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Speechless, she turned to face him, her heart squeezing in her chest. “You mean to marry me?” she whispered.
Those eyes of his ensnared hers. “Yes.”
A trickle of alarm coursed through her. Fanny searched his eyes for several moments, looking for that tenderness, seeking the crooked tug at his mouth, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, desperately wanting to see the tender emotions that meant he might feel something for her.
Fanny saw resolve and duty. Swallowing down the pain, she walked away. Her brother called out to her, sounding alarmed. Even Lily’s voice whispered on the air, but Fanny needed a few minutes to herself. She felt as if she could not breathe, nor did she fully understand the terrible emotions clawing up her throat and wanting to spill forth in a scream.
* * *
Simon presseda kiss to Lily’s forehead and gently handed her over to Nicholas. The flash of pain in Fanny’s eyes he had not anticipated or the worry curdling in his gut now. He had mucked it up, and he felt damn uncertain.
“Fanny and I will return shortly, if you will return with Lily to Penport and prepare for traveling as soon as possible. I wish for us to return to London. Together.”
Nicholas arched a brow but complied, taking his niece, and heading toward his carriage. Simon then ran after Fanny who had hastened her steps to the edge of the lake, where she stood peering into the glistening depths.
“Fran,” he said, “will you face me?”
She stiffened her shoulders and faced him. The pain in her eyes stole his breath. “Fran,” he began, “I can see in your eyes that you expected me to walk away.”
She swallowed, and he saw that she fought the tears with all her willpower. “Yes, the seven days have ended, and you have not remembered me.”
“I made you a promise.”
Her eyes widened and she stared at him uncertainly. “What do you mean?”
“I promised to marry you, Fanny Fairbanks, and I shall.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I do not understand,” she began. “You do not remember us…”
“I still do not remember us,” he said gruffly, “but we can create new memories.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Do you love me?”
“Fanny, love has nothing—”
“Do you love me, Simon Gracely?”
He raked his hands through his hair, at a loss how to explain the feelings she inspired. They were new and wonderful, but they were still complex and not fully known to him. “A man cannot fall in love in seven days,” he said. “Clearly that would be a man who does not understand himself or what love is.”
Her lovely eyes glistened with tears. “It took you four days the first time we met to confess your feelings.”
“I am not that man anymore,” he said tightly. “Hell, I do not know who that man is. I cannot think what could have possibly urged me to act in such a manner.”
She flinched and he winced. “I expressed that poorly.”
“No, you did not,” Fanny murmured. “You are not a man given to sentimentality, and you are exceedingly puzzled as to how you fell in love with me. It is a wonder that you should offer to marry me when there is no cause for you to do so.”
His gaze cut to the departing carriage which held their daughter.
Fanny closed her eyes. “Of course, we are only to marry because of Lily.”
“There is just cause in our union,” he said gruffly. “Our daughter would grow up in a home where she is loved.”
“My family dotes on her. She has eleven capable aunts and uncles who let Lily know she is adored every day. She has me. She has her grandmother and even the old dragon dotes on her. Your sacrifice is not needed, Simon.”
She backed away from him, but before she turned away he said, “I would like the chance to dote on my child. To love her and be there for her. I am her father, Fanny. If we do not marry, I will not be able to be a part of her life publicly.”
She wiped away the tears trailing down her face and whispered, “I must go home. Perhaps we can continue this discussion at another time, Simon.”
