Page 145 of A Modest Independence

“No. Something I’ve been carrying around with me for months. I bought it that evening in Calcutta when we went to the Chowringhee Road.”

Her hands trembled inexplicably as she opened the little box. What she saw inside made her tremble all the more.

It was a ring. A single rose-cut diamond set on a delicately woven band of gold.

Her mouth went dry. “Is this…?”

“At one time I meant it as an engagement ring, but now…” He cleared his throat. “I’d as soon you have it as me carrying it around for the rest of my life.”

She lifted it from the box with tentative fingers. The diamond twinkled in the dim light. It was beautiful. Far more beautiful than anything she’d ever conjured in one of her childhood daydreams about handsome princes and romantic proposals. “It’s lovely, but…you know I can’t accept it.”

“Why not? I want nothing from you in return. No promises. I realize this is goodbye.”

Jenny’s eyes met his. His face was taut, his jaw gone stiff with tension. He looked tired and…anguished. Emotion welled in her throat. “I wanted to explain—”

“What’s to explain? You’ve made your feelings abundantly clear.”

“You’re angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, I’m…” He exhaled a short gust of breath. “I don’t know what I am.”

“Tom—”

“I suppose I’m feeling sorry for myself. Wishing things were different.”

She put the ring back in the box and slowly replaced the lid. “You don’t have to go away tomorrow. You could stay here a little while longer—”

“But I can’t. My work is in London. Fothergill. My clients. All the people who depend on me. I’ve built a life there for myself. To leave it now—to drop everything and roam the world with you on a whim—would be nothing short of madness.”

“Not if you cared for me more than all the rest of it.”

The words were out before she could call them back. She’d have given anything not to have said them.

Tom’s expression hardened. “What about you? If you cared for me even a fraction of the way I—”

“That’s not fair. Not when you know how much it means to me to have my independence.”

“You wouldn’t have to give up your independence if you came home.”

“That’s exactly what I’d be giving up. And having done so, I’d be no happier with you in England than you’d be with me, roaming the world on a whim as you called it.”

“You could be happy there if you’d let yourself.”

He sounded so sure of himself. So certain that he knew what was best for her.

It should have exasperated her, but it didn’t. Indeed, the brief flare of irritation she’d felt toward him evaporated as swiftly as it had come. Now all she felt was heartsick and defeated. “We’d be content together for a time, certainly,” she conceded. “But what about a year from now? What about all the years to come? I couldn’t bear to see the feelings I have for you turn to hatred.”

Tom gave her one of his unreadable looks. “Could you hate me, Jenny?”

“I daresay I could hate anyone who took away my freedom. Who made a prisoner of me.”

“A prisoner?” He rose from his seat. “Good God. To hear you talk, one would think you’d been subjected to the worst forms of mistreatment.”

She stood. “I never claimed so.”

He crossed to the center of the room only to turn and face her, his rigid features shadowed in the light of one of the oil lamps. “Do you know, I don’t even believe it’s the desire for independence that drives you. When it all comes down to it, what you are is afraid. You believe that all men are as unreliable as your father and brothers. As careless of your tender feelings as Giles. You’re afraid of being hurt. Afraid some fellow will let you down. But I’m not like them. I’ve never been like them. If you don’t recognize it by now—”

“Of course I recognize it. I esteem you above any gentleman I’ve ever met, but—”