As Mary danced and talked, now and then she glanced around, unable to keep from looking for Royce. Once she saw him dancing with Cousin Charlotte, and another time chatting with an older gentleman she did not know. When next she looked over, she saw him taking the floor with Lady Sabrina.
Mary went still, her insides suddenly chilled. It was a waltz, and she watched, unable to look away, as Royce and Sabrina began to move about the floor. Maddeningly, she could catch only glimpses of their faces. She could not read his expression, but whenever Sabrina’s face came into view, she was smiling, her perfect features animated, her blue eyes sparkling. Sabrina was still in love with Royce, Mary realized, and her heart squeezed painfully in her chest.
Mary’s fragile hopes earlier this evening seemed quite foolish now. How could she ever hope to compete with this woman? She was Royce’s first love, the woman who had turned his heart to stone. All that Mary could ever hope to have was the remainder of the man. Was that enough?
The dance ended, and Mary turned hastily away, not wanting Royce to know that she had been watching him. Fiddling with her fan and straightening her skirt, she did not realize that Royce was walking toward her until he was upon her.
“Oh!” She jumped, startled, when he stopped before her.
“I believe I have this dance.” He was not smiling; indeed, his face was sober, almost grim.
“Yes, of course.” Mary placed her hand on his arm, wishing she did not have to go out onto the dance floor with him just now. At least it was not a waltz; she would not have to try to keep up a conversation.
To her surprise, however, Royce steered her away from the dance floor. She glanced at him questioningly.
“I have something I want to talk to you about.” He guided her through the double doors and into a corridor, then turned and walked to the door at the end of the short hall.
“About what? Have you heard something about the man behind the abduction attempts?”
“What? No. This is something else altogether. It’s the reason I went to Iverley.”
“Oh?” Mary’s curiosity was aroused.
They walked out onto a covered veranda that wrapped around the side and back of Halstead House. He found a dark, secluded corner with a wrought-iron bench and gestured Mary toward the seat.
“Here. Please sit down.”
“All right.” Mary sat down and looked up at him. He was acting rather peculiarly, stiff and at the same time nervous. She remembered, with a sudden sinking feeling, another time when she had seen him behave this way—the afternoon that he had proposed to her. She started to stand up. “Royce—”
“No.” He took her arm and tugged her back down onto the seat. “Please listen to me. I want to do this right this time. The reason I went home was to get something.” He went down on one knee on the flagstone before Mary, startling her. “Marigold Bascombe, I am asking you to become my wife.”#p#分页标题#e#
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. Opening it, he held it out to Mary. There, nestled in the satin, lay a deep red ruby ring. Mary took it, holding it up close to look into its red depths.
“It’s the Winslow ring, given to all the Winslow brides since 1678. My father gave it to my mother, and now I want to give it to you.”
“Why?” Mary asked, watching him.
He sighed. “Mary … every time I tell you the reasons, you get angry. I am trying to do it the right way, to show you—”
“And you think what I want is a ring?” Mary asked, her voice rising.
“No. I mean, well, I don’t know whether you want the ring or not.” He sounded weary and confused. “But I thought you would understand that I am serious, that I truly want to marry you.”
“I understand that. But it is obvious that you don’t understand.” Mary stood up.
“No.” He rose lithely, temper flaring in his eyes. “You’re right. I don’t understand. When we talk, when we joke, when we do anything, it seems good and right. And when we’re in bed together—well, I haven’t any words for it. But when I ask you to marry me, you refuse out of hand. I thought it was the way I did it the first time. I was clumsy and stupid and not at all myself. I thought if I went and got the ring, if I gave you the Winslow ring, then I could do it correctly, say the thing that would make you
accept.”
“I can’t!” Tears clogged Mary’s voice. “Don’t you see? I feel all those things and more. I love you. I can’t marry you because I love you, and I can’t spend the rest of my life like that, with my heart breaking every day because you don’t love me!”