There was a short silence. “I’ll kill him,” he said, and she could tell even without looking up that he spoke through his teeth.
“It was mutual,” she said hastily. “We were both agreed. We love each other and always will. But it is not that kind of love.”
Another silence. “He has not hurt you, then?” he asked.
“No.” She could feel her heart thumping. She could feel his hand warm against the back of her waist. She could smell his cologne. The whole world contracted and encompassed just the two of them. And then breathing became a conscious thing and a difficult thing. She looked up at him, unsmiling, and her eyes held on his.
“I think we had better find somewhere more private, hadn’t we?” he said when they had stared at each other for what might have been minutes or merely seconds.
“Yes,” she said.
The library was lit by a single branch of candles and looked far cozier and more intimate than it had looked that morning.
He took his hand from the small of her back when, he had closed the door behind them, and cupped her face in his palms. His thumbs drew circles on her cheeks.
“Did you know that I spoke to your mother and father this morning before coming to see you?” he asked.
“No.” Her voice was a whisper, her eyes wide.
“I asked if I might offer you marriage,” he said.
She swallowed awkwardly.
“They both said yes.” He smiled suddenly. “Your father must have wondered whether he was on his head or his feet when Sid spoke to him on the same subject a short while ago.”
Constance licked her lips and watched the smile fade from his face.
“You do not love Sid in that way, Constance?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She could seem to speak only in monosyllables.
He looked down at her mouth and back up into her eyes. “Could you ever love me in that way?” he asked.
“Yes.” No sound came out. “Yes.”
His thumbs touched her lips. “And I you,” he said. “I loved you four years ago when I frightened you with my clumsy advances, and I have loved you too much to come home ever since. I have loved you again this summer. I love you now. Have you known it?”
“You were being kind,” she said. “I thought you were being kind.”
“I do not kiss ladies I feel mere kindness toward,” he said.
“They were not clumsy,” she said. “I was just too young and—foolish. I worshiped you then. I don’t think it is worship now. I think it is love. I know it is love.”
He set his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Will you marry me?” he asked her. “I know I am eight-and-twenty years old and almost in my dotage. But perhaps a young thing like you can rejuvenate me, Constance. Will you?”
She laughed, though the sound was suspiciously like a giggle. “Yes,” she said, and suddenly she could not stop laughing. “What an absurd thing to say.” She slid her arms up beneath his and circled his neck with them. And she bit her lip and the laughter was gone.
“Mm,” he said, “I have won the treasure, after all. And it is far more precious than an embroidered watch case, is it not?”
But she could only look up at him with parted lips. His arms came about her waist and drew her tightly against him, and he rocked her wordlessly until he found her mouth with his own and worked it open and teased her lips with his tongue.
“All day,” he whispered to her, “I have been training myself to be a good and affectionate brother-in-law.”
“All summer,” she whispered back, “I have been training myself to be a good and affectionate sister-in-law.”
“Will Sid be hurt or embarrassed?” he asked. “Would it be kinder to wait with our announcement?”
“No,” she said. “He has given us his blessing. He knew, though he did not mention you by name. Oh, yes, he did too, though I did not understand at the time. He said he would be happy for me. For us.”
