Page 73 of Shining Knight
Her aunt sighed heavily. “Come along, then.” She took Eugenia’s arm and began to promenade. “Farnsworth and I wished to inform you of our betrothal before you heard it elsewhere.”
“That was not necessary, but may I be the first to offer you my most sincere congratulations. I think it is the right decision.”
Farnsworth beamed down at her aunt. “I gave her up once, I could not bear to do so again. Thank you for helping me to realize it, my lady.”
Eugenia dipped a small curtsy.
“We intend to be married during the Christmas season, at my country estate. You are, of course welcome to attend.”
“Thank you. I am not certain what our plans are, but I assure you I wish you every happiness.”
They circled back to the carriage and her aunt and the duke took their leave, looking like two youngsters in the throes of their first calf-love. Graham chuckled. “Shall we go and find you another bonnet?”
She shook her head with a half-hearted smile.” I do not need any more bonnets,” she answered.
“The situation is dire indeed if the lady refuses a new bonnet,” he teased.
He caught her watching someone across the square. Kitty Ravenhill was promenading on the arm of old Lord Summerton.
“Well,” she said, “it seems as though everyone is finding their matches.”
He handed her up into the carriage. “Do not despair, pet.”
“How can I not?”
“You may console yourself that you do not find yourself wed to old Lord Summerton.”
Graham suspected he could profess his dying love, spout a great deal of nonsense to her, but it would be a lie and she would certainly not thank him in the long run. He had been infatuated and mistaken it for love before, and it was the most uncomfortable he had ever been in his life. But how could he make her understand that that was not a desirable way to begin a marriage? How could he persuade her that only heartache and disappointment lay in that direction?
“You have me,” he answered instead.
“I do not know how to make you understand.” She threw up her hands in a typically Eugenia display of frustration.
“Nor I, you. Perhaps we have been together too much. I can only hope, after some time apart, you will see I am right.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” she asked doubtfully.
“Why not? I certainly missed you when we were at odds for two days. I cannot see why it would be different for longer.”
“Because, at length, you grow accustomed to it. The beginning is the hardest,” she explained.
“And how long shall this self-imposed break from each other be?”
“I do not know,” she whispered.
“So I am to devote myself to the estate and await your leisure—await my fate? My father will be beside himself with joy.”
She reached over and took his hand. “I am sorry, but so much has happened that I am confused. I do not trust my judgment, and I must ensure that this will be best for both of us.”
“Should this not be a mutual decision?” He could not mask the irritation in his voice. He wanted to shake her.
“I am pleased you feel you know your own mind, but I do not know mine.”
“As you wish. We will no longer be under the scrutiny of Society, so you may have your distance.”
“Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. It took a great deal of effort not to pull her into his arms and show her what she was missing. He could only trust that the truth would out in the end when her every movement was not being judged and her character tried in the broadsheets.
