Page 53 of Fair as a Star

“Because I refuse to indulge your sister?”

“Not only that.” Beryl tempered her words with compassion. Henry was stuffy and frequently implacable, but he wasn’t her enemy. She had no desire to be cruel. “You must see that you and I aren’t suited.”

He didn’t reply.

She went on in spite of his silence. “It’s become abundantly clear to me since returning from Paris. I could never be the wife you require. You’d only end up disappointed in me.”

“Is that what’s prompted this behavior? You fear I’ll be disappointed in our marriage?”

“Yes, partly. But—”

“I see.” He sighed heavily, looking more inconvenienced than outraged. “You’re not thinking clearly. That much is plain. You’ve acted impulsively in selling your dress. I shall get it back for you, that goes without saying. Not but that it won’t cause tongues to wag. In future, if you—”

“You can’t get it back,” she said. “Mr. Malvern would never sell it to you, not for any sum. He’s going to display it in the window of his shop.”

Henry went completely still.

Beryl’s nerves jangled a warning. At last he was listening to her. At last she’d got his undivided attention. “It isn’t only you I worry about disappointing. If we marry, I would be disappointed, too. I would be miserable.”

“I disagree. You and I have always got on.”

“Yes, we have. And I hope we’ll continue to do so. But a marriage—the kind of marriage I want—must be based on more than that. There must be affection. Love.”

“Such things can grow with time.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but they won’t. Not between us. We’re too—”

“It is Mark, isn’t it?”

“I don’t wish to discuss Mark.”

His face hardened. He rose from his chair. “I see.”

She stood as well, hands clasped in front of her. She was quite tempted to ask him what he knew of Mark’s feelings for her, but she couldn’t permit the discussion to take that turn, not for any amount of curiosity. She wouldn’t be responsible for driving a further wedge between the two brothers. “Leave him out of it, please. This is about you and me. My decision would be the same regardless.”

“Regardless of your love for him.” Henry’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. “Do you comprehend the talk this is going to cause? Will already have caused?”

“I have some notion,” she said.

“Do you? Do you truly? What do you suppose the villagers are going to have to say when they see your wedding dress up on display in the front window of Malvern’s Emporium? When they see you with my brother?”

“Henry, don’t.”

“I can weather the storm. You, on the other hand—”

“I shall weather it, too,” she assured him. “In the end, it will be worth it for all of us.”

“Pray it doesn’t destroy you in the process.” Henry walked to the marble fireplace. He stopped in front of it, standing with his back to her. His shoulders were taut beneath the lines of his frock coat. He was angry. Possibly hurt as well. She hadn’t known he was capable of being hurt. “Does your mother know about this?” he asked. “Does your aunt?”

“I haven’t told them yet.”

“And Mark?”

Her temper flickered. “You’re determined to make this about him.”

“Is he aware that you’re here?” Henry asked again. “That you’re calling things off between us?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t even know—”