His expression closed. "And?"
"And I refuse you."
The words settled between them.
"You refuse me," he said.
"Yes."
"And what has passed between us makes no difference to you."
"It makes a great deal of difference," she said, before she could stop herself. Then, more controlled, "It convinces me that I was right."
He drew a breath, as though restraining something less measured.
"You think so little of me?"
"I think," she said, "that you have behaved in a manner that makes it impossible for me to think well of you in this respect. You speak of honour and consequence, and yet you come to me at this hour, and stand so, and act as though I must answer you because you feel strongly enough to insist upon it."
"I insist upon nothing," he said, though there was strain in it now. "I ask only that you acknowledge what is between us."
"What is between us," she said, "is a series of very improper moments which I regret and will not repeat."
He did not answer her at once. “Regret,” he repeated, spitting the word out.
For a moment she thought he might argue again, press her into reason as he had tried before. Instead, something in his expression settled, as though he had come to a point in his own mind.
His hands lifted and came to rest lightly at her upper arms.
There was nothing forceful in it. He did not draw her nearer. But he did not let her go either, and the steadiness of the contact was enough to undo the careful distance she had been holding between them.
"You would have me call it nothing," he said, more quietly now. "After all that has passed."
"I would have you behave as though it were," she answered.
He gave a faint breath that might almost have been a laugh, though there was no amusement in it.
"You do not make it easy."
"I am not trying to make it easy. I am trying to make it right."
His fingers shifted slightly against her sleeve, and he sighed deeply.
"And this is right," he said. "To refuse me. To put it aside, everything that is between us."
"Yes."
He did not release her.
"I think you are trying to be sensible and in doing so, you are missing out on something important.," he said, almost gently.
Her breath caught at that, and she was angry at herself for it.
"I do not require your interpretation of my own mind."
"No," he said. "You require me to accept it."
"Yes."
