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I stopped breathing.

“Lex,” said Maksim.

He was already on one knee.

He had done it so smoothly that I hadn’t seen him move. He knelt on my mother’s Persian carpet beside my chair, in front of my sister, in front of my father, in front of a portrait of my great-grandfather, with the ring held up between us in a hand that was not entirely steady.

“Will you marry me?” said Maksim.

I could not speak. I could not move. I heard Jenny make a strangled noise. I heard my mother say “Oh,” in a very small voice. I heard, from the head of the table, a long, loud, incredulous inhalation as my father prepared to choke again.

“Mr. Pendleton,” said Maksim, without turning. “This is the proof of my love for your son. I am prepared to marry him. If I betray him in any way, every asset I own reverts to him. The properties. The accounts. All of it. I have had the papers drawn.”

“You’ve had the papers drawn?” I said, faintly.

“On Friday.”

“Friday! We weren’t even—”

“I hoped.”

I looked at the ring. I looked at his face. It was calm, and pale, and terrified, and it was looking up at me with everything he had.

My face was on fire. I knew that. I could feel it, the hot flood rising from my collar to the roots of my hair. My whole body was a single, enormous blush. And I was aware, in some far corner of my mind, that I ought to say yes, gracefully, in front of my family, with a joke and a hug.

Instead, I did the only thing I could think of.

I snatched the ring out of his hand, put it in my pocket, stood up so fast the chair fell over, and walked out of the room.

He caught the door before it closed.

I’d made it up the stairs and down the hall and into my old bedroom, and I’d slammed the door behind me and stood there with my back against it, breathing like a marathon runner. It opened four inches, and a foot came in, then a shoulder, then a tall figure that slid through the gap and shut it again with a click.

“Lex.”

“Go away.”

“Lex. What does it mean? Are you accepting, or rejecting me?”

I turned. He was standing three feet away, hair a little mussed, eyes very wide. He looked as if he was trying very hard not to be afraid. It was the worst thing I have ever seen him do.

“I’m going to reject you,” I said.

“You are going to reject me?”

“Totally.”

“You—” He staggered back a half step. “Are you joking? Lex, I cannot tell if you are serious. You must tell me if you are serious.”

I looked at him. And something in my chest, that great hot tangle of shame and joy and rage and love, snapped like a cable.

“You stupid ,” I said. “You idiot. I fucking accept you!”

“You—”

“I accept! Of course I accept! Did you think I’d let you get away? Did you think I’d let you walk out of my life just like that? Look, I’ll tell you now: it’s you and me till death do us part. If you leave me, you’re a dead man!” I was shouting. I was crying. “You hear me? You are mine! “

He stared at me with his mouth slightly open.