But everything inside her froze as he added, “Perhaps I might speak to your father before we go.”
There was no mistaking the significance in his tone. Mr. Highmore had been clear in his intentions from the beginning, but this was the most direct statement he’d made since their first outing together. Why couldn’t it have arrived a week ago or a few weeks from now? Marian wouldn’t have hesitated to accept the situation before George had altered things so completely with that ridiculous kiss. And with a little more time, she could discern George’s feelings.
Instead, she was dancing with a man on the verge of proposing a sensible marriage while her heart yearned to cast him aside and find the man who had featured in so many of her dreams and fantasies. The man who may or may not love her as a “woman, woman.”
Despite her confusion, Marian knew she had arrived at a pivotal moment. To say nothing to Mr. Highmore would raise his expectations. To tell him the truth would remove a certain marriage prospect in favor of a risk. She would be entirely at George’s mercy once more. What if he thought he was in earnest, only to change his mind once again?
The interlude with Mr. Townsend and Miss Finch was a stark reminder of the fickleness of men. Though Miss Finch was confused by his behavior, Marian was certain the cad was the sort to stoke a young lady’s feelings to suit his vanity. When Miss Finch showed so little interest tonight, it pricked Mr. Townsend's inflated pride, pushing him to pursue her. Marian had seen such things often enough to recognize the signs, and though she thought George better than that, she would be a fool not to consider the possibility. He was attentive when Mr. Highmore was a rival; how would he react if the fellow was gone?
And George was the sort of fellow who could marry any young lady of his choosing. Ladies often looked lovelier in candlelight, but what would happen in the light of day? Would his pretty words disappear like the morning dew?
Question after question flew through her thoughts while Mr. Highmore expounded on his plans for the day. With each word, it became clearer that not only did he plan on proposing, but he anticipated her acceptance. Marian’s lips pinched together, and she let out a slow breath, forcing herself not to scowl at the fellow. Of all places, he chose to mention this now. During a dance. Not when they were in private but sprung upon her amid a crowd where several ears were turned towards their conversation. At least he wasn’t announcing it to the ballroom.
Marian’s thoughts drifted to the many dreams she’d had for her proposal. The certainty and anticipation coursing through her as she and her beau stood together, just the two of them. An intimate moment that involved only them. A quiet engagement and wedding without all the pomp and circumstance inherent in such ceremonies. Simple. Quick. So that the pair of them could begin their lives together immediately. Not putting things off for a silly party.
And in every image and thought, it was George who featured as the groom.
Marian’s heart pounded, her breaths coming in shaky bursts as she considered the situation once more. An act of courage had hurt her so very much all those years ago, would she allow fear to dictate her life now? Clarity settled over her like a warm cloak, wrapping her in its comfort. Her insides continued to wrench and twist, but despite all the unanswered questions, Marian was certain of one thing—she would rather gamble on a chance to be with George than accept a mediocre life. The former may end in disaster, but the latter had no chance of being a success.
“I fear I must decline.” Marian’s voice quivered, her mouth growing dry as the weight of her words pressed down on her with all the finality of her choice. “I beg you not to speak with my father, Mr. Highmore.”
The fellow gave her a pitying smile, as though he was about to pat her on the head like an errant child. “I do not think you grasp my meaning, Miss Wakefield.”
“I assure you I do, and though I am honored by your regard, I fear I must decline your forthcoming offer. Your regard means so very much to me, but I cannot accept.” Marian cringed at her wording. Surely there was some better way to explain the situation. She sounded stilted. Was it too forward to speak as though it was a foregone conclusion that he would’ve made an offer? Though she was certain that was what was to come, her insides clenched at the assumption.
Mr. Highmore paused mid-step and nearly collided with another gentleman. Snapping back to himself, he continued through the movements, and Marian was pleased for a moment of peace to gather herself when they were forced in opposite directions. Yet she also wished the whole ordeal was done and over with; stretching it out was only prolonging their agony.
Once they were standing side by side again, Mr. Highmore turned his gaze to her. “I must say I am quite shocked, Miss Wakefield. You have welcomed my attentions—”
“I have, Mr. Highmore, and I apologize if I have caused you any distress, but our time together has shown me we are not suited for one other. You would do far better with a different bride.”
“Nonsense,” he said with a shake of his head. “The children adore you. Yes, I have been concerned at times that your outspoken nature might not be the best example for my daughters, but you have improved much of late.”
Had Mr. Highmore given any other argument, Marian’s courage may have failed her, but his words brought George’s to mind, and the rightness of this action settled into her bones. A man who adored her passionate heart. A man who wanted the whole of her—not just the demure or motherly bits.
Now, all Marian wanted was to be done with this wretched dance.
“I assure you there are plenty of ladies who will fill the role of mother quite nicely and will make a far better companion to you than I,” said Marian, her eyes darting to the sides of the ballroom. Scouring the faces, she found not the one she longed to see.
Mr. Highmore continued in the same vein, his tone taking on a hint of irritation, but more as though it were a mere inconvenience than a true slight.
Marian’s resolve strengthened. The die was cast. Now, she must simply see what rewards it gained her. But as she considered the possibilities, she knew one thing was certain: should George cast her aside again and she be forced into matrimony with one of Papa’s cronies, Marian would not regret taking this leap. Better to try and fail than spend her life wondering if she might’ve had something better. And there would be nothing better than winning George’s heart.
“If that is the case, then I see no reason to continue this dance.” Mr. Highmore offered up his arm and led her from the floor, depositing her to the side of the ballroom with a curt bow. She had pricked his pride, but she doubted the fellow would even recall this interlude in a year’s time. But she couldn’t spare another thought for Mr. Highmore.
Turning in place, Marian searched the crowd once more, but to no avail. Her heart thumped against her ribs, whispering to her that she knew precisely where George was. Whether it was the fact that she knew him so well or that her heart was so attuned to his, Marian’s feet walked the path without hesitation, slipping from the Finches’ makeshift ballroom and out a side door.
The moon hung high in the sky, and the night air nipped at her skin, though the heat from the dance and the coming conversation kept her skin flushed. Her slippered feet flew over the grass, taking the pathway down to the gardens. Memories rushed through her as she thought of all the times they’d sat amidst the flowers and greenery, and when she stepped beyond the hedges, Marian spied the bench they had so often shared.
And there, George sat alone, staring up at the moon shining above them.
Chapter 38
“You were saying?”
The words floated through the air, and George was certain his wretched heart had conjured them, but movement drew his gaze from the sky to find Marian walking towards him. The shadows leached the color from her, but the moonlight shone against her silk gown, making her look like some ethereal fairy from a long-forgotten realm.
George shot to his feet and found Marian standing close enough that her skirts enveloped his shoes. Her dark eyes held his in place, and he felt something different in the air around her, though he couldn’t decipher what it was; he couldn’t think properly with her so near. The scent of the flowers drifted towards him, enveloping him like a blanket.
