Hartwick nodded. A satisfied smile curved his lips, indicating that he was quite satisfied with the situation. “For seven years now. Considering a matrimonial endeavor, are you?”
He was not yet certain on the matter, so he evaded the question and asked something far too personal for the casual sort of friendly acquaintanceship that existed between them. “Do you ever regret it?”
Hartwick laughed. Loudly and for far longer than necessary. “What man doesn’t from time to time? On occasion, yes. I think life might be more simple as a bachelor. But it would be terribly lonely, I think. And having been with my wife for seven years now, I can attest to the fact that I was not cut out for the lonely life of endless bachelorhood. For as much as I may have the occasional regret, more often than not I’m simply grateful she tolerates me. They put up with a great deal from us, you know? Is the lady in question amenable to the notion of marriage?”
“Not a clue,” Adrian admitted, hating that he sounded like some callow youth, too terrified to approach a woman. “I haven’t yet said anything to her about it. How exactly does one bring up a subject such as that?”
“It’s not a subject, you dolt. It’s a question. And a simple one. It helps if you’re holding a ring when you ask it,” Hartwick pointed out with a note of compassion. “You really are twisted up in knots about this!”
Adrian sighed. “I just wish I could feel certain which course of action to take.”
Hartwick made a slight humming sound as he considered the matter, before stating, “Surely during your courtship she’s given some indication of whether a proposal would be welcome.”
Adrian shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not unlike when he’d been a boy in trouble at school. “I’m not courting her. Not yet. And I may never. I’ve honestly no idea. I cannot decide whether or not the risk is too great.”
Hartwick studied him for another moment, then leaned forward. Resting his elbows on his knees, he offered sage advice. “You’re asking the wrong question, Grant. You don’t ask if it’s worth the risk. You must ask yourself ifshe’sworth it… Is she?”
A hundred times over. A thousand. There was no one more deserving and of greater worth than Eleanor was. That was evident to him in the fact that every woman he’d ever been introduced to had been compared to her and found wanting. Ultimately, his only real issue with any of the young women that had been thrust at him by their marriage minded mamas, was that they simply were not Eleanor. But Marklynne had seen it. He’d seen it instantly and had acted accordinglt which now prompted Adrian’s current dilemma. “What if I’m too late? What if someone else has already expressed interest and she has welcomed that interest?”
Hartwick shrugged. “She is not married yet, so hope is not entirely lost. And, I presume, no formal announcement has been made?”
“No… Not as of yet.” Though how long would he have before decisive action was taken?
“If you do nothing and she marries another, then she’s lost to you forever. And all you’ll have to keep you company is your curiosity about what might have been. But if you ask her and she says no, you’ll be just as alone, but not plagued by regrets of what you didn’t do. The real question, Grant, is which of those things will be the easiest for you to live with?”
“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t need your bloody guidance!”
Hartwick ducked his head to hide his laughter. “Then answer me this… how will you feel if she says yes?”
A dozen possible emotions flickered through his mind. Hope, happiness, relief,rightness—to name a few.
“Damn you, Hartwick. Why are you so bloody sensible about all this?” Adrian groused, but it was good natured grousing. Hartwick’s arrival was like divine intervention. He’d stripped away the dithering and doubt and left only the truly important question behind. To act or not to act was his choice, but it was a choice he’d simply have to live with. And so would Eleanor. Marklynne was not the man for her. Even if she refused him, he knew that Marklynne was all wrong for Eleanor.
“You are in love with this mystery woman.”
“I don’t know,” Adrian replied.
“That wasn’t a question, Grant. It was an observation. If you were not, you would not be in such a state of confusion and agitation about the matter,” Hartwick pointed out.
The man made it all sound so simple. And perhaps it was. Perhaps the complications were products of his own imagination. Perhaps he’d benefit from letting his fear ofchange, of altering his well ordered life, keep him from seizing a chance at true happiness.
“The influence of a good woman in your life will improve it and by extension, improve you. Not me, of course. I was already perfect,” Hartwick boasted jokingly. Then, with a quicksilver change into sincere advisor, he added, “Go talk to the girl’s family and tell them you wish to court her. The worst they can do is refuse you. The worst she can do is refuse you. I’d much rather know than wonder infinitely.”
There was no way to ask the other part of the question that plagued him. For all of his life, from boyhood on, Julien and Eleanor had been the only family he’d known. His own parents had died when he was so young that he barely remembered them. The uncle that had raised him had no use for children and would have left him moldering at school through every holiday. But the Harcourt’s had taken him in. And when their parents had died, he’d mourned them alongside both Julien and Eleanor.
What would this do to his friendship with Julien? Would changing his relationship with Eleanor mean sacrificing his friendship with her brother? Or would Julien welcome the opportunity for them to be brothers in truth? He couldn’t fathom what that loss would be like. But he couldn’t ask Hartwick that question without giving away the identity of the woman in question, and he was enough of a gentleman not to be bandying Eleanor’s name about in the club where anyone might hear it. He’d have gladly died before hurting her in anyway. But that meant speaking to Julien privately. And there was only one place to do that. The Ensley’s soiree was scheduled for that night. The sooner he did this, the sooner he could put an end to at least a few of his most plaguing questions. It would be full of dreadful music and equally dreadful people, but they wereall duty bound to attend having long been acquainted with one another.
If by chance she said yes— he didn’t dare think about it. It was one thing to consider his actions. It was quite another to paint the picture of that happy ending for them and have it wiped away. A thought that put him squarely back to the point from whence he started. Plagued by questions that would only be answered if he acted instead of vacillating impotently, Adrian tossed back his brandy and rose, purpose evident in every motion.“Ensley’s tonight?”
Hartwick grimaced as he nodded, an indication that the miserable nature of the Ensley’s soirees was well known and agreed upon y one and all. “Whether I wish to or not… Mrs. Ensley is a cousin to my wife. That’s the one unfortunate aspect of being married. Her family will become yours for good or ill.”
Chapter
Six
Eleanor resisted the urge to check her reflection once more. She quite literally had to steel herself to halt the instinct to do so. In part, because it shouldn’t have mattered. Lord Marklynne, the man to whom she might possibly become formally betrothed, would not be in attendance at the Ensley’s. He was elsewhere for the evening. No. She only had the urge to check her reflection because she knew that Adrian would be there. The ever hopeful part of her that kept saying ‘one day’ he might notice her in a different light was too stubborn to give over easily. And old habits—particularly the one of trying to make him see her as something more—were very hard to break. But she would break them. Because she couldn’t go on hoping and pretending all the time. It was time to put away foolish, girlhood dreams and accept reality, unpleasant as it may be.
So, with her shoulders back, her head held high, she sailed into the Ensley’s drawing room on her brother’s arm and tried not to look for Adrian. The warm room was not cloying and close as the Eagons’ had been, and yet there was a bit of a crowd. Small clusters of people were standing about, all of them deep in conversation. Across the expanse of the room she could see Charlotte there with William. Neither of them looked especiallyhappy to be in one another’s company which was quite curious as they’d been inseparable for years now. They were the most married unmarried couple she’d ever encountered. The spent more time in one another’s company than most couples did after marriage. He called on her religiously. Several times per week, he went to her home to spend time with her. They often drove in the park and attended all the same events. Charlotte had confided in her that William had proposed but that they were keeping it a secret until he finally inherited from his grandfather and they would be free to wed. His grandfather, it seemed, was a bit of a snob and would only be content for William to marry up rather than laterally. The whole of it reeked to her. Who was that spiteful and hateful old man to look down his nose at someone as lovely and kind as her dear friend?
