“Are you sure?” she asked. “Do you want to do this?”
“Do you?” he asked.
She laughed rather shakily. “I asked first,” she said.
“Con,” he said, “has anyone else spoken to you this afternoon or evening? Jon?”
“Jonathan?” she said, frowning. “Of course he has spoken to me. He said happy birthday to me for the fourth or fifth time when we arrived this afternoon, and ...”
“No,” he said. “It does not matter. Well, I think I’ll just pop down on one knee, Con. It will be something to tell our grandchildren.”
She turned away sharply suddenly and found herself biting her lip until she tasted blood. “Sidney,” she said, and she could hear that her voice was almost a wail.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I love you so dearly,” she said. “I could not love you more if you were my brother. I—. Oh, Sidney.”
“Oh, Lord, Con,” he said, and there were the beginnings of relief in his voice. “You too? I am fonder of you than I have been of anyone in my life. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“And I promised,” he said. “I would not hurt you or let you down for the world, Con.”
“Or I you,” she said.
There was a silence. “Oh, Lord,” he said at last, “what are we saying here, Con? Are we saying the same thing?”
She turned to look at him. “I think so,” she said. “You would not be dreadfully hurt, Sidney, if I did not marry you? It does not mean that I do not love you. I will always love you. You will always be my dear friend.”
“And you will not be heartbroken if I do not marry you?” he asked. “Truth to tell, Con, I think I am too young to marry anyone at the moment.”
She laughed shakily and then sobbed inelegantly. “Oh, Sidney,” she said, “may I use your shoulder? Please?”
“Come here, you goose,” he said, and he hugged her tightly to him while she laughed and hiccuped and hugged him back. “What idiots we have been. Are we friends again?”
“I don’t think we were ever not friends, were we?” she said. “You did not intend to come home at all, did you?”
“But I came,” he said. “I came because I care for you and could not just abandon you. There. Don’t go getting your eyes all red, and they do get dreadfully red when you cry. You can feel free to love someone else now, Con, now that you no longer feel bound to me. There is someone else, isn’t there?”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. “What a ridiculous idea,” she said. “What on earth makes you think such a foolish thing?”
“A little bit of listening and a little bit of observing,” he said. “We had better get back to the drawing room, Con, before your papa thinks we have been away too long and forces us to the altar.” He drew her arm through his and patted her hand. “And if you should feel like making an announcement tonight—but not quite the one you and I planned—then go ahead and don’t worry about my feelings. I will be happy for you, I swear.”
“Oh, Sidney,” she said a little crossly, “what nonsense are you talking now?”
It was a waltz. She had known that he would ask for a waltz. She smiled at him and felt a great welling of relief again. And of happiness. And there was a little sadness in her too.
“Well,” he said, “you are looking very happy, Constance. Has it been as enjoyable a birthday party as you hoped for?”
“Yes,” she said. “It has been wonderful. And Esdale has been that extra-special ingredient. Thank you for offering it.”
He twirled her about a corner of the room. “I could not help but notice you and Sid and your father disappearing,” he said, “and your father reappearing a short while later. Share the secret with me, Constance. When is the announcement to be made?”
She looked up into his eyes. They smiled back at her and were entirely kindly. There was nothing else in them at all. She shook her head and fixed her eyes on his cravat.
“Ah,” he said, “I am sorry. I should not have begged a brother’s privilege. I must agree to be kept waiting along with everyone else.”
“There will be no announcement,” she told his cravat so quietly that he had to bend his head forward to hear her. “There is no betrothal.”
