Page 89 of Bookshop Cinderella

“Yes, so I heard.” Beneath his cap, his sky-blue eyes met hers. “Evie, I know all about what’s happened. I’m so sorry.”

At the compassion in the eyes of her childhood friend, she almost wanted to burst into tears, an emotional reaction that she’d become nauseatingly familiar with during the past week. She blinked, holding the tears back. “Yes, well, I appreciate that,” she mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

“Evie,” he began, then stopped. Jerking off his cap, he held it to his chest, and then, to her utter astonishment, he sank to one knee and grabbed her hand. “Evie, will you marry me?”

The question was so unexpected, so astonishing, she almost laughed, but laughter at a man’s proposal, even if it was born of surprise, would be cruel, and she stifled the impulse. “Rory, I’m...stunned.”

“Are you? Surely after all these years, you know how I feel?”

Clearly, she didn’t, since she was utterly surprised he was down on one knee in front of her. With all the time they’d known each other, all their many letters back and forth, she’d always known they were friends, but despite the silly girlish hopes she’d harbored about him upon his return a couple of months ago, she’d never really believed he felt anything for her that was in the least romantic. And her own romantic hopes about him seemed puerile now, shallow and silly. She swallowed, struggling for something to say. “Rory, do get up,” she said, pulling her hand from his and gesturing him to his feet. “It feels so strange staring down at you this way.”

He got to his feet, laughing, clearly relieved. “Since you’ve told me to stand up, does this mean you’re saying yes?”

Dismayed, she hastened into speech. “Rory, I know we’ve always been friends, and I have a great deal of affection for you, but—”

“Yes, exactly,” he cut in before she could finish, taking her hand again. “Affection and friendship are what I feel, too. And you can’t say our marriage wouldn’t be suitable. We understand each other, we come from the same class.”

“Well, yes,” she murmured, “but that’s hardly enough for two people to commit their lives together.”

She winced as she said it, appreciating that she’d sent Max off to find exactly that sort of marriage for himself.

“Evie, I can’t stand by and see your name dragged through the mud this way, especially when it’s clear what happened.”

“Is it?” She frowned, not sure what he meant.

“Of course! But I don’t hold it against you.”

Evie stiffened, pulling her hand free again. “Indeed?”

“Rich toff turns your head, buys you some pretty things, squires you around for a bit of fun. You think there’s no harm in it, and then, before you know it, he’s taken advantage of you in the worst way a man can. He’s made you his plaything, then left you flat. That’s how they are, men like him. Think they can just take what they want. And now he’s gone. The papers say he’s off with some other girl already, one of his own class, one he thinks is good enough to marry, and here you are. Soiled goods, your reputation ruined.”

At that painful reminder, she grimaced.

He saw it. “Don’t worry, Evie. Marry me and you’ll be all right.”

That was probably true. If she married Rory, the damage from her fling with the duke would be mitigated, if not completely forgotten, by those who knew her. But nonetheless, she wasn’t the least bit tempted.

“You’re right, of course,” she murmured, striving to find a polite way to refuse that wouldn’t hurt his feelings. “And I’m touched, Rory, deeply touched, that you would come riding to my rescue this way. But...” She paused and took a deep breath. “I can’t marry you to save myself. What about your political career? Marrying a woman tainted by scandal won’t help you there.”

“I’ll give it up,” he said. “I’ll come and take over the shop.”

“You’ll run my shop? What about me?”

He laughed. “You’ll be having babies, silly girl. That’ll be taking up most of your time. Don’t worry,” he added. “I’ll take good care of things here. We’ll live upstairs. It’s just what our fathers wanted, remember, all those years ago? They were sure all along we’d suit, that we’d be happy together.”

That was true enough. With their shared backgrounds, affection, and fondness, she and Rory were a suitable match, the sort that everyone, no matter what class they moved in, believed would deepen into love and make a happy marriage. Her father and his, were they alive, would be dancing a jig about it. She herself, two months ago, would probably have silenced any misgivings rattling around in the back of her mind and accepted him.

But she wasn’tthe same girl now that she’d been then.

“You’re right, I’m sure. But I can’t help feeling that there has to be something more to marriage than safety or suitability, or affection. There has to be love.”

“Well, of course,” he said, laughing, and for the third time, he grabbed her hand. “But I do love you. I do,” he insisted as she made no reply. “I admit, I didn’t really know just how I felt about you until recently. But since I’ve come back, I’ve come to see that my affection for you is far deeper than I ever realized.”

It must be, she supposed, since he knew what had happened to her and was proposing marriage anyway. Only a man who cared deeply would marry a girl who had already given herself to another man. And yet, his declaration of love had a strange, unreal quality to it. She couldn’t really believe it. Not that it mattered. Even if he loved her madly, she couldn’t accept.

“Rory, I am flattered and...and honored, but...” She paused to pull her hand away, yanking it free as his grip tightened. “But, with regret, I must refuse. I can’t marry you.”

He stared in obvious astonishment. She couldn’t blame him, really, given her situation. Most women would jump at the chance to be saved from ruin. But safety, as she was discovering to her surprise, was not nearly as important to her as she used to believe.

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