Page 96 of The Scarred Duchess
She presented her left hand; he reverently cupped it and applied his lips in a perfectly gentleman-like manner. She invited him to join her on the long sofa.
“May I say that you look absolutely fluvial?”
“Fluvial? What a singular observation.”
“I speak only the truth. In blue, your presence flows like a wending river. I could drown in it, happily.”
The tea cart was brought in by one of Matlock’s servants who left as rapidly as he had arrived. Jane poured for him and then herself. “This is your first call in three hundred days.”
John lifted an eyebrow. “Are you enticing me with my love of numbers?”
She laughed. “You have caught me out.” She brushed out her dress. “How does your mother?”
“She is well. She enjoys her time spent with your mother, and any news she has of you and Elizabeth,” he replied.
“I am glad. Our fathers had always been excellent friends.”
“It is very good of you to remember him. Your last visit remains painted upon my memory,” he admitted.
“I would imagine it would.” She placed her cup into its saucer. “Would you be shocked if I told you of my disappointment with your choice of companions that day?”
“Shocked? No. My disappointment was with myself. That is another matter.”
Jane looked down at the linen she fiddled with. “I thought I saw you at a ball three nights ago.”
“Had I attended, would you have accepted my request for a dance?”
“Had you attended, would you have asked?”
“Your father’s instructions have prevented me from doing so.Wouldhave prevented me.”
“You have spoken with my father?” she asked in astonishment.
“I did a week past.” He paused. “As I have done every month for the past half-year.”
Jane swallowed. “That is quite a definition of constancy.”
“It is.”
“Your flowery admiration has been my greatest joy.”
He gazed at her earnestly. “Years ago, you sought a friend. Do you recall my reply?”
“Yes,” she said. “You assured me of your lasting friendship.”
“I stand by my claim,” he declared, his voice even and deep.
Jane’s heart raced. John was her oldest and closest friend. They had been betrothed before her accident. She had broken off their understanding to protect him. Protect herself. Her heart. Now she had another chance. Would such a worthy man consider offering her his hand a second time? She wanted to share her true self with him. She wanted to be loved for herself, for who she had been, in the country. There, she had been happy. There, she had been with John. The fickleness of society with its rejections and false acceptances had worn down her equanimity. She was tired of constantly hiding who she really was.
Either he still loves me or…?She reached for his hand. His eyes softened.
“Do you find me tolerable, John?” she whispered. She held her breath, fear warring with hope.
“I find you perfectly tolerable, Jane.” He turned her hands over and kissed her palms. “And should you allow me, I shall remind you of this understatement every day for the rest of our lives.” He looked directly into her eyes. “Together.”
“Together?” she asked.Together, she hoped in wonderment. She slowly exhaled.
She watched as John fell to his knees and looked at her, his adoration clear.
