“May I come in?” a devastatingly familiar voice asked, freezing Belinda in place.
Dora shot to her feet.
“Oh, hello! Yes, please do.” Looking to Lindy, she laughed. “I told you I saw your uncle’s doctor!”
Belinda's eyes seized upon the man.
Why on earth is Mr Alwyn here?Holding onto her chair’s back, she stood slowly to her feet.
Clutching his satchel in the doorway, he certainly did look like the doctor he was training to be — a respectably commanding presence in his dark frock coat. But under the brim of his top hat, his face looked wary, and a sudden realization gripped Lindy's heart.
“Is Uncle George alright?”
“What? Yes! I beg your pardon, Miss Everson. I didn't mean to frighten you. I’ve no reason to believe that Mr Caspar is unwell this evening. I’m here for a different reason.” He stepped into the box and put his doctor's bag aside, glancing at Miss Hartley. “But first, might I meet your friend?”
Belinda barely heard the request through the whirring in her mind.
Has he come to make me that offer? I have no answer ready!I would he had arrived just five minutes later!
In the uneasy pause, Dora took it upon herself to tell the man her name and hear his. Even as the new acquaintances were still murmuring pleasantries, Belinda blurted, “Have you come to talk to me about your aunt?”
Releasing Miss Hartley’s hand, Mr Alwyn furrowed his brow.
“Myaunt?”
“Mr Sliger said you are set on finding her a companion.”
“Sligertold you aboutmy Aunt Joan?”
“Yes, but Mr Alwyn, I must tell you that although I know it would be a great honour to serve your family in such a rôle…I cannot think to…that is, I am certain thatIam not the proper person for the position.”
His eyes, narrowed in perplexity, suddenly widened in realization.
“Miss Everson, I don’t mean toemployyou.” His countenance and voice softened. “Rather, I have other, vastly dearer, hopes.”
The floor seemed to shift and Lindy tightened her hold on the chair.
Looking back and forth between her and Mr Alwyn, Dora shut her gaping mouth, then cleared her throat loudly.
“I’ll just go and take a turn in the hallway.” Receiving no response, she slipped out of the box.
Mr Alwyn started again, intensely. “Miss Everson, I am done with sideways speaking.”
He began to lower himself as if to kneel on one knee, soon growing frustrated as the confined space would not allow for it. Straightening up, he reached out and lightly covered Lindy's hand on the chair back with his.
Feeling its warmth, she was compelled to look up at him, though she quaked inside.
“I will ask you now what I wanted to ask weeks ago when we were last in Trippingham together...Miss Belinda Everson, will you marry me?”
Marry him? Weeks ago? Has guilt for kissing me hounded him all this time?
She swallowed, then opened her very dry mouth to speak.
A Proper Wooing
HAVING DELIVERED what he was certain was the worst proposal in the history of the world, Alwyn held his breath, awaiting Miss Everson’s answer.
“Mr Alwyn,” she began, guardedly. “No virtue was compromised that day when you kissed my wrist. You needn’t make amends, especially by such drastic means. I understand that a fleeting touch” — she looked down at his hand upon hers — “can spark unintended consequences, some quite plaguing.”
