"I have." Lillian clasped her hands before her, maintaining the posture of calm composure she had cultivated over years of navigating difficult conversations. "I am sensible of the honour you have done me, Mr. Potter. Your offer was generous, and I do not reject it lightly."
"And yet you reject it nonetheless." His voice was cool now, the warmth she had grown accustomed to conspicuously absent. "Might I ask why? I had thought we suited rather well."
"We suited in many respects. But not, I think, in the ways that matter most."
Edward's expression flickered; surprise, perhaps, or the first stirrings of wounded pride. "I confess I do not understand. We share interests, temperaments, views on a great many subjects. What more could you require?"
Lillian hesitated. She could offer him a gentle falsehood; tell him that her heart was engaged elsewhere, that circumstances prevented her from accepting, that it was not his fault but simply the way of things. Such explanations were the currency of polite rejection, and he would accept them without further inquiry.
But Edward had been honest with her, in his fashion. He deserved honesty in return.
"When you proposed," she said carefully, "you spoke of the role I might play in your household. You mentioned that I could assist with accounts, advise on domestic matters, help select tenants for new leases."
"Yes. Important responsibilities. I thought you would welcome them."
"I would have welcomed them, had they been offered as a partnership. But that was not the word you used, Mr. Potter. You spoke of assisting, of advising, of helping. Always one step removed from the decisions themselves." She met his eyes steadily. "You said the arrangement would operate within appropriate bounds."
Edward's face went very still. "I do not recall my precise phrasing."
"I do. I remember it quite clearly." Lillian drew a breath. "You are a good man, Mr. Potter. I believe you would have been a considerate husband, attentive to my comfort and respectful of my opinions, within the limits you deemed appropriate. But I find that I cannot accept those limits. I cannot spend my life offering suggestions that may be adopted or ignored at another's discretion, never certain whether my voice carries weight or merely provides the appearance of consultation."
"That is how marriage works, Miss Whitcombe." Edward's tone had sharpened, the warmth of their earlier conversations entirely gone now. "A husband makes decisions. A wife supports those decisions. That is the natural order of things, established by law and custom and the wisdom of centuries. If you expected something different..."
"I expected nothing different. That is precisely the problem."
They stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick enough to touch. Lillian watched Edward struggle with his composure, the slight flare of his nostrils, the muscle jumping in his jaw, and she understood that she was seeing him clearly for the first time.
This was the man beneath the charming exterior. Not cruel, precisely. Not villainous. Simply certain. Certain of his own judgment, certain of his own worth, certain that any woman should be grateful for what he offered and foolish to want more.
"I see." Edward's voice was clipped now, his earlier warmth frozen into something brittle. "And this revelation came upon you suddenly, did it? Or were you merely using me to pass the time until a better prospect appeared?"
"I was not..."
"The Duke of Wyntham." Edward's lip curled slightly. "Yes, I noticed his arrival. Quite the dramatic entrance; riding through the night, appearing without invitation, looking as though he had been dragged through a hedgerow. The gossips are having a delightful time with it."
"His Grace's arrival has nothing to do with my decision."
"Does it not? Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe." Edward turned away, his movements sharp with barely contained anger. "You are making a mistake, Miss Whitcombe. The Duke is not what you imagine him to be. His family is notorious for instability; his parents destroyed each other with their passions, and he has spent his life hiding from any feeling that might lead him down the same path. Do you truly believe such a man capable of constancy?"
The words landed like blows, and Lillian felt her own temper stir. "You presume a great deal, Mr. Potter."
"I presume nothing. I merely observe." He turned back to face her, and there was something almost pitying in his expression now, the condescension of a man who believes himself wiser than those around him. "You are letting sentiment override sense, Miss Whitcombe. It is a common failing in women, and I had hoped you were above it. I see now that I was mistaken."
The insult was delivered with such smooth certainty that Lillian almost admired the technique. He was not raging or shouting; nothing so vulgar. He was simply dismissing her judgment as the product of feminine weakness, as though her decision could not possibly stem from rational evaluation of her own interests.
"I thank you for your concern." Lillian kept her voice level, though it cost her considerable effort. "But I am quite capable of determining what is and is not in my best interest."
"Are you? I wonder." Edward moved toward the door, pausing as he passed her. "When he disappoints you, and he will disappoint you, Miss Whitcombe, I hope you will remember this conversation. Remember that you were offered something solid and reliable, and you chose instead to chase after a man who cannot even master his own fears."
He left before she could respond, and Lillian stood alone in the conservatory, her hands trembling with suppressed emotion.
She had made the right choice. She was certain of that now, more certain than she had been before this conversation began. Whatever his virtues, Edward Potter was not the man she had believed him to be. The charming suitor who had listened so attentively, who had seemed to value her intelligence, had been a performance. The real Edward was the man who had just dismissed her judgment as the product of feminine sentiment.
But his words about Daniel echoed uncomfortably in her mind.He has spent his life hiding from any feeling that might lead him down the same path.
It was true. She knew it was true. The question was whether Daniel could change and whether he was capable of becoming the man she needed him to be.
She would find out soon enough.
