Mr. Archer’s brows drew tight together, and he leaned back to study her, though Katherine knew none of the pain showed at present. It helped that the initial shock of the moment had faded, filling her with a cold numbness and making her feel like a doll held up in his arms rather than a lady of flesh and blood.
“I am not speaking only as a friend, Miss Leigh—though I do count you as my dearest—but the past few weeks have helped me see that you are everything I wish for in a wife.” The gentleman fairly babbled as he spoke, his words coming hurriedly as though he was desperate to get out every word before she disappeared.
And that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Katherine ought to have known better than to trust Benjamin to guard Mr. Archer without spilling some of her secrets. Mr. Archer’s explanations were perfectly sound, and she felt certain he believed them, but if the road to hell was paved with good intentions, the mortar binding the pavers together was desperation.
How long before Mr. Archer realized he’d mistaken the longing to keep his chum as love? Plenty of fools convinced themselves that a fleeting passion was something substantial, especially when fate attempted to pluck the object of their desire away. Nothing rushed love quicker than the thought of losing it.
Patting his chest more forcefully, Katherine freed herself from his hold. “I am honored by your declaration, Mr. Archer. I am. However, I cannot help but feel your epiphany concerning my ‘perfection’ is rather conveniently timed. You’ve had months—years, really—to see me as something more than your older sister, and it is only when the clock strikes twelve that you show any romantic interest in me.”
“I would say the timing is rather inconvenient,” he replied with a frown.
She straightened the music in her arms. “It is flattering, Mr. Archer, and I will miss our friendship as well. But I am not interested in being the lady you settle for simply because you cannot find your Mystery Lady and are afraid of losing my company.”
“You are not my second choice,” he said, stepping closer, but Katherine moved away and warded him off with a raise of her hand.
“That is kind of you to say, but I will not allow you to bind yourself to me out of some misguided determination to keep me close,” she said, turning towards the door.
“I know my own heart, and I won’t give up, Miss Leigh,” he said, his tone as unshakeable as any she’d ever heard him use. Mr. Archer stood there, his own chin lifted as though mirroring hers, and his jaw was set as though ready to do battle. But there were no demons to fight.
Katherine paused, swallowing past the tightness in her throat. “Go find yourself a proper love, whoever that is.”
Mr. Archer gave no sign that her words shook his resolve, and he watched her with those eyes that so often saw to the very heart of her. “There is no one more proper for me than you.”
Forcing her feet to move, Katherine strode towards the door with her head held high. And only once she was safely at home, hidden in her bedchamber with the door locked, did she allow the tears to flow.
Chapter 39
Silence could be such a heavy thing, pressing down with a substance and form all its own. Despite Katherine’s sister sitting on the sofa opposite, neither lady spoke, and the sharp tick of the ormolu clock punctured the quiet like the needles in their hands.
Pushing it through the muslin, Katherine stitched the thread along the faint marks of the pencil that outlined the design. Ivy wound along the edge of the white fabric with flowers of pink, blue, and purple sprouting in clumps. She didn’t know what images she would put inside the needlepoint frame, though she rather liked the idea of a quote or verse.
With quick movements, Katherine tied off the stitch and clipped the thread. Holding the embroidery hoop, she examined her work. Her eyes fell to an uneven stitch, and she frowned at it. Despite knowing no one else could see the imperfection, it was frustrating to know it was there.
“I have a frame that would look lovely with that,” said Rosanna.
Katherine couldn’t help but stare at her sister. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “That would be wonderful.”
Casting a glance about, as though Mama might suddenly leap from behind an armchair (despite knowing the lady was paying calls elsewhere), Rosanna added, “I am certain it will look perfect in your parlor. I understand the cottage is near the shore.”
“I can hardly wait to see it in person,” said Katherine, threading another color into her needle. “Benjamin says it overlooks the cliffs and boasts a lovely view of the ocean. I have long wished to visit the shore.”
Rosanna smiled, her own needle making quick work of a torn seam. “Once you are settled, Malcolm and I would love to visit.” Rosanna’s brows pinched together, and she hurried to add, “If you wish us to, of course.”
Good heavens, the conversation was so discomforting. Yet Katherine’s heart warmed with each awkward attempt her sister made. The conflicting emotions set her insides churning until she wasn’t certain whether or not this was a good development.
“Perhaps you could come during the holiday break and bring the children as well.” Katherine paused, searching for something to say to prod the conversation forward, but chatter wasn’t her forte. Silence was her preferred form of communication when it came to her family, and it was difficult to undo a lifetime of habit.
She glanced at Rosanna and scoured her thoughts for something to say. “How are Layton and Samuel enjoying school?”
Rosanna’s light eyes rose to meet Katherine’s, and a smile blossomed on her lips. “Samuel adores it. He is so like his papa and adores being surrounded by all the other boys—”
“And like his mama,” added Katherine with a wry smile.
“Yes, and like his mama,” amended Rosanna before launching into a description of the boys’ letters and the reports the school sent on their behalf. As Katherine adored her nephews, it was an easy enough subject to expand upon, and soon a conversation sprouted from that hastily planted seed.
Katherine kept her gaze fixed on her work, and despite her mind being engaged with the conversation, her thoughts couldn’t help but drift to all the new alterations in her life. Even a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have imagined sitting with her sister and having a proper conversation.
“Oh, and I completely forgot!” Rosanna gaped, dropping her sewing and reaching for her bag. Digging through the contents, she pulled a roll of papers free and handed them to Katherine. “Prudence wanted to join us, but she is feeling poorly—”
