And then she sat, silent. There was so much to say, but she couldn't seem to let out a word. Instead, she closed her eyes and listened to the rustling paper, the pressing of ink, the soft creaks of the floor whenever he shifted his weight.
"Mr Sharpe," she said quietly.
Theo.
"Miss Bridgerton, I think it would be most proper for you to leave." His voice was soft, but resigned. Eloise had prepared herself for anger, but this wasn't it. More like... pain. That was worse, surely.
She opened her eyes and sighed, staring at the floor. "I know you must despise me now, but I need to talk to you. Please, hear me out." Her voice cracked on the last few words, and she almost cursed herself for it. I must keep it together.
She finally found the courage to look up at him, and saw brown eyes staring back at her expectantly, leaning against his table, his palms pressed flat against the surface. "You have my attention, my lady."
"I... I have no reasoning that would excuse my behavior, but I want you to know what happened, and more importantly, I want to apologize. I would not expect you to forgive me, and I promise you that you will never have to see my face after today." She took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best way to explain what had happened.
"You said it isn't proper for me to be here," she whispered, "but I never cared about what's proper. I know... I know I messed up. It is not because I do not care for you, or that I do not wish to meet with you. The truth is, I was scared, and for no good reason either." She chuckled, bitter and sour.
"I do not wish to bore you or waste your time with the details, but Lady Whistledown was closer to me than I thought possible. I fell for her tricks and it led me to act a fool. I... apologize. You deserve better than I gave you, Theo. I keep replaying that moment over and over again in my mind, and I-" She choked, hiding her face in her hands. So much for keeping her emotions tame.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, you found her then, did you? Whistledown?"
"Penelope Featherington," she said, trying to inconspicuously wipe the tears from her eyes.
"You forget, Miss Bridgerton, I have yet to get to know all the ladies of Mayfair as well as you do."
"My best friend. I confided in her, about you. She printed my name in Whistledown so I would be scared to see you again, because of the print shop. She did not wish to be caught."
"You came back, even when it was unwise to. So tell me what changed between then and when you called our friendship absurd, and between that day and now." He looked desperate, like he was searching her eyes for a particular answer, which she couldn't give him.
"I wish I could tell you, I-"
He shook his head. "You left as soon as my company became difficult. Perhaps it would be better if you spent these hours with your Lady Whistledown instead of spending them here." The words hurt him to say. It could be heard in the cadence of his voice, the way his eyes never met hers. He had made up his mind. Eloise wondered, though she knew it was foolish, if he worried he would change his mind if he looked at her again.
"It is not Penelope I want to see; it is you. Pen was dear to me, but it is you I choose to spend my time with now. Please," she pleaded. Her heart had dropped to her somach. She had been ready to leave, if that was what he wished, but seeing him again, talking to him again... Without the power of Lady Whistledown hanging over her head, it felt different. She felt free.
He sighed, turning his attention back to his papers. "I am no object, Miss Bridgerton. You can not just say my company is absurd one day and come back the next time you find yourself in need of something to do. I am no toy for you to play with right up until things become difficult. I know that must be difficult for a lady such as yourself to understand."
"I consider you a friend, an equal," she protested.
He gestured towards the door, eyes on his work. Still, she noticed, he didn't seem to be doing much, only trying to appear busy. "In theory, I believe you, but it seems as if it did not take much for your friend to convince you I was not worth the trouble."
Eloise nodded. "I... I respect your wishes. Again, I apologize," she stammered out, stumbling to her feet. Guilt weighed heavy in her heart. She didn't think it possible to feel so hurt, yet to have no injury in sight. It was hard not to run as she left the print shop, but she stopped at the door, turning to look at her friend's face for the last time.
He was looking back, hand held over his heart.