“I am, miss.” He took a deep breath and waited for her answer.
She tugged the cover up, her blush intensifying. “I deeply thank you for your attention and I feel humbled and honoured by your proposal, but I must decline it.”
Blazes. It shouldn’t hurt so much, but the stab piercing his chest knocked the air out of his lungs. “May I ask why you declined my offer?” Even his voice sounded odd to his own ears.
“You want to marry me out of pity. I want to marry for affection,” she said, reclining on the pillows.
“Not pity,” he protested, squaring his shoulders. “Quite the opposite. I think you’re one of the strongest persons I’ve ever met. I do not pity you. I admire you.”
“It’s duty then. Your sense of responsibility. Guilt.” She shook her head. “I don’t wish you to be tied to me forever only because you think I’m your responsibility. Duty, pity, and responsibility aren’t good foundations for a long, happy marriage.”
“You’ll forgive my bluntness, Miss Madeline, but I’m the reason you’re currently lying on that chaise, weak and ill. I ruined your chances of being accepted into the academy. I owe you a life.”
“That’s what I mean.” She pointed a finger at him. “While I agree the incident had its sad consequences for me and that you caused it, I don’t want you to feel obliged to marry me. You took care of me in the past weeks without me being your wife.”
“But a marriage would protect you from further unpleasant situations. You’ll be free to pursue your passion.” He glanced at the armchair where Mrs. Debenham had sat. “I would always support your dream of being a painter.”
She let out a soft chuckle that turned into a cough. “Mr. Wentworth, you don’t have to bind yourself to me forever to protect me. I appreciate the thought, but I want to marry someone I love and who loves me, not someone who feels trapped by guilt for an unfortunate incident and tries to make himself feel better.”
His face heated with emotion. “I don’t wish to marry you to make myself feel better.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Be honest with me and yourself.”
He couldn’t speak because some of what she’d said was true. He did mean to marry her because he believed it was his duty as a gentleman and a decent human being. And yes, he wanted to get rid of his sense of guilt.
But in the past weeks, while they’d talked to each other and come to know each other better, he’d also discovered she was clever and sensible, strong and witty, pretty and delightful. He liked her. He liked her emerald eyes, pink lips, rare smiles, and the way she stood up for herself. Was it love? He hadn’t the foggiest. Not yet maybe? But weren’t some marriages based on less than mutual respect? She was a banker’s daughter. Her father was also a gentleman. He wasn’t titled, but was a gentleman too. They were well-matched and equal. Maybe she didn’t like him at all. If that was the case, there was no hope for him.
“Please, Mr. Wentworth.” She coughed in her handkerchief. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate you. But a marriage would be a mistake for both of us. This is my choice.”
“And I will respect it.” He bowed and took his hat, hoping to hide his disappointment. “I understand, miss. I won’t importune you further, but I hope you’ll allow me to visit you in the future. Please.”
She flushed again. “By all means, yes. I…” She waved around. “I love the flowers.”
Ouch. Another stab to his chest, but he took it like a gentleman.
“And your company,” she hurried to say, but he recognised a hasty attempt to repair the damage when he was at the receiving end of it. “Please come back.”
“Thank you.”
“Besides,” she said in a high-pitched tone, “aren’t you about to leave for South America?”
He frowned. “No. I haven’t agreed to join the expedition. I wasn’t planning to. May I ask you how you know about it?”
“His Grace came here the other day to inquire about my health, and while we were chatting, he told me the Royal Botanical Society insisted that you go. You were right about how precious the plant was. You’ve realised your dream.”
Was she trying to get rid of him for good? Was he being too obnoxious and suffocating? Bugger, he had no idea. “I’m not sure I should go.”
“But it’s your dream. Why wouldn’t you go? Oh, Mr. Wentworth.” She huffed and coughed. “Don’t tell me you want to stay here for me because you feel guilty.”
“Iamguilty. I don’t deserve the opportunity to realise my dream while I destroyed yours.”
Her lips pressed tightly in a fashion reminiscent of her mother. “At least one of us will be happy and fulfil their dreams.”
“Miss Madeline—”
“Mr. Wentworth, honestly.” She exhaled. “Your consideration is admirable, but I don’t want you to become a martyr out of guilt for my sake. You made a mistake. Yes, my opportunity to impress Mrs. Blanchet is gone, but thank heavens I’m alive, and with a bit of luck and your family’s help, I’ll paint again and have my fellowship. I haven’t abandoned my dream. I have never asked you to sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t want you to.”
“I don’t want to go. You haven’t improved and I don’t think I should leave London whilst you aren’t fully recovered.”
