Page 28

“I wonder,” he said, “if there might be more than mere friendship between us, much as I value that.”

Ah. The moment had come, then, had it? How foolish of her to be a bit surprised and to feel totally unprepared. She did not say anything, though he paused to give her a chance. What was there to say?

“Will you do me the great honor of marrying me?” he asked her.

Just like that. No bended knee. No taking of her hand in his and turning to gaze soulfully into her eyes as he raised it to his lips. No flowery speech of undying devotion. Just the straightforward question. She was relieved by that. She would have been horribly embarrassed…It would have seemed out of character after what had been a quietly developing attachment.

But how was she to answer?

Was it not obvious?

This was what she had wished for, after all. In the quiet of the past few months, she had recovered from whatever turmoil her feelings had undergone over Christmas and had hoped Mr. Courtney would be here for Easter and that their acquaintance would take a step forward into something more personal.

Yet somehow this seemed like more of a leap forward than a step.

Why was that? He was exactly what she had wished for. He was gentlemanly and personable and intelligent and interesting and kind. The list could go on. She liked him; he liked her. She did not feel self-conscious with him. She was not beautiful, and he was not handsome. Yet she was not ugly either, and he was pleasant looking. She had got to know him gradually and surely fairly thoroughly over the past couple of years. She was confident that they would always enjoy each other’s company and be comfortable together. He was someone for whom she could feel a deep affection, and she believed her affection would be returned. He even seemed fond of children. There was nothing about him she did not like, in fact.

She had hoped for this. They could have a summer wedding at Ravenswood, and then…

She drew breath and opened her mouth to speak. Even now he was not looking at her. He was gazing out to sea instead, his hands clasped behind his back. He was nervous, she realized. She wondered if this was the first proposal of marriage he had ever made.

She was going to say yes.

But that was not the word that came out of her mouth.

“I am sensible of the great honor you do me, Mr. Courtney,” she said.

He turned his face sharply toward her, his eyebrows raised.

“I like you exceedingly well,” she said, determinedly looking into his eyes. “I am just…not sure.”

His face almost noticeably sagged with relief.

“But you are not rejecting my suit out of hand?” he said.

She hesitated. “N-no,” she said. “But I do apologize. I do not wish to give the impression that I am playing some sort of coy game with you. I genuinely do not know. But it would be unfair of me to ask you to give me more time.”

“You have not asked,” he said. “But I am willing to give it. Can you at least give me hope?”

She hesitated again. “I am really not sure,” she said. “I am so sorry.”

He took her right hand in both of his at last and smiled at her. “Your answer does give me hope,” he said, “even if it is only a glimmer. I am sorry if I spoke prematurely, but you must have guessed my intentions. It seems I miscalculated your readiness.”

“No,” she said. “I am genuinely honored. I truly esteem you.”

“Esteem.” He chuckled ruefully and released her hand. “I must go inside and take my leave of your brother and his wife and thank them again for the magnificent meal following upon that lovely church service this morning, always the most joyous of the liturgical year. Even more joyous than Christmas.”

How wonderfully well he was taking the humiliation of her rejection, which must have been unexpected. Even to her it was. He was a true gentleman.

She turned to make her way back to the house with him.

Her original plan had been to stay another week at Penallen and then go to spend a couple of weeks with Nicholas and Winifred at their home south of London. She was longing to see them again. And she was looking forward to seeing their cottage, over which Winifred had gone into rhapsodies in her first letter after Christmas. They had told her in Winifred’s most recent letter, to which Nicholas had added a brief postscript, that they had something to tell her. She could not wait to learn what it was, though it seemed obvious what it must be.

After Easter Sunday, however, she could not wait any longer, though she was with Ben and Jennifer. She had more or less refused the marriage offer of a man who did not deserve rejection and to whom she had given every reason to expect a different answer. Not that she had said an outright no, it was true. But…Well, she could not face meeting him again this week, and it would be unfair to stay and perhaps cause him to remain at home in order to avoid her.

She left on Tuesday.

“I am sorry,” Ben said when he hugged her goodbye. “When Courtney asked me if he might address you, I made no objection, though we both understood, of course, that you do not need anyone’s permission, least of all mine. I thought you favored him. If I had known—”