She swung her feet off the bed, frustrated with her own indecisiveness, and went about preparing for their meeting.
“You will be faced with a test. A test of courage. A test of faith. Your happiness depends on passing it.”
Madam Zeta’s words had taunted her all night.
Was this the test? It had to be. Was she a coward if she didn’t marry him? Was she a coward if she did? And faith in what? Her father? Reed?
Herself?
Goldie shoved one last pin into her coiffure. Updos invariably never contained her hair for very long but this one was going to have to suffice.
No doubt when she returned, at least half her curls would be dangling around her head.
But that wouldn’t matter. Goldie’s hand shook.
Once she’d given him her answer, she’d return home and have a good cry.
She donned her gloves, drew a shawl about her shoulders, and tiptoed out of her room.
Mr. Bulwark was away from the door when she crept through the foyer.
Perfect.
And as she marched solemnly toward the park, her heart sank with each step. There was only one answer, really. Because he was asking too much—for her to take such an irreversible step required far more courage than she possessed.
Final Answer
Reed paced back and forth on the path where they’d agreed to meet, avoiding looking into the sunshine thanks to the throbbing behind his eyes, compliments of his indulgences just a few hours before. Despite bathing and drinking a horrid concoction sent up by the cook, his head ached, his stomach churned, and his thoughts weren’t as clear as he’d like.
“Reed?” Her voice sounded sweet and fresh as it drifted across the lawn. “Am I late?”
She wore a garish yellow dress, but on her, somehow, it chased his gloom away.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t smiling.
He glanced down at his fob. “Right on time, Sunshine.” Straightening his shoulders, he braced himself for the worst.
“I won’t waste your time with excuses and reasons. Oh, Reed, I’m so sorry. I can’t do it.” She sounded out of breath, as though she’d been running. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.
Reed swallowed hard. It was as he expected. He’d hoped, yes. But had he really imagined this lovely young woman would marry him under such havey-cavey circumstances?
“You’ve no need to apologize, my lady.”
“Goldie. Please, Reed. I am still your friend.” She placed a hand on his arm, and he dropped his gaze to study the intricate lace of her gloves.
Friend?
“You are right in your decision.” Had he known this all along? Was that why he’d drowned his concerns the night before?
But the lump in his throat felt larger than before—the vise squeezing his chest even tighter.
“You look pale. Will you walk with me?” she asked, and when he didn’t move, she dropped her hand. “That is, unless you don’t want—”
He reclaimed her hand. “No, I do. I’d be happy to…” He ought to be hastily making his way home. He ought to be frantically searching for some other option.
But there were none, and oddly enough, he wanted a few more minutes in her company. Despite her refusal, this sweet young woman he’d only just come to know was a balm to his soul.
“This way.” He vaguely remembered seeing a folly set along a different path, one with a bench. They could sit together. He could simply be in her presence—soak up her peace.
