“But Sir Julian is, well... he’s in love with you, isn’t he? That’s what all the hinting about a marriage proposal was about?”
Ophelia frowned. “What marriage proposal?”
“In your letters! You kept talking about possibly finally receiving a marriage proposal. You never said who, so I assumed it was Sir Julian! He followed you to Paris, after all. And the way he looks at you, it’s as if daisies were springing out of your head.”
“I wish daisies were springing out of my head,” Ophelia grumbled. “Far more interesting than being jilted.”
Justine gasped again. “Who could jilt you? Honestly! First, though. Marriage proposal. Who is it if it isn’t Sir Julian?”
Ophelia tried very hard to keep a neutral face. “Lord Fairport.”
Justine screwed up her face, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she reached back into the memories of the ballrooms. “Ugh. Really? Didn’t he try to marry your sister?”
“And now me,” Ophelia said, raising her arms, and then letting them fall down and hit herself. “Ow.”
“I’d prefer Sir Julian,” Justine said.
“So would I, but it isn’t up to me, is it?” Ophelia said.
Justine poked her in the ribs.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“I wanted to see if you were real. Because Ophelia, when was the last time something you wanted didn’t happen?”
“You make me sound like a spoiled child.”
“I don’t mean it like that and you know it. I mean that you work for what you want. You see it, you want it, you get it, whatever it takes.”
“And what you don’t understand is that I’m not good enough. Example, I didn’t summit the Matterhorn.”
“If another woman tells me that she is past her prime after twenty-five, I’m going to scream.” Justine threw a pillow across the room. “And being intimate with a man and climbing the most dangerous mountain in Europe arenotthe same.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I’m saying that I can’t do what I set out to do. That these challenges are too big, whether it’s the Matterhorn or pursuing Sir Julian. He was absolutely clear about that.”
Justine put her hands together had took a steadying breath. “Darling. You are literally perfect. There is no one in the world more perfect than you, and I know that because I’ve met you and I’ve met them. And they are terrible.”
“That’s a very limited sample, Justine.” Her friend’s loyalty was zealous and biased, but it still made Ophelia feel better.
Justine held her finger up, as if she were making an academic point. “But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
“I don’t know what happened, really. Everything seemed fine. I thought he really liked me, and then when I asked him deeper questions, he wouldn’t answer me.”
Justine’s mouth twisted off to the side and she frowned. “Firstly, I’m absolutely on your side no matter what. I will burn his house down for you if you like.”
“Please don’t.”
“Well, the offer stands. But what did you ask him, exactly?”
The question made Ophelia feel very small. “I don’t wish to say,” she whispered.
Justine looked at her with pity. “Oh, my darling. Is this your fault?”
“I don’t know.” Ophelia threw her hands up in the air and sat up, suddenly agitated where she’d been completely lethargic. “He had said I was special, and I believed him. He said he’d never felt this way before. And I wanted to believe him, but you know how I prefer numbers to feelings.”
Justine lifted her eyebrows and nodded. “Very aware.”
“I wanted a number, so I could make a statistic. Am I special in terms of one in fifty?”
