Esme's heart thudded."Has he said as much?"
"He has expressed interest," Harrison said carefully."He is cautious by nature.He wishes to be certain your...inclinations have steadied."
"You mean he wishes to be certain I will not drag him into a pond," Esme said.
"Esme," Mother admonished.
She bit the inside of her cheek.
There it was.The neat, sensible future, laid out like one of Harrison's ledgers.A husband who would speak to her of ink and drainage.Breakfast conversations about columns and crop rotation.Dinners where any remark sharper than agreement would be smoothed away as unbecoming.
Safety, perhaps.Respectability, certainly.And a lifetime of never feeling her pulse quicken because someone had made her laugh when she wanted to scream.
"Haverleigh will be a perfect opportunity to demonstrate your composure," Mother continued."No more tumbles.No more...societies."
Esme's eyes flicked to Genny, whose expression was mutinous.
"Yes, Mama," Esme said quietly."I understand."
Mother relaxed."Good.That is all we ask."
As if it were a small thing.
Harrison cleared his throat."You will avoid Redford, if he attends."
Esme's shoulders went rigid."I will be civil to any gentleman with whom I am acquainted," she said."Nothing more."
"That is all I ask," Harrison echoed."He took my warning, Esme.He has stepped back.Let matters remain so."
The words stung.She forced herself to nod.
"Very well," she said."If you will excuse me, I have a headache."
Mother's eyes narrowed, but after a moment, she inclined her head."Do not be long, dearest.Mrs.Welby is expected shortly to discuss your gown for Haverleigh."
Nothing in her life, Esme thought, could be allowed to go unarranged.Even her sleeves required supervision.
She slipped from the drawing room, Genny shadowing her.
They did not speak until the door to Esme's bedchamber closed.
Then Genny exploded.
"'Let matters remain so'," she mimicked in a low, furious voice."'He has stepped back.'As though you were both pieces of furniture properly arranged in a room.I could scream."
"Please do not," Esme said, sinking onto the edge of the bed."Mama will assume I am rehearsing for the musicale."
Genny flung herself into the nearest chair."I liked the Mutual Mischief Society better," she declared."At least then our schemes made people happy.Miss Eaton is practically glowing.Mr.Carstairs smiled today.Smiled.At the weather."
Esme couldn't help it.Her mouth twitched."I suppose it was rather gratifying."
"It was glorious," Genny said."And you have gone all pale and quiet and respectable.It is awful.I hate it.I am considering staging an intervention."
"Do not," Esme said, though the plea lacked heat."This is what everyone wanted.I am being sensible."
Genny snorted."Yes.You and Woodmere and Watford and half the ton, all joined hands in a circle of dreary satisfaction.How delightful."
Esme stared at her clasped hands."It is not only them."
