“Of course. I am not as foolish as I often act.”
His words hinted at an apology, Mary thought, and she glanced up at him. He was looking straight ahead, and she studied his profile, taking in the curve of jaw and cheek, the straight line of his nose, the sweep of his lashes. She was aware of a strong desire to draw her forefinger down that profile, skimming his forehead and nose down to his lips.#p#分页标题#e#
Mary pulled her eyes away. They strolled on, silence stretching between them. Mary commented on the pleasant weather they had had today, and Royce agreed. Royce then remarked how nice it was to have Charlotte playing for them instead of Miss Dalrymple, and Mary nodded.
Finally, when Mary was beginning to wonder if their entire promenade would be spent on platitudes, Royce said abruptly, “I have no wish to be at odds with you.”
“Nor I with you.”
“I miss our conversations.”
“I do as well.” Mary glanced at him again. This time he turned and looked down at her, a smile curving his lips. Her heart seemed to roll in her chest.
“I hope you will forgive the way I have acted the past few days. I do not take disappointment well, I am afraid.”
“Mmm.” Mary made a noncommittal noise, trying not to smile.
“But I see now that I have been trying to bully you into marrying me, and that is hardly what I want. I cannot make you agree to become my wife. And I do not wish to drive you away by trying to do so.”
“I-I am glad.” Mary was aware of something oddly like disappointment at the thought that Royce was abandoning his pursuit of her. She was glad, of course. She did not want to be angry at him or constantly at odds. But she could not deny a pang of regret. However little she liked his idea of an arranged marriage, she could not help but wonder what it might have been like to be his wife.
She cleared her throat. “I would like for us to be … friends.”
“I am determined that we should be so.”
“Well, then … it is good that we have had this little talk.” Mary glanced around. They had circumnavigated half the room and were now drawing near the sofa where Lily sat. As they turned in her direction, Mary said, “You will doubtless be glad in later years that you made this decision.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Mary gave him a tight smile. “You will count it your good fortune that you did not marry me.”
“I never said I wasn’t going to marry you.”
“What?” Mary’s eyes widened as she stared at him. “But you just told me—”
“I said that I was not going to bully you into marrying me. I didn’t say that I had any intention of giving up on your becoming my wife.” Royce stopped in front of the sofa where Lily sat. He turned to Mary.
“But how—I mean—”
He let out a little chuckle and leaned in closer. His breath tickled her ear, sending a shiver through her, as he whispered, “My dear girl, there are other methods of persuasion.”
Mary simply stared at Royce as, with a bow, he picked up her hand, pressed his lips softly to the back of it, and, with a last, glittering look, walked away.
Mary’s sisters went riding the next afternoon, but Mary did not go with them. She told herself that she stayed at home because she did not wish to be around Royce. However, deep down, she knew that there was another reason. She had been unable to get the packet of letters she’d found in the attic out of her mind, and lying awake last night, considering Royce and what he had said, she could not help but think that if only she could look at those letters, she would have a better idea of what Royce and Sabrina had meant to one another. Had it merely been the youthful first love that Royce indicated it was, something he had recovered from long ago? Or was it the love of a lifetime, as Sabrina had hinted and Mary suspected to be true?
As soon as she heard her sisters head downstairs, Mary sprang to her feet and slipped out into the hallway. Glancing up and down to make certain no one was about, she walked quickly along the corridor and up the back staircase, making her way to the attic door. It did not take her long to locate the trunk, and she hovered over it for a minute, torn. But as much as she told herself that looking at Royce’s letters was wrong, she knew that she had not come up to the attic simply to turn around and go back down. Finally, with a sigh, she opened the chest.#p#分页标题#e#
There was the bundle of letters, lying on top. Mary picked it up and untied the ribbon, then sat down on the floor, careless of the dust on her skirts, and laid the letters in her lap. Setting her candle on the flat lid of the trunk beside her, she picked up the top letter with fingers that trembled slightly and opened it.