“I want to say that I love you, too.”
He dipped his head, looking adorably flustered.
“I didn’t tell you before because I don’t think I realized it myself. Or I didn’t let myself name it. And that was because I was afraid. The bit where it came off as though I was toying with you—the doll business—” He started to object but she shushed him. “You were right about that. It was because I wanted you, but I was afraid. All the reasons I always gave for wanting to avoid marriage were true, but they weren’t . . . comprehensive. There was another one, a big one, one that had nothing to do with laws, or money, or the magazine. I was afraid that if I loved you, when you left to marry someone else—”
“Like Edith did,” Effie said quietly. “I understand.”
“But I have come to realize that you are not Edith. One of the great gifts you have always given me is your careful attention. You have always listened to me. I ought to have done the same for you, really listened to what you said.Believedyou when you said you weren’t fussed about the earldom, or the lineage.”
She took a breath. That hadn’t been nearly as difficult as she’d imagined. She felt lighter already, even without knowing how things were going to turn out. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I’m sorry I appeared fickle. Iwasn’tfickle, in my heart. I just wasn’t allowing myself to know my own heart. I hope it’s not too late. I had intended, today, to come to you and suggest that we begin an affair. A long-term, poorly hidden affair on terms we find mutually agreeable.”
She took another fortifying breath. “But in light of your changed affairs, and of your fine speech just now, I believe that, yes, I am proposing to you.” She paused. “Proposingmarriage, if that wasn’t clear.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. Fear began to assert itself, and Julianna made a gesture of impatience.
Effie smiled. “I am merely having trouble adjusting to such a declaration. You once said the ‘last thing you wanted’ was a man to propose to you.”
“If it helps, I said I didn’t want a man to propose to me.” She grinned. “I never said I didn’t want to propose to a man.”
“I ought to call that quibbling,” he said fondly.
“I was in jest, but I find that perhaps direction makes the difference. Of course,youmake the difference. That whole business about you being you, wonderful you. But also, direction seems to matter. How interesting.”
“Direction?”
“I am the proposer here. The question is flowing from me to you. I am doing the asking.”
“And I am doing the answering.”
“Yes. And soon, please? I am not sure I ever appreciated how difficult it is to make a suit of marriage.”
“Are you afraid I’ll say no?”
“Of course I am!”
“Oh, goodness, I was just teasing.”
“Does that mean...?”
“You do understand that regardless of who is doing the asking, if we were to marry, you would be marrying into a title. You would be a countess.”
“In name only, though, yes? Just as you plan to be an earl in name only?”
“You could be whatever kind of countess you like. But in the eyes of the law, you would still be one.”
“I would like to be the kind of countess who lives in a room in Grub Street and publishes a magazine with her husband who is also her assistant.”
He grinned. “I would like that, too. I would like that very much.”
Julianna tried to return his smile, but something still nagged at her.
“What are you brooding about?” he asked. “Oughtn’t this to be the part where the happy couple embrace and what have you?”
He was teasing, but the thing, the nagging thing, was coming into focus. They had discussed this briefly, in Brighton, in the context of needing to prevent conception, but this context—the context of marriage—was quite apart from that. “Some people . . .” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Some people, myself perhaps among them, would say that I am too old for you.”
“Too old! What does that mean? Is anyone too old for anything? If an old man desires to dance a quadrille, he need only find a willing partner.”
“And how does an old man at a ball find a willing partner?”
