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“Your Grace,” said Lord Pembroke, when the cups had been passed. “I will be brief. It is not an occasion for speeches. The Dowager Duchess has told me what she wishes, and I have told her what I will and will not allow. I will not force my daughter into any marriage. Lydia is nineteen and has a mind of her own, and no title in England is worth a daughter’s unwilling hand.”

“I have never suggested otherwise,” said Tristan.

“No. But your mother has had papers prepared, and I understand that you did not request them.” The earl waited for an answer.

He could feel Lydia’s attention like a change in the temperature of the room. He could not look at her. He looked at the earl.

“That is correct.”

“Then we have no offer to consider yet.” Pembroke set down his cup. “Your Grace, I will not ask Lydia to accept a marriage you have not asked her to make.”

Tristan heard his mother’s chair creak. For once she remained silent. Lydia sat with her hands folded, watching him, and the sight of her waiting among arrangements made in her name made him ashamed in a way the carriage conversation had not.

He could stand up. He could leave, deal with his mother, and allow Harrington to come tomorrow without a duke’s shadow across the threshold. He imagined doing it, and found that the thought of Lydia’s absence was no longer a relief he could honestly claim. His mother might have brought him here, but she had not made him want Lydia. That had happened of its own accord. He could walk away, leaving Lydia free to choose another man. The thought was unbearable.

“Lady Lydia,” he said. “Will you consider marrying me?”

She drew a breath, looking briefly at her father before returning her attention to Tristan. “Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“I know our mothers wish it. I should like to hear why you do.”

The countess lowered her eyes to the tea tray. Tristan could have supplied position, suitability, every answer the room knew already. Lydia had not asked for them. “I like being with you,” he said. “I have missed it since you left. I do not find that I can dismiss it as easily as I expected.”

Her expression altered, and he felt the danger of how little truth was required to give her hope.

“I am not easy company,” he added.

“I had noticed.” She allowed him a small smile. “I have not asked you to be easy.”

Pembroke spoke before either could say more. “Lydia, you need not answer today. You may refuse, and this family will stand behind you.”

The countess set down the teapot without pouring. Edmund turned from the window. Tristan wished they would all look elsewhere; Lydia had enough to consider without every face in the room urging an answer.

Lydia looked at him.

She took time over it. He had liked that about her when the question concerned a drawing; now he wanted to interrupt, to offer her some easier account of himself. She glanced once toward her father and then back at him. He could hear the little hiss of the kettle on its stand.

“I will accept him,” said Lydia.

Her voice was quiet, but it carried to the window. Edmund let out a breath, and Tristan realized that he had been holding his own.

“Lydia,” said her mother faintly.

“I have thought about it, Mama. I would like to say so.” She had not looked away from Tristan. “I do not do it lightly. I do it because I believe we might make something good of it.”

“Then we can discuss the arrangements,” the Dowager Duchess said. “The solicitor has the particulars. A license can be sought without delay.” She turned to Pembroke. “Would Thursday be too soon?”

“It is soon,” the earl said. “The settlements must be satisfactory first. And Lydia must be satisfied.”

When the party rose, he found himself in the passage beside the stairs with his hat in his hand and no clear knowledge of how he had come there.

“Your Grace.”

He turned. She had followed him out. The door to the drawing room stood ajar behind her, and through it came the murmur of the mothers and the clink of a spoon on porcelain. She stood in the shadow of the stair, upright, with her hands clasped before her, and the color in her face was higher than he had seen it.

“I wished to say,” said Lydia, “that I am glad.”