"Mr. Potter is a good match," Lady Smith continued, her voice taking on a lecturing quality. "He is not titled, but he has a comfortable fortune and excellent prospects. His family is respectable. His character is sound. He will provide you with a life of comfort and security."
"I do not doubt his character, Lady Smith."
"Then what is the hesitation? I can see it in your face that you are not certain." Those sharp eyes narrowed. "Is there someone else? Some prior attachment that prevents you from considering Mr. Potter's suit?"
Lillian's silence was answer enough.
"I see." Lady Smith retrieved her wine and took a measured sip. "I do not know what happened before you came here. I do not know who put that shadow in your eyes or made you so wary of happiness. But let me offer you some advice, Miss Whitcombe: do not let the ghost of what might have been prevent you from embracing what might still be."
"With respect, Lady Smith, I am not certain that Mr. Potter and I would suit as well as you believe."
"Oh?" One silver eyebrow arched. "And why is that?"
Lillian hesitated. How could she explain the subtle wrongness she had sensed; the way Edward's public behavior differed from his private attentions, the ease with which he had claimed her ideas as his own?
"We have had some conversations," she said carefully, "that have given me pause."
"Conversations." Lady Smith's tone suggested this was an inadequate reason for hesitation. "My dear girl, all couples have conversations that give them pause. Marriage is not a fairy tale; it is a practical arrangement between two imperfect people. The question is not whether Mr. Potter is perfect, no man is, but whether he is good enough."
"And is 'good enough' what I should aspire to?"
The question emerged sharper than Lillian had intended. Lady Smith studied her for a long moment, something shifting in her expression; not softness, exactly, but perhaps a grudging respect.
"You have spirit," she said finally. "I did not expect that. Most young women in your position would leap at what Mr. Potter is offering."
"I am not most young women."
"No. I am beginning to see that." Lady Smith set down her glass and rose, signaling that the interview was nearing its end. "Very well, Miss Whitcombe. I will not press you. But I will say this: opportunities like Mr. Potter do not come often to women of modest circumstances. Whatever ghost you are clinging to, make certain it is worth what you are sacrificing."
Lillian rose as well, curtsying automatically. "Thank you, Lady Smith. I will consider what you have said."
"See that you do."
***
The garden gathering on the fourth afternoon provided the final confirmation of Lillian's growing doubts.
Lady Smith had arranged an elaborate entertainment—tables set upon the lawn, games of bowls and archery, a string quartet playing beneath a canopy of silk. The weather had cooperated magnificently, and the grounds were alive with the bright colors of ladies' gowns and the darker hues of men's coats.
Edward found her almost immediately, his expression eager.
"Lillian. I have been looking for you." He offered his arm. "Will you walk with me? The rose garden is particularly fine at this time of day."
She took his arm, allowing him to lead her away from the main gathering. The rose garden was indeed beautiful; late blooms still clinging to the bushes, their perfume heavy in the warm afternoon air.
"I have been thinking," Edward said, as they walked, "about our future."
Lillian's heart sank. She had known this was coming, but she had hoped for more time—time to sort through her conflicting feelings, time to understand what she truly wanted.
"Our future?"
"Surely you must know what I am going to say." He stopped beside a particularly fine bush of white roses, turning to face her. "I have made no secret of my admiration for you, Lillian. You are everything I have ever hoped to find in a wife; intelligent, practical, capable. You understand estate management, you share my interest in agricultural improvement, you would be a tremendous asset to any household."
Asset.The word struck her oddly. Notpartner. Notcompanion. Asset.
"Edward..."
"Let me finish." He took her hands in his, his expression earnest. "I know this is sudden. I know we have only known each other a few days. But I believe, I truly believe, that we could build a good life together. My uncle's estate needs a capable mistress. You would have everything you could want; a comfortable home, security, the freedom to implement all those improvements we have discussed."
