“Girls are raised for marriage, are they not?” he said. “For being wives and carrying out wifely duties, including the running of the marital home.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why do they not all rebel?” he asked.
“Because we are raised to believe that is what we want,” she said.
“And is it?” He frowned. “What didyouwant, Elizabeth?”
“Marriage.” She smiled. “And happily-ever-after.”
“I am sorry it did not work out for you,” he said, searching her eyes with his own. “And now you want marriage again with a dull, solid fellow?”
It did seem a bit like madness when there were such things as laughter and joy in the world. But they were fleeting things and not always available. Solidity of character was dependable.
“I want my own home,” she said. “I want to be part of a couple so that I do not have to feel lonely at events like family Christmases. I want—I hope for—children.”
“Your need is emotional,” he said, “yet you look for safety and dependability. My need is practical, yet I dream of love. I would like to be in love with the woman I marry. But there are so many other considerations that I suppose are more important. I dream of perfection, Elizabeth. You do not dream at all.”
She felt stricken. Of course she dreamed. Oh,of courseshe did. Did he not understand that even her modest hopes might be beyond her grasp if no one offered for her? No one upon whom she could depend, anyway.
“I am being an insensitive lout, am I not?” he said when she did not reply. “I daresay you would prefer to be head over heels in love with Codaire if it were possible. I have made you look unhappy in the middle of a ball, when I should be making you smile. Let us talk about something else. I had a letter from Roe this morning—from Wren. She tells me Alexander keeps insisting that the baby smiles at him when she knows very well it is merely wind.”
“Ah,” Elizabeth said. “That is sweet. I so envy them.”
“Because they are married and in love?” he asked her. “Because they have a child? I was supposed to be changing the subject.”
“I had two miscarriages during my marriage,” she told him. And goodness, she was not in the habit of talking aboutthat. Never that. Even with her mother.
“Perhaps,” he said after a brief silence, his voice low and gentle beneath the hubbub of conversation at the long tables—and he reached out a hand to cover the back of one of hers—“you will have better fortune with Codaire or whichever of your suitors you choose to marry. You have had a number of dancing partners this evening. All the single ones among them must realize what a perfect treasure you are.”
“Indeed?” She smiled at him.
“Yes, indeed,” he assured her. “I am single and I danced with you. AndIrealized it.”
“You are both kind and gallant, sir,” she said lightly, still smiling, though it felt as though her heart was breaking.
“What I am,” he said, “is in awe of you, Elizabeth. The more I learn of you, the more I respect and admire you. You have incredible strength of character. I still think I ought to marry you. And that you ought to marry me. It would solve both our problems. We could trust each other, could we not?”
His eyes were twinkling, she saw when she looked into them, holding her own smile in place. “I believe the last time you told me I could trust you, you spilled me into a snowbank,” she said.
“And did you take a deadly chill or break every bone in your body?” he asked. “Or any bone at all?”
“No.”
“Well, then.”
They gazed at each other across the table, smiling and…Was there some undercurrent to the brief silence? Or was it only on her side? It was something achingly tempting. Something unmistakably sexual. And something unthinkable. Good heavens, hisoldersister was married to heryoungerbrother.
“I shall keep your offer in mind,” she said, “while I wait to see if I have a better one before the end of the Season.”
“Well, that is a death knell to my self-esteem,” he said, removing his hand from hers and sitting back in his chair. “I shall have to continue waltzing with you and using all my charm upon you until I can convince you that I am the only one for you. Confess, Elizabeth. Did you not feel it when you looked across the ballroom earlier at your mother’s bidding and saw me? Did you not feel the earth move? Did you not hear violins play?”
“Well goodness,” she said. “Do you mean that the earth did notreallymove? Do you mean the violinist was not really playing a romantic melody on multiple violins?”
But everyone about them was moving. The dancing must be about to resume. She had taken one bite out of a lobster patty during the past half hour and had drunk one third of a cup of tea. He had not done any better. He stood and offered his hand.
“Allow me to escort you back into the ballroom,” he said.
