“Very good footing, I think,” Cordelia said.
“Yes, very good footing indeed. And I have noticed things and learned things that I did not know before. I have come to see that I was very narrowminded in my thinking and, well, as Lady Hightower has pointed out, there are all sorts of intelligence.”
It was a sort of a jumble of thoughts and Cordelia was not certain what he meant. But she suddenly realized she must be honest with Lord Harveston. He must know what she really was and not be fooled by any tableau she’d attempted.
“Lord Harveston,” she said, “I have a confession to make. That paper on volcanoes I mentioned? I really do not remember much about it. I was far too busy thinking about the family who might live nearby. It is a habit of mine.”
There. She’d said it. If he wished to go forward, he now knew that she was not the intellectual that he was.
“Yes, I know!” he said. “That is precisely it. That is what I did not see before.”
“But what I am saying is,” Cordelia said slowly, “I am not now and probably will never be an intellectual.”
Suddenly, she heard Lord Harveston laughing. He said, “That is nonsense! You are an intellectual, and a far greater one than myself. I may be an intellectual of books, but you are an intellectual of hearts.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. And really, what are books to that?”
“I hadn’t thought…”
“And, you’ve touched my own heart. Deeply.” There was a pause, then he said, “It’s funny, I hadn’t really thought it could be touched.”
Cordelia clutched her robe tighter round herself. Say it, she thought. Say it, say it, say it.
“Now, I know you had hopes for a Corinthian sort of fellow—”
“No, I do not!” Cordelia shouted at the chimney.
“No?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Because I am not. You must know that upfront.”
“You carried me up the stairs, Harveston,” Cordelia said, “that is quite enough athletic prowess for me.”
“So do you say then…”
“I can say nothing until I’ve been asked something,” Cordelia said, hands on her cheeks.
He’s on the verge, the verge, the very verge.
“Lady Cordelia Bennington, I am hopelessly in love with you—a thing I never thought possible. I was right to think it, as it would not have been possible had there not been Cordelia Bennington in the world.”
He could not go back now. The verge had been reached.
“Lady Cordelia, would you consent to be my wife?”
It was said! He’d said it!
“Yes!” she shouted at the chimney.
“Yes, you do say yes?”
“Yes, I said yes.”
“I would have Popinjay run me down a hundred times over to hear such an answer.”
