“It matters greatly to me.”
A weighty silence descended between them. “I daresay that you are overthinking this,” Mr. Drew finally responded. “Men of his station do not go around blurting out marriage proposals.”
“I suppose not.”
“But…” His voice trailed off. “Oh, never mind.”
She leaned forward. “What did you intend to say?”
He sighed heavily. “If I had succeeded in marrying you, would you have ever forgiven me for forcing you into it?”
“I do not believe so.”
Mr. Drew gave her a look that could only be construed as pity. “I’m sorry to say it, but that is your answer.” He walked to the door and stopped, putting on his hat. “I do hope our paths will cross again under much different circumstances.”
“As do I.”
Mr. Drew offered her a brief smile. “‘Til we meet again,” he replied before tipping his hat and disappearing from the room.
Henrietta stared at the empty doorway as she pondered what Mr. Drew had said. Was she trapping Charles into marriage? And if so, would he ever forgive her, or would they be destined to have a miserable existence with one another?
As panic swelled up inside of her, Marjorie glided into the room. “Whatever is wrong?” she asked, a puzzled look on her face.
Henrietta gave up on her needlework and set it on the settee. “Do you think I’m making a mistake in marrying Lord Charles?”
“I do not.”
“Then why does it feel as if I am?”
Her sister sat across from her. “You are marrying the brother of the Marquess of Bideford,” she said. “Why would you be making a mistake?”
“I can’t help but wonder if he was only doing the honorable thing by asking me to marry him.”
“Then so be it,” Marjorie replied with a flick of her wrist. “Now, can we discuss my problem?”
“Which is?”
Marjorie let out a long sigh. “I am conflicted about Lord Featherstone and Lord Brixton.”
“What is the issue?”
“I have feelings for Lord Brixton, but Lord Featherstone is an earl.”
Henrietta gave her sister an exasperated look. “Lord Featherstone is dreadfully dull, and he is a known rake,” she said.
“So I hear,” Marjorie muttered.
“Besides, Lord Brixton is a viscount,” Henrietta reminded her. “That does count for something.”
Marjorie nodded. “Lord Brixton is everything that I envisioned in a husband,” she said. “He is kind, considerate, and honorable. But…” Her voice trailed off.
“But, what?”
“Lord Featherstone is an earl.”
Henrietta groaned. “You are hopeless!”
“I won’t dispute that,” Marjorie said, leaning her head back against the settee. “What do you think I should do?”
