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“Becky’s guardian and the lieutenant’s friend, yes. You are best placed, I feel.”
“Ah. This was not the topic I had envisaged when you offered to converse before.”
“No?” Her head tilted, the questions dancing in her green eyes drawing him in. “And what sort of conversation had you imagined?”
He swallowed. Admit he’d wondered if there was a chance to learn her thoughts about matrimony? To discover her thoughts toward him? Surely a man awarded a medal for valor could be courageous to ask this.
“Aha, whatever conversation you imagined must be most challenging indeed, if you cannot speak of it now. Very well. I shall leave you to your thoughts.”
But he didn’t want to be left with his thoughts. He wanted to know hers. “Have you—I seem to recall a conversation about this before but cannot remember the whole. I wonder, have you ever …”
As he stumbled to a halt, she waited patiently, the little wings of her brows dancing as if in anticipation.
“Forgive me, I express myself so badly. I wonder if you have ever thought about marriage.” There! He’d said it. But just as before, her amusement disconcerted.
“Oh, sir, I do not make fun of you, but the questionisamusing. Rare would be the woman who has never thought of what life would be like if she were married.”
“So you have.”
“Indeed so.” Her gaze strayed from his, to rest on the flickering fire. “But as I think I mentioned before,thoughtsabout matrimony do not equate with wedded bliss. One has to have a gentleman propose, after all.”
Her words put him in mind of something she’d shared before about relationships, and God bringing people together. He studied her. His experience with wooing might be at naught, but for all her raillery and cheer, she rarely gave indication of warmer feelings toward him. His stomach clenched. Did that make the question burning in his heart too ridiculous to utter? Would she simply laugh at him? Perhaps it was better to draw back, discretion being the better part of valor, after all. For what could he offer her without being counted as a scoundrel?
“How about you, sir?” she asked, banishing the words he’d tried to formulate.
“Me? No. Never.” Until now. Possibly.
Her features stiffened, drained of animation, as she rose. “Excuse me. I must tend the fire.”
Theo blinked back tears as she jabbed the poker in and out. This was silly. This was the stuff of fainting misses, of a lass of more tender years. Not how someone of her advanced age should behave. But his words had prodded her heart, like the poker thrust in the fire, stabbing at the emotions until they could not be restrained, as the foolish, silly wisp of hope dwindled quite away.
“Miss Stapleton?” he asked now.
“There,” she said, congratulating herself on her steady voice. “I believe that shall be sufficient.”
“You have done admirably.”
“I have, haven’t I?” She dared look at him again, forcing her lips up into a smile. If a man could not overlook her flaws and be conscious of her hard work and talents, then she had no use for him. “I think I shall see how the others are going. I wonder if they might like tea.” She replaced the poker, dusted off her hands, and moved away, as standing in his presence, feeling his scrutiny on her, was eating holes in her defenses. No. She must be strong for just a little longer. How soon until they left? Perhaps absence would mend her heart.
“Miss Stapleton—”
She pretended not to hear him, hurrying to the others. “Oh, look, you have almost finished it. Well done, the both of you.”
Becky glanced up shyly at the lieutenant. “Lieutenant Musgrave has been telling me about some of the places he has been, and it seems so fascinating.”
“I’m sure it does. Perhaps he can continue his tales of travel over tea. I’m sure Mama would be ready to join us too.”
“That sounds lovely.” Becky glanced up at the lieutenant.
“Wonderful. Well, I shall just go and see where things are up to,” Theo said. “You two will be able to manage, especially with Captain Balfour playing chaperone, won’t you?”
“Chaperone?” Lieutenant Musgrave said. “I don’t think we need a chaperone, Miss Stapleton.”
“Don’t you?” Her glance fell on Becky’s look of surprise. “Forgive me. I’ll just be a moment.” She hastened from the room, refusing to glance at the captain again. Outside in the passage, she balanced a hand against the wall as she struggled to collect her spinning thoughts. No. She could do this. Just smile and pretend her heart hadn’t been touched by one such as he.
One such as he? How galling to know that nobody had truly ruffled her heart until now, and that nobody truly could unless he was known as England’s hero. Oh, she might as well be called a wet goose and be done with it!
“Theo?”
