He didn’t say anything for a long time. If it had been anyone else, she would have been worried he was laughing at her behind the newspaper. But not Oliver. She knew he was thinking, considering, weighing.
Finally, he put the newspaper aside and looked at her intently.
First, she was too young. Next, he was too old.
Then, he surprised her by discussing pleasure. She tried to be as honest with him as she could be. But it was all mixed together in her mind. His release. The one she had given herself afterwards. Holding a little baby with dark hair. The dreams she’d had about him for so long.
He promised her he would think on it. She knew he’d come to a decision that was right for him, for her, for Nathaniel. Oh, was it selfish to hope the right decision was the one she wanted?
Probably.
She didn’t have to wait long. When she came back from her morning ride the very next day, he was standing outside the stables. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept.
“Good morning,” she called out.
“Good morning,” he replied. “I was hoping to speak with you before we break our fast.”
After she had dismounted and left Zephyr in the hands of a groom, she joined him.
“Let’s take a stroll,” he said. “If that’s all right?”
She nodded, and they walked silently next to each other, down the lane.
“I’ve never seen you ride,” he said.
He hadn’t?
“You have a very good seat. But I didn’t expect . . . you ride at quite a fast pace. I didn’t know a draft horse could fly like that.”
“Yes. We love to gallop, and Zephyr is like the wind. That’s how he got his name.”
A pause. “Were you using the saddle you made?”
“Oh, no, that’s . . . no.”
Silence.
“You look tired, Oliver.”
“I have been considering your proposal.”
She had caused those dark circles under his eyes, the deepening of the grooves by the side of his mouth. Oh, how she longed to touch his face with her fingertips and soothe away those lines and shadows.
He went on, his voice somber. “Nathaniel’s mother, she died because— Bearing a child is a dangerous undertaking.”
“Yes, but lots of women have children and survive. My mother, five times. And aren’t most things worth doing also a little dangerous?”
He grimaced. “Like riding your horse so fast?”
Oh, yes. Oliver hated danger. Last month, Nathaniel had gotten it into his head to climb a tree like the caterpillar in her story. She thought he could try the sturdy oak with thick limbs not a yard off the ground, and she was there, ready to give him a boost if needed, ready to catch him. But Oliver had seen and raced from the house and pulled Nathaniel off the tree, scaring the boy.
He hadn’t scolded Henrietta right away, even though she could see he was furious. He had waited until Nathaniel was in the nursery with Nurse Witherspoon, and then the two of them had had a long conversation in his study about what Nathaniel could or couldn’t do. It was the closest thing to an argument they’d ever had.
After Henrietta had explained how young all her brothers and sisters had been when they had started climbing trees, Oliver had relented but said he wanted to have a good talk first with Nathaniel about never climbing anything unless Oliver was there.
“Or me,” Henrietta had said.
He had studied her for several long seconds as if assessing her strength, her agility, herlovefor Nathaniel, and then said, “Or you.”
