She wanted this time to be so different.
Catherine shakes her head, the baby hairs on the back of her neck brushing Rosalie’s fingertips. “I don’t have the money, or the breeding—I’m far outside my station.”
“What?” Rosalie asks with a startled laugh.
Catherine stiffens beneath her hand. “It’s not funny.”
Rosalie blows out a breath, cupping the back of Catherine’s neck more firmly. Relief courses through her that this isn’t abouther, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important. How could Catherine ever think— “I thought you were about to say something else. And that’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” Catherine says, her hands unclenching beneath Rosalie’s palm. “I don’t know how the courses come out, or how the laws work, and I’ve never traveled. You and your brother, and Mr. Dean—you’ve all had so much experience. I can’t keepup. I don’t know why my mother thought I could ever compete with you, or travel in your world,” she whispers.
Rosalie shakes her head, taking one of Catherine’s twitching hands in hers and squeezing. “You are far smarter than Mr.Dean. Far more compassionate than Mr.Tarton. And if you could have gotten my brother’s education, you’d be dancing circles around him in Latin. You lack nothing but opportunity.”
Catherine stares at her, her face softening just a hair, and Rosalie feels some of her confidence come swelling back. “You are extraordinary, and I’d rather talk with you than any of them any day.”
Catherine’s lip twitches upward in a half smile. “Thank you.”
“And that’s the point, right? Why we’re here? To spend time together?” Rosalie encourages, trying to reclaim the looks they shared at dinner, the press of Catherine’s shoulder in the carriage.
But it has the opposite effect. Catherine bites at her lip and flits her gaze away, looking toward the fireplace.
“Is... there something else?” Rosalie asks, fear creeping back into her chest.
“I just— No matter how much you like me, I’m not—I’m not like Mr.Dean. In... more ways than one.”
“Ways I like very much,” Rosalie says quickly.
Catherine huffs a little laugh. “But what comes next?” Catherine asks, meeting Rosalie’s eyes again. “What can I be to you? Just a country girl. Just a girl, at that. How does this work?”
Rosalie hesitates. They’re questions she’s been asking herself. Questions she decided didn’t need to be answered this weekend. A choice she made for them both, it seems.
She has to stop doing that.
“I don’t know,” Rosalie says softly.
“If you were a man—”
“We wouldn’t be alone together right now,” Rosalie says with a snort.
Catherine giggles, the sound a welcome relief.
“But if youwere, it would all be very simple, wouldn’t it?” Catherine continues. “Get engaged, get married, have children.”
“All laid out and plain,” Rosalie agrees. “Is that something you want?”
“Something simple?”
“A man,” Rosalie says, more serious. If they’re having this conversation, then she wants to have it.
She’s never gotten to before. Jane didn’t give her the choice to even try.
That’s a wrong she wants to right with Catherine. So they both have a choice.
“It’s what Mother says I should want,” Catherine says slowly.
“But is it? Do you want a man, a husband?” Rosalie presses.
Catherine’s other hand closes over Rosalie’s, holding tight. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I’ve wanted you.”
