Page 22 of Mistletoe and Kisses
She nodded with some relief when his stiff shoulders slouched. Her words had reached him.
He walked back to her. “I’m sorry. I lay awake all night trying to resolve a problem. I’m still not sure if I have found the right solution.”
“Try me. You know I am always someone you can turn to for advice,” she replied.
A brittle hint of his usual self appeared on his face. “Yes, you are. That is another of your many wonderful traits, Mary. Though I am not so certain that you are the right person in whom I should confide, seeing as the problem concerns you.”
She should have seen it coming. Hugh had held off on doing anything about the issue of the university and her living arrangements. But now, it appeared after speaking with his brother, he had come to the conclusion that there was little, if anything, he could do about it.
“You don’t need to go into battle for me with the head of St John’s College. You have your new appointment at St Martin-in-the-Fields to worry about. Just let things stay as they are,” she replied.
He huffed in clear annoyance at her reply. “That matter is not yet settled, but it is not what vexes me this morning.”
She waited. If there was one thing, she had in abundance from dealing with students all her life, it was patience. Bitterly cold, evil wind and all, she could stand on the side of a mountain and wait him out.
His gaze drifted from her to a nearby barn. He pointed toward it. “Let’s at least get out of the wind so we can talk.”
When the barn door closed behind them, Mary put a hand to her ears. Her winter bonnet had kept most of her head warm, but her poor ears were stinging. “Remind me to never complain about an English winter ever again. How do you people survive?”
“Actually, it is barely winter yet. Come January, the mountain will be lost under a thick layer of snow, and even the road into the village will become impassable at times,” Hugh replied.
Mary found herself a nice pile of warm, dry straw on which to sit and plopped down on it. Hugh remained standing. After pulling off one of his gloves, he rubbed it over his face.
A chill of worry settled in her stomach. It was unusual to see Hugh in such a troubled state.
She patted the straw next to her. “Come and sit down. Tell me your troubles.”
With an uncertain huff, he wandered over and dropped down beside her. “Alright. Here goes nothing.”
He fell silent for a time. As the seconds stretched into minutes, Mary began to wonder if he had changed his mind about confiding in her. He startled her when he finally spoke again.
“You and I are friends, are we not?” he ventured.
“Yes. I hope so,” she replied.
He was laying the ground for whatever difficult conversation lay ahead. Mary picked up a piece of straw and began to nervously wrap it around her finger.
“Well, I don’t want us to be friends. I mean, not just friends.”
“What do you mean?”
He moved to face her, taking her hand in his. “I want you to consider becoming my wife.”
Under most any other circumstance she would have rejoiced at his words, but only disappointment stirred within. Hugh had obviously thought long and hard about her perilous situation and decided that the obvious solution was to offer her marriage.
In his world, it no doubt made perfect sense. They were already friends, and with his family’s wealth at his disposal, he could offer her a life of security and comfort. Problem solved.
She would be mad not to seriously consider the offer, yet her heart demanded more.
“I see,” she replied.
If she married Hugh, she would have a home, and likely a family in the years to come. She would no longer be alone in the world.
But she would be alone in her love for him.
“Will you at least consider it?” he said.
She shivered, the barn no longer holding the warmth it once had. Hugh’s marriage proposal, if it could be considered as one, was as cold as the chill winds on the mountain.
