Page 48 of Courting Miss Lancaster
Oh, please no,Athena silently thought, her panic increasing by the moment. She had not sorted out the situation, had not determined what to do. Could she accept Mr. Dalforth’s offer knowing her heart was not involved? Could she refuse him knowing their engagement was talked of openly in society as an inevitable thing? Her reputation would suffer. And there was no guarantee she would ever receive another offer, as she was not at all certain Adam would allow her another Season.
“Miss Lancaster,” Mr. Dalforth began.
Athena tried to take deeper breaths, though her lungs seemed determined to deprive her of air.
“I have grown fond of you these past weeks,” he continued.
Fond.The word was monumentally disappointing. Athena, it seemed, was not the only one of them who was not in love. What a disaster!
“I realize that my attention could not possibly have gone unnoted, and I am aware that many in society have begun speculating as to my intentions and your expectations.”
It was not very romantic as proposals went. Was nothingabout this destined to match what she had always anticipated?
He paused as if expecting her to respond. “I do believe it is talked of,” Athena managed.
“May I be candid with you?” Mr. Dalforth asked, suddenly quite urgent and glancing at her, his forehead creased.
“Of course,” Athena answered. If she did not mistake his expression, Mr. Dalforth was very troubled by something. He certainly did not at all look like a besotted suitor.
They continued walking through the garden path, the chill air biting at Athena’s face.
“When I first made your acquaintance at the beginning of the Little Season, I did so with the hope of coming to know you better. I liked what I had observed of you and wished to know if there was more I might like, mightmorethan like. And I do like you.”
“But notmore than like?” Athena was beginning to suspect the direction of Mr. Dalforth’s confession.
“I have no doubt raised expectations,” he continued without answering her question. “If not specifically in your mind, then in society’s at the least. And I do realize that, as a gentleman, I could not honorably fail to act on those expectations. Let me say this before I continue. I do believe that we are fond enough of one another and would deal well together.”
That was very nearlyantiromantic. She sensed a “but” coming and braced herself for it. No matter that she was not enamored of Mr. Dalforth, there was something very lowering about his not being enamored of her either.
“But I have always wished for... more in a wife. Not as a person,” he quickly added. “I mean simply more in our feelings for one another. I had always imagined myself marrying for love.”
He seemed to be making the admission apologetically. Athena remained silent, confused and upended. Shewholeheartedly agreed with him, but what did that mean for their courtship or for his near-proposal?
“My parents’ marriage was arranged, and though I think they have made a relatively successful union of it, I can see that there is something missing. They are like two individuals living parallel lives. I wish to marry my friend, someone with whom I share interests and ideas, someone with whom I can be a partner. One’s entire countenance should light up, one’s heart should react when his fiancée is nearby. There ought to be... something more.”
“Mr. Dalforth,” Athena said, trying to grab his attention. His eyes were focused ahead, his tone indicating he was not entirely aware he was speaking to anyone other than himself. “I completely agree with you. I have always wanted precisely that sort of marriage myself.”
Reluctant relief swept Mr. Dalforth’s features. “You realize that your reputation, even more than mine, would suffer if, after the speculation that has arisen, we do not make a match of it.”
“I believe my heart would suffer even more if we did.” Why Harry’s face flashed through Athena’s mind with that admission, she couldn’t say. Perhaps because he of all people would understand, would empathize. Harry always seemed to understand how she was feeling. He had the uncanny ability to soothe her regardless of the circumstances. Harry would, undoubtedly, know how to relieve the sudden sadness in her heart.
She heard Mr. Dalforth sigh as if her answer had freed him from an onerous obligation. It was not a very flattering realization. Only the fact that she did not, particularly, wish to marry Mr. Dalforth kept her from feeling utterly depressed.
“I will be certain to show society that you and I remain friends, though I believe it would be best if we were seen to spend less time in one another’s company,” he said. “The LittleSeason will end very shortly, and by the time the Season is upon us, I believe expectations will have lessened significantly.”
“I believe so,” Athena acknowledged. There would be talk, she was certain of that. But an amicable split and the passage of time would help squelch any gossip that might arise.
Mr. Dalforth left a few minutes later after taking his leave of Persephone. Knowing she was bidding farewell to the only gentleman who would probably ever court her, Athena ought to have felt more disappointed. Mostly she felt tired, worn down from weeks of worry and uncertainty. She’d had her chance to find love, and it had slipped away.
She had the almost overwhelming urge to cry, though she could not say precisely why. And she wished almost desperately for Harry.
q
“You have a letter, Harry.” Jane held the missive out to him with a look of mischievous curiosity on her face. “It is franked by the Duke of Kielder. Perhaps he is calling you out from several counties away.”
“Not his style,” Harry answered, reaching for the letter. “He prefers to see his victims tremble in terror. That cannot be accomplished through the post.”
It was, indeed, franked by Adam, but, if Harry didn’t miss his mark, the handwriting was feminine, though he knew it was not Athena’s. Persephone, perhaps? That was odd. Harry hadn’t ever received a letter from her.
