Grace whinnied beneath me, shaking her head and readjusting the bit in her mouth.
David continued, “You and I need only be friends. I am not looking for”—he hesitated—“romance. But I can promise security. For you and your sister.”
I swallowed when he finished, nodding my head. “I understand. And I think that is all very reasonable.”
David looked to me, a curiousness in his hazel eyes that reminded me of Peter.
How I would miss Peter’s playfulness.
“And you? Surely you think of more than just my money.”
I forced a laugh. “No, actually I am quite set on your money.” I remembered how I’d refused Peter’s offerings at every turn, how I’d wanted nothing from him, yet here I was asking for so much from a stranger. “But more so for my sister than for myself. You see, Clara is here for Sir Ronald. If he does not return her affection, we must keep from his family until she is recovered. And I want her to have another Season, if necessary, and every opportunity for a happy match.
“If they do wed, they may need support, and I want to be in a position to offer it. I do not need love as she does. But I cannot bear her unhappiness.”
David nodded, completely unaffected by my forwardness. “That is fair. And an easy price to pay for my family’s needs.”
My family. He said the phrase as though they would always be separate from me. Separate from us. Clara and I against the world, as usual.
“I would need it written into our contract,” I said with as much pride as I could muster. “An unbreakable arrangement, unable to be abandoned.”
“My word is as good a deed.”
“I’m afraid I will not relent on the matter.” I pulled back on Grace’s leads, halting her.
“Why?” The creases of David’s eyes wrinkled, scrutinizing my stance.
“Because I am tired of living without certainty. I will not endure it again.”
He hesitated, then agreed with a firm nod of his head. “I am sure it can be done.”
We returned to the house without another word, both lost within our thoughts. Was this how my mother felt before marrying my father? Had she been this scared? If only Lord Gray had saved her then. Perhaps, as he’d said, we’d all have been better for it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Not now,” Clara said when I entered our bedchamber. “I do not want your secrets to ruin my dinner. But afterward, when he is gone, you owe me an explanation.”
I nodded. She looked exactly like my mother had when she was cross. Clara did not speak a word to me as Mary finished fastening her dress, and I could not blame her. We did not keep secrets from one another, and I would be just as angry, just as hurt, if our roles were reversed.
Clara’s shiny blue dress shuffled as she descended the stairs. I wore yellow, with my hair pinned high atop my head. We were the last to arrive in the drawing room, and Clara left my side without a backward glance.
David met me at the door, but my eyes found Peter standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes shooting daggers, just behind him.
“Good evening, Miss Moore.” David bowed, then took my arm, barely giving my appearance note.
“Mr. Pendleton.”
He led me into the dining room, seating me beside Sir Ronald, across from Georgiana. Peter sat next to his sister, sawing the food on his plate with precise force.
Instead of the usual casual evening, an air of formality overtook the drawing room after dinner. The gentlemen took longer with their port and did not settle in as quickly with cards or other games. It felt like an evening during the Season, where the ladies held their tongues and batted their lashes while the gentleman discussed important topics.
When the hour struck nine, David stood. “Thank you for this afternoon, Demsworth, Aunt Violet. I should be on my way. I have business to attend to in the morning.”
“Of course,” Lady Demsworth said, casting me a worried glance. “We’ve quite enjoyed your visit.”
David turned to me. “Miss Moore, might I have a private audience with you on my way out?”
I felt the weight of every eye staring at me as I nodded slowly, taking David’s arm. Peter stood, but Georgiana grabbed his arm, pulling him back down beside her.
“Good night to you all,” David said, his voice distantly ringing in my ears.
In the entryway, Mr. Gregory handed him his coat and top hat, opening the door for us. Our feet crunched upon gravel as we walked toward David’s coach, arm in arm in the cool evening air.
“I do not want your answer right away,” David said when we reached the door, his face darkened by night. “But I would be most pleased to ask for your hand. I am happy to fulfill all your requests, and I think in time we shall become good friends.”
Not knowing how to respond, I cleared my throat awkwardly, swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth.
David continued, “Take a few days, be sure this is what you want, and what you need, then send me word. You and your sister are welcome to join me at any time. My younger brother and his wife have offered their home nearby should you need a place to stay.” David took my hand, hesitating for a moment before kissing my knuckles. His gentle touch felt odd after hearing him so fervently declare that ours would be a friendly companionship, nothing more. Could such a thing be? Would it always feel so awkward, so forced between us?
“Thank you, David,” I said evenly. My hand had never been kissed before, even gloved as it was now, but still I felt nothing. Nothing at all.
I snuck past the drawing room, back up the stairs to my bedchamber. It took me half an hour to wiggle free from my dress alone, but I did not want to speak to a soul, not even Mary. I feared I would either cry or scream for the raging of emotions I felt within me. Some from frustration at having such a terrible fate in life, and others at being unable to choose what I wanted. Did I even have a choice to begin with? No one else had asked for my hand.
I’d just climbed onto the wide window seat when Clara opened the door.
“There you are,” she said, breathless. “Why did you not come back? Everyone was waiting for you. Have you accepted him, then?”
Was it the shadows from outside that darkened Clara’s amber eyes? Or just my imagination?
“He offered, but I have yet to answer,” I said, turning to gaze at the moon high in the night sky.
“You’re sacrificing for me, and I will not have it.”
“I do not have a choice, Clara. I am doing this for us.”
“For us?” She stood above me. “No, thank you. I will not be responsible for your poor decision. Our happiness does not rely on money alone. I refuse to believe that.”