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Chapter Twelve
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Rosalie simultaneously straggled with the window of the private salon and fanned herself, her cheeks flushed with agitation. "Lord, it's so closed and dark everywhere at Brighton—why doesn't anyone like to let sunlight in here?"
"Fades the furniture." Mira sat down in a chair, inhaling gratefully as a cool, merciful breeze swept through the room.
"Mireille, you look so white—"
"I feel ill."
"You should feel relieved and very proud of yourself—"
"Proud?" Mira's voice cracked with a combination of laughter and despair. She lifted a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in a helpless gesture. "I'm burning with misery. I know I did the right thing… I used my head, I made a sensible decision… but my heart keeps saying 'Look at who you are—how can you refuse such an offer? You should thank God for his mercy, and then accept Lord Falkner's proposal immediately.' But I know I'm not good enough for him, and when he comes to realize that as well, he'll—"
"Mireille, stop it." Rosalie paused in her vigorous fanning and nearly glared at her. "Of course you're good enough for him. That's not the issue at all. You were right to refuse him because of the kind of man he is. There is something every marriage must have, and it is more essential than love or passion. Respect. It ismore important than anything else, and he's not capable of respecting any woman."
"I don't think you're right about him," Mira blurted out in confusion. "He would never harm anyone who couldn't defend himself… he's really very gentle and kind… he is hotheaded but not cruel. And he respects anyone who isn't afraid to stand up to him. I…" Her voice faltered and she said more softly, "Deep inside I know he's worthy of trust, even though I'm afraid to give it to him."
"Are we speaking of Lord Falkner?" Rosalie demanded. "Mireille, you barely know anything about him! Gentle? Trustworthy? Everything I have heard about him is to the contrary. Do you know how heartless he can be, have you heard anything about how callous he is? The Falkners are much feared and respected, but each and every one of them is abominably arrogant, self-inflated, uncaring, and Alec Falkner is the worst—"
"Whatever else he is, he is not heartless." Mira rubbed her forehead absently. "I am beginning to think that he is often misunderstood." "Misunderstood! Mireille, listen to yourself!" "You think I have no rational perspective on the situation. But I do."
"If all that I have heard about him has been wrong, if all of London and I have misunderstood him, and you really think that he could be a good husband, then why did you refuse him?"
"I told you before. He… he does not want to love someone who is not perfect… and I am certainly far from perfect. And furthermore, I don't want to be the wife of a man in his position. It's not something that I am suited for."
"Mireille, it wasn't easy for me," Rosalie said rapidly, in a different voice than before. "I was not prepared in any way to be the wife of an earl, much less the wife of a Berkeley! It is wonderful in some ways,and dreadful in others, but I would endure twice as much in order to be married to Rand."
"Sang de Dieu, I shouldn't have refused Lord Falkner." Mira drew her knees up on the chair and buried her head in her arms, unmindful of the position's lack of dignity. "I should have said yes, but all I could think of were all the reasons why I shouldn't. Maybe I should have accepted him. Maybe I should have said yes and ignored everything else. I wish someone else could make the decision for me."
"You'll forget about him soon enough. There are so many other men who will want you—"
"No, no other men. I couldn't. Another man even touching me… I won't even think about it." Mira looked up with eyes as dark as a midnight sky, the pupils dilated. She was beyond tears. "Without him, I will be alone," she whispered. "Even if I became another man's wife, even if I had children and a family… I would still be alone. He is the only escape from it."
Startled, Rosalie stared at her and shook her head, her mouth falling open. "How on earth can you feel this way about him? You hardly know him!"
"I do know him. He is the one who…"
Even though Mira did not finish the sentence, Rosalie understood what she had started to say, and she was stunned. "Mireille… what an idiot I've been. I didn't understand how this could have happened so quickly. As far as I knew, the only time you had seen Lord Falkner was at Sackville's hunt and the night we met with Brummell… but that's wrong, isn't it? You've seen him many more times than that… you must have… oh, how mutton-headed I've been! It was never Sackville. Lord Falkner was the one you loved in Hampshire, wasn't he?"