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“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, you and I.” She bit her lower lip. “I do not deserve this,” she said barely above a whisper.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “I see. Well, I happen to feel the same way. Perhaps that is what it takes to make a lasting marriage? Never take the other for granted?”
“Beautifully put,” Ellen agreed.
His eyes travelled down her face and throat, and his smile brightened. “You are wearing the locket,” he said. He had obviously not seen her wear it before. She took her hand off his shoulder and fingered it.
“Yes, of course,” she said.
“Is there anything in it?” he asked, looking amused.
“No. But I thought perhaps you might sit for me one of these evenings, and I could draw your silhouette?” She had wanted to ask him since he had given the locket to her a few days ago but had not known quite how to go about it. He seemed pleased that she had asked, however.
“I should be glad to, if that is what you want.”
“It is,” she replied.
The music began to slow, and the dance was soon at an end. Applause filled the room. Thankfully it was short-lived, for the next dance started, and several couples went out to the dance floor. Simon took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm.
They were joined by her younger sisters and parents a few moments later. She let go of Simon’s arm and greeted them each with a kiss on the cheek. Beatrice piped up in her usual bold manner.
“Lord Simon, you have been married to my sister for over a month, and you have never once asked me to dance. Is that not a travesty?” she asked, her eyes dancing.
“Beatrice!” Ellen whispered harshly, looking back at her husband. But there was only amusement dancing in his eyes.
“No, Ellen, she is right. Forgive me, madam. I hope you may forgive my oversight by doing me the honour of a dance now?” he asked, holding out his hand in a magnanimous gesture. Beatrice smiled and took his hand, and they walked out to the dance floor together.
Agatha was soon whisked away by the younger Tilbury brother a moment later, who Ellen was pleased to see in attendance. Simon had obviously asked his parents to invite their neighbours, showing her even more how gentlemanly he was and how eager he was to please her. She watched him dance with Beatrice, a lively jig that had them all beaming from ear to ear.
“It seems to me that you are infatuated with your husband. Imagine such a thing!”
Ellen jumped slightly as Golda appeared at her side. Her sister shot her a sideways smirk.
“I am not infatuated,” Ellen protested. But even as she said the words, she knew that no amount of objections could hide the truth from her voice or her eyes. She gave a short laugh and amended her words posthaste.
“Very well—you are falling in love with him then?” Golda amended.
Ellen paused, unable to speak. She gazed at her husband and could no longer deny the feelings that had started to bloom within her. “It is too early to tell, surely…” she said haltingly, “I-I think Simon and I have a good chance of being content with one another, if nothing more.”
She was afraid to admit that she was falling in love with him. What if he did not return her feelings, ruined by her early behaviour toward him? She did not deserve his love any more than she deserved to be the queen of England.
Golda uttered a short laugh. “It is even worse than I feared. Youarefalling in love with him!” She shook her head and followed Ellen’s gaze out to the dance floor. “It is all over you, Ellen. Do not deny it, for I see right through your lacklustre words.”
Ellen was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening toward Simon. She followed him with her eyes as if not looking at him would deprive her of the very air she breathed.
“You are right,” she said softly. “I never thought it would be possible, but I am falling in love with him. Sometimes I can hardly breathe when he looks at me. And other times, it feels like my whole being comes alive, like I’ll stop breathing when he is not looking at me.”
Golda was quiet for a moment, and when she looked back at her sister, she wore a dazed look. “Well, I would say that I was correct. Have you ever thought of taking up poetry?” she asked. She began to fan herself. “I felt the exact same way with Thomas. And I can see that Simon looks at you with the same sort of admiration. He loves you, too, Ellen. Has he told you so?”
“Not yet,” Ellen admitted.
“Well, if I know anything about love—and I like to think that I do—his confession will not be long in coming,” she said with a wink.
Ellen looked back to the dance floor and heard Simon’s rich laughter echoing around the room, and he and Beatrice twirled arm in arm. He looked like he was having a wonderful time. “I hope so,” she said softly.
Golda and Ellen visited until the dance ended, and Beatrice and Simon returned to join them. Simon came to Ellen’s side and again put her hand into the crook of his arm as if she belonged at his side. And indeed, she was beginning to feel it more and more. She was getting to where she never wanted to be parted from him for longer than a few minutes. Was this what it felt like to be in love—so achingly sweet?
She moved a little nearer, relishing his closeness, and smiled at her sister when she flashed her a knowing look. She rolled her eyes at her sister and waved her off, not wanting Simon to see her antics.
