He loved her.
It was a terrible, crushing sensation, wholly unlike the expectations he had fostered for years. Love was meant to be a soaring flight of the heart. A realization that this person, and this person only, would fulfill his waking dreams. It should bring peace and exhilaration, all at once.
It did none of that.
For this love, his love, was not to be.
Miss Lockhart would laugh with Arthur Westbridge. Pore over scientific studies with him. Dance upon his arm. Sleep within his embrace.
He really was the perfect man for her. And now she waited, with the innocent zeal of a child, for her sister to allow them that one critical step closer.
“On what day is this talk to be given?” Mrs. Sinclair asked.
“It is on Wednesday. Four days hence,” the doctor replied.
“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Sinclair seemed genuinely regretful. Her brows tugged downward. The edges of her mouth did likewise. “We promised the children a picnic on Wednesday. We have already given their tutor the day off.”
“I could accompany her,” Charlotte offered. “As long as we sit near the back, far from any”—she shivered—“specimens.”
Confound his thoughtful sister! If not for her, the doctor’s offer to Miss Lockhart would come to nothing. Did she not see the danger of bringing them together?
“Oh,wouldyou?” Miss Lockhart seemed ready to throw her arms around Charlotte. She lifted folded hands to her sister, as if pleading, which was exactly what she did. “There can be no faulting Mrs. Trenton as my chaperone, surely? She is as sensible as she is kind. And I shall be on my very best behavior, I promise. Oh, do sayyes, Hope. Please?”
Mrs. Sinclair looked at her sister, then considered Dr. Westbridge. No doubt she saw what William had seen. That this was a man who would make a fine husband for her little sister. He was a true gentleman. He earned a good living and would not discourage his wife in her most earnest pastime. It was, therefore, no surprise at all when she nodded.
“I can see no reason why Mrs. Trenton should not accompany you, if she is willing. That sheiswilling is proof yet again of her goodness. It is well we have a picnic planned. At worst, we may come across some ants, perhaps some bees, or, if we are very unlucky, a wasp. All of these are still better than a room full of beetles. I admire your fortitude, Mrs. Trenton, for even the farthest seat at the back of the room would not entice me.”
“Oh, do not describe it so!” Charlotte cried, screwing her face up as if she had bit into a lemon. “I am not as brave as you think. But, having offered, I do not wish to disappoint Miss Lockhart. Let us turn to other subjects. It is best I do not dwell on the topic of insects until I am standing in the rooms of the Entomological Society.”
“Why do you not join us for the next dance?” suggested Captain Larson. “The new line is forming, and I see Nathaniel Macrae heads the top this time. He always calls the most elaborate figures. Miss Lockhart could use your support, as she appears to doubt herself in this. And it is a matter utterly devoid of beetles.” Despite his usually formal manner, Captain Larson let the smallest of smiles slip across his lips. It contrasted so starkly with his dignified bearing that it made him look almost playful, which had likely been his intention.
“Do take me dancing, James,” Charlotte said, hugging her husband’s arm. “We have spent near half the night in chatter. While I do enjoy the company of our friends and relations, theycan always come to tea. We cannot always dance. It won’t be many years before we are considered too old to join in.”
“With pleasure, my dear.” James strode at once toward the center of the room, his wife waving her fingers over her shoulder as she departed their company.
“Miss Lockhart.” Captain Larson bowed, then offered his arm.
William watched as she placed her gloved hand upon his, watched Larson grasp the tips of her fingers and lead her toward the line. He watched with envy and regret. If he had taken his chance with her, they would be married now, or at least engaged. And every dance with her would be his to claim.
He saw her stand shyly opposite the captain. Larson did not make easy conversation. She did not laugh but cast nervous glances at Charlotte.
Nathaniel Macrae—blond, athletic, undeniably charming, and mercifully too much of a Don Juan to appeal to Miss Lockhart—waited until the last straggling pairs had joined, then began to explain and demonstrate the figures he had in mind. They were complex, sophisticated, and he performed them with grace and ease. But Miss Lockhart gripped her fan and chewed her lip. Larson did not seem to notice.
The dance began and the first couple proceeded to exhibit their skill. Captain Larson watched them as if they were soldiers completing a drill, focused on their precision, nodding his approval almost imperceptibly.
Charlotte chatted merrily to both James and Miss Lockhart. She called across to Captain Larson, breaking his attention that had been locked on to Macrae and his lead partner. The captain answered, the slightest bit of color creeping into his cheeks. His gaze shifted to Miss Lockhart.
There it was. William had been waiting for it. The admiration. The awe. Larson was now as focused on MissLockhart as he had been on Macrae. Idle conversation would not be easy for him, but, by gum, he would try!
William sighed. The rest of the night would be filled with more of this. Every gentleman who danced with her would have the same reaction. They would marvel at the starlight in her white-blonde tresses, the gem-like quality of her ice-blue eyes. One by one, they would note the way she minimized her own qualities, wrongly assuming she was docile and willing to submit her own worth at their feet.
She deserved better. William wished it for her. But was he the man to offer it?
Not yet. He must be sure he had left his old self behind. He needed more time with Miss Lockhart to make certain he understood her needs and that he could meet them.
But he wouldn’t have the time. Tonight, the gentlemen of Munro would be planning their courtships of her. And William? Well, he would soon be off to war.
Perhaps, then, friendship was all they could have. If only th—
