Page 145 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I turn to Connie. “He won't, so stop talking about it!”
“Why you getting angry?” He smiles.
“I’m not.”
“You are getting a bit touchy,” Spencer nods.
“Oh, shut up,” roll my eyes. “Why did we stop talking about you two fucking?”
They both go quiet. Spencer grabs her book and walks inside.
Connie nudges me. “Little Miss Clever Clogs over here.”
“Fuck off.”
“You made her upset.”
“Yes,” I grit my teeth. “I know that—but she made me upset first.”
“We were only talking about Digby proposing.”
“Excatly!”
“Would you not want him to?” He asks then, his voice lower, more serious.
“I don’t—” shake my head. “I don’t know.”
“You know, Phoebs,” he sits up. “I think he might.”
I whip my head around to face him. “Why do you say that?” I demand.
He shrugs. “There’s been signs.”
I laugh. “Like what?”
“Today,” he nods to make a point. “Spent the whole day with you, didn’t he? Acting proper sweet, real nice all of a sudden. Asked you the other day if you liked your nails—I mean, what lad do you know cares about nails unless they’re thinking about rings?”
I swallow. My stomach dips and suddenly it’s too hot out here even though the sun is setting.
“It’s alright if you say no. He’s the one that will look like a knob, not you,” he tells me.
I shake my head, can’t stop shaking all over. I feel really out of control now because what if it’s true? What if Digby does want to propose? I can’t say no. You can’t turn down an engagement—what will people think about me then?
Fuck, I feel really sick.
“You’re fine,” Connie rubs my back.
I didn’t realise I had said that out loud.
“It’s not that,” I mutter. “It’s—um, fuck—it’s not that.”
“What is it, then?” He frowns, titling his face to get a look at me.
“I don’t want that—I don’t want him.” I can’t even find the courage to look him in the face. My eyes are glued to the floor.
“What do you want?”
And he asks with so much sincerity and concern that I pull my eyes away from the ground and look at him.
