he next morning Mr. Beaufort called on me again. As soon as he entered the drawing room, he addressed Lady Caroline.

“Is there some place I might speak with Miss Daventry in private?”

Oh, no.

Lady Caroline said something about needing to speak with the housekeeper and shut the door behind her as she left.

I was not ready for this conversation. It had happened too quickly, and I had given no thought as to how I might respond.

I gestured toward the settee. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Only if it pleases you,” he said with a smile.

I sat on the settee and folded my hands in my lap, wondering what to say to him.

Evidently he did not need my contribution, though. He sat next to me and said, “Miss Daventry, I have not been able to stop thinking of you since the moment I laid eyes on you. You have captured my heart, and I cannot restrain myself from declaring that I love you!” He grasped my hand and knelt before me. “I have little in the ways of the world to offer you, but what I can offer you is my undying affection, my esteem, and my relentless adoration of you. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

I wondered how I had ever thought him handsome. His eyes seemed like shallow pools—nothing like the depth I always saw in Philip’s eyes. Of course, I was not choosing between Mr. Beaufort and Philip, because Philip had not offered for me. But I was choosing for myself, and even if nobody else wanted me, I did not want to spend the rest of my life looking into those dull, shallow eyes.

“I am sorry,” I said. “I cannot accept you.”

Mr. Beaufort’s smile dropped, and his eyes flashed with something like anger. I leaned away from him, surprised by the sudden turn in his emotion. But he abruptly returned to smiling, and said, “Perhaps you need time to consider my offer.” He took my hand and pressed his lips to it. “I will be happy to call on you again.”

He left before I could tell him not to bother. I was sure I would not be changing my mind. I would rather grow into an old spinster than marry a man I did not love, now that I knew what it meant to love.

I walked across the room and stood in front of my mother’s painting. Had Lady Caroline been right about my mother? Had she felt like Lady Caroline had everything my mother wanted? If so, I understood perfectly why the friendship had ended. I think I would hate Cecily forever if she had everything I wanted—Edenbrooke and Meg and Philip. Especially Philip. I touched the frame and leaned toward the painting, wishing fiercely for my own mother.

“My dear, are you unwell?”

I lifted my head. It was Mrs. Clumpett, with her perpetual smile. Even now, with her forehead creased with worry, her mouth still turned up.

“No, I am well,” I said. “Only a little... homesick.”

She nodded. “I can well understand that feeling. Mr. Clumpett and I have missed our own home. The birds around here are just not the same. And the library is so disorganized.”

I smiled. “You’re right.”

“In fact, now that I think of it, I believe it’s time for us to go home. Oh, wait, I forgot.” She glanced at me quickly, then looked away. “We will have to stay a little while longer.” She sighed. “Unless... tell me, do you think you might be leaving any time soon?”

I thought of my letter to my father. “Perhaps,” I said. “I hope so, but it’s hard to know.”

She nodded, and for once she didn’t look like she was smiling. Was her decision somehow tied up in my plans? Why would that be so? Was this one more person who didn’t want me here?

“Let me know when you have your plans settled,” she said. “I do miss our birds.”

It was such a little thing to say—“I do miss our birds”—but it touched me deeply. It reminded me of everything I missed about my own home, and the happiness I had once felt there.

Time in Philip’s absence did terrible things. Clocks slowed, the sun stood still in the sky, even the nights stretched longer than normal. I felt as if entire months had passed since the ball, though it had only been four days. I went about my normal activities. I ate food and I slept and I spent my days in the company of the other women. But through it all I felt as if an important part of me was absent. Perhaps it was my heart.

Cecily and I had hardly spoken since I had stormed out of her room the day after the ball. She and Louisa were as thick as thieves. They were always going off on walks together and whispering to each other. I did not attempt to join them. Instead, I focused on my new project.

Rather than trying to fulfill my grandmother’s assignment, I spent my free time painting scenes of Edenbrooke. Five days after Philip left, I had half a dozen paintings of some of my favorite views of the estate. I wanted to record as much as I could of this place, which, for a time, had been the closest thing to paradise I could have imagined on earth. I mourned the thought of leaving this place forever. When Cecily married Philip, I would not come back here. I knew it. My mother never came back, and now I understood why.

I was sketching the view from my bedroom window when Cecily came into my room.

“Only three more days until the ball,” she said.

I nodded, keeping my gaze on the bridge as I worked on making the angles of the arch look just right. If I looked at just the angles and stones, I could train myself to not think of Philip riding toward the bridge with a whistle on his lips. It was hard work, but I was subduing my heart a little more every day.

“I don’t know what I will do if Sir Philip doesn’t come back in time for the ball,” she said, flopping down on my bed. Her golden hair fanned around her face as she pouted at the ceiling. “I have spent hours planning exactly how I’m going to make him declare his feelings for me, and if he isn’t here I will be so disappointed I will die. You don’t know what it’s like to have all of your hopes for your future happiness pinned on one man. The suspense is excruciating!”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure you will not die of disappointment, Cecily. And if Sir Philip is going to declare himself, he will probably find an opportunity to do so without your scheming.”

I thought I had my heart firmly under control, but the words I spoke caused sharp stabs of pain. The thought of Philip declaring himself to Cecily was too much for me to contemplate.

“Perhaps Mr. Kellet will come and keep you entertained if Sir Philip isn’t here in time,” I said. I couldn’t keep the touch of malice out of my voice, but Cecily didn’t appear to notice.

“I hope so,” she said, rolling over onto her stomach. “I made sure he was on the guest list.”

“See? You will have plenty of... pleasure to look forward to.”

She smiled with a faraway look in her eyes, as if remembering something enjoyable.

“I wonder who is the better kisser—Sir Philip or Mr. Kellet?” She looked at me. “Who would you rather kiss?”

“Neither,” I lied.

“Hmm. I don’t know either. But I’ll be sure to let you know when I find out.”

Resentment surged within me. “If you do find out, please don’t tell me. There are some things I would rather not hear.”

“By the way,” she said, “whatever happened with Mr. Beaufort?”

I was surprised to realize I hadn’t told her. But then, I had hardly talked to Cecily at all since Philip left.

“He offered for me, and I rejected him. That is all.”

“Good. I didn’t want to tell you at the time, but I think there’s something not quite right about him.”

I thought of his shallow eyes and had to agree with her assessment.

Before she left, she looked over my shoulder at my drawing. “You have a real gift for art. You’re much better at it than I will ever be.”

“Thank you.” What a nice thing to say. I looked at my drawing, then up into my sister’s face. I had let my feelings for Philip come between us, and I was sorry for it. I set down my pencil and turned to her. “Cecily, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my courage, and asked, “Did you want me to come to Edenbrooke? Or was it Lady Caroline’s idea?”

She tilted her head. “What made you ask that?”

I held her gaze. “Just tell me, please.”

Cecily tucked a strand of my hair back into its twist. “It may have been Lady Caroline’s idea, but of course I wanted you. You’re my sister.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that I believed her. My heart lifted and I smiled. It felt so strange to smile, and such a relief at the same time, that I had to stop and think about the last time I had smiled. I couldn’t remember a single instance of happiness since Philip had left.

“I think we need to spend more time together,” Cecily said. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” I felt a real fondness for her in that moment, and after she left, I continued to smile.

The next afternoon I was sketching the view from the library window when Rachel found me. I almost had the orchard complete. When I painted it, I would make the sky look overcast, as it looked the day Philip and I spent in here.

“Oh, here you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I looked up from my drawing. She came toward me with a smile. “I have just received a letter from William.”

I stared at her. Did men really write home to their wives while they were off... carousing?

“I knew you would want to hear it,” she continued, as she closed the door and came to sit next to me, “as it mentions Philip.”

Dread made my heart pound hard. I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I can’t imagine there is anything in there I am interested in hearing.”

“Come now, you can be honest with me. I’ve seen how you’ve been moping around the house, and if it’s not Philip you’re pining for, it’s William, and that would not suit me well at all.”

I frowned at my drawing. “I am not pining for anyone.”

“Nonsense. Of course you are.” She smiled brightly at me, then looked at her letter. “Let’s see. It sounds like they are really enjoying themselves. Oh, here is the part I wanted to read to you: ‘Philip has fallen in love with a real beauty, with nice legs and beautiful lines. He thinks the price is too dear, but I would not be surprised if he brings her home in the end.’”

I felt as if I were being strangled. “I have no wish to hear about Philip’s... conquests,” I choked out.

Rachel looked up. “No, dear, you know they aren’t participating this year.”

I could not look her in the face. They weren’t participating? What did that mean? I didn’t know that much about these things.

“They’re... not?”

She looked at me curiously. “No, because Philip gave that horse to you to ride instead. I thought you knew.”

“That horse?” Some part of my mind was not working properly, obviously, because I could not fathom what a horse had to do with any of this. “Do you mean Meg?”

She waved dismissively. “Whatever the name is.”

I was working hard to assemble this puzzle, but without success. “What does Meg have to do with whether or not they... participate?” I blushed saying the word.

She stared at me as if I were daft, then set the letter down on her lap and spoke slowly and carefully. “Well, my dear, they need a horse in order to participate in the races. And they didn’t take a horse this year, because Philip gave you a racehorse to ride and then didn’t want to take her away from you.”

I gaped at her. “Races? Horse races?”

“Yes. They’re at Newmarket. I thought you knew that.”

“But—but you told me that your father would not have approved of what they were doing.”

“No, it’s true, he never did approve of racing.” She sighed. “But there are a lot worse ways for a man to spend his free time, so I don’t stop William from going.” She smoothed her hand over the letter in an affectionate gesture. “It has been a dream of his, all along, to breed racehorses, but of course it’s not financially possible for us. To be honest, I have suspected that Philip might be doing all of this more for William’s sake than for his own interest.” She smiled a little wistfully. “He never has forgiven himself for inheriting everything, you know.”

A surge of emotion was struggling against the bands I had placed around my heart. It beat hard. I felt it awaken, stir, and stretch. My hands trembled.

“I didn’t know,” I murmured.

She laughed lightly. “Well, what did you think they were doing?”

I looked away in embarrassment. “Um... I thought... I assumed... they were involved in a different sort of... behavior.”

Rachel suddenly gasped. “Conquests? You didn’t really think—” She burst into laughter. “Oh, it’s no wonder you’ve been acting so miserable since they left! You poor thing.” She put an arm around my shoulder as she laughed, but I was too mortified to join in.

After a moment, she pulled away and said gently, “But how could you suspect Philip of such behavior? Considering how close you two are, I would have thought that you would know his character better than that. Don’t you know what sort of gentleman Philip is?”

I dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t,” I mumbled. “I don’t know anything.”

“Well, I have known Philip my entire life, and I can tell you what sort of man he is.” I looked up. “The very best kind,” she said, watching me carefully. “And he deserves the very best kind of lady for his wife. But I don’t think Cecily fits that description. Do you?”

I looked at her sharply. Guilt for secretly agreeing with Rachel battled with loyalty within me. Loyalty won.

“No, you’re mistaken. Cecily has some wonderful qualities. She is well-suited for the sort of elegant lifestyle Sir Philip can provide.”

Rachel smiled kindly. “It’s obvious what you’re doing, and you are very noble to try to step out of the way for your sister. But she’s not the one Philip wants.”

I regarded her in silence, wanting to believe her. But what if she was just meddling, like Lady Caroline? How could I dare allow myself to hope? My will battled with my heart, and I... I sat, stunned, with my heart begging me to hope.

“Do you know what I think?” Rachel asked.

I shook my head.

She held up the letter from William. “I think that Philip has been just as miserable as you since he left, which leads me to believe that something has come between you two.”

I touched my cheek, trying to smooth away my blush. “There was nothing to come between us. We have been friends. That is all.”

She raised both eyebrows. “Philip does not look at you the way a man looks at his friend.”

I looked away, embarrassed and miserable. “That’s just because he’s a flirt. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“A flirt? Whatever gave you that idea?”

I blinked in surprise. “I thought it was common knowledge. Miss Fairhurst led me to believe that everyone knew about his reputation.”

Rachel looked astonished. “You believed Miss Fairhurst? Really, Marianne, I thought you had more sense than that.”

I stared at her. “You mean, he’s not a flirt?”

She looked at me for a long moment, as if debating what to say. “I won’t deny that many ladies have fallen in love with him, but I will tell you this: I have never seen Philip behave toward anyone the way he behaves toward you.”

My thoughts spun as every assumption on which I had built my understanding of Philip dissolved. I looked at my hands in my lap and saw them trembling.

“Rachel, I am willing to admit that I have been fooled, and confused, and very naïve. But if Philip did feel something for me, why didn’t he say anything?”

She leaned toward me, speaking urgently. “Marianne, you must understand that Philip has a very strong sense of what it means to be a gentleman. And, according to his principles, he couldn’t court you, considering the circumstances.”

I was confused. “What do you mean? What circumstances?”

“You have been in a very vulnerable position, with your father far away and without another man to protect you. Philip took on a guardian’s role when he took you in as his guest. Indeed, he told your grandmother that he would act as your protector while you stayed here.

“How could he declare himself while he was in that position of responsibility toward you? Don’t you see how his sense of honor as a gentleman would have prevented that, unless he was sure of your feelings? He wouldn’t take advantage of your vulnerability by declaring himself while you were so obligated to him.”

I twisted my hands together while my thoughts reeled. Why had I never considered any of this? Probably for the same reason I had hidden my feelings for Philip from myself. I didn’t want to face what could potentially break my heart. And then there was the issue of Cecily’s feelings.

“Of course,” Rachel said, “if he was certain of your feelings, he probably would have said something.”

I laughed a little. “I wasn’t even certain of my feelings. And then there was the fact that Cecily had claimed him first.”

Rachel nodded. “I thought as much. But if Philip had loved Cecily, or had even been interested in her, he would have courted her in London. So I think you can put aside that doubt. The real question is, what are you going to do to encourage Philip to declare himself to you?”

My mouth fell open. “Do? What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything! I don’t even know how Philip feels about me.”

Rachel scoffed. “Philip has been wearing his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. He obviously loves you. But everyone needs some encouragement, and I think you need to be prepared to offer some encouragement when Philip returns.”

She left me after that, smiling as if she was very pleased with herself.

Standing, I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. My thoughts tumbled furiously. Philip and William were at Newmarket at the horse races, not off carousing. I wondered how I could have misunderstood Rachel when we had first discussed the men’s trip. I couldn’t remember the exact words we had exchanged, but I had felt certain that I knew what she had been talking about.

Words were such slippery things. I could take Rachel’s words and understand them in one way, and then look at them again from her perspective and understand them in a completely different way. The same thing had happened when I had listened to her read from William’s letter. I’d felt certain he was referring to Philip falling in love with a woman, not a horse.

Was there something flawed about my thinking? Or had one wrong assumption led to another? Words alone were ambiguous, unreliable. But what could be reliable, if not words?

I was so caught up in trying to understand how I had made my mistake in judgment that I almost overlooked a significant part of my conversation with Rachel. I had been right about Philip’s character. Rachel had confirmed what I had initially thought—that Philip was a gentleman and that he would not participate in the sorts of activities I had suspected him of.

Perhaps I was right about something else, too. Perhaps I was right when I thought that Philip really did care for me, if only as a friend. Maybe—just maybe—I had misinterpreted what he had told William in the fencing room.

Maybe he felt honor-bound not to declare himself while he was responsible for me and that’s why he said he wanted to be rid of his responsibility toward me. I turned from the thought. It was too much to hope for.

As far as whether or not he was a flirt, I gave that some thought as well. It occurred to me that I had never seen Philip flirt with anyone besides me. He had certainly never flirted with Cecily, or Miss Grace. I had observed him at the ball, and he had not smiled at any other young lady the way he had smiled at me. He had never had that teasing gleam in his eyes when he looked at anyone else.

I shook my head in wonder. It was possible. It was just possible that I had been mistaken before. I wanted to believe that I was mistaken now, and not just for my own sake. I desperately wanted to believe that I really knew Philip. I had fallen in love with the man I thought him to be, and I wanted to believe that man existed.

My heart and mind battled until I could no longer think and rethink everything. I understood Philip’s love letter now, when he wrote about being driven to the edge of madness by love. I was at the edge of madness myself, and I had to do something to distract myself.

I walked outside and made my way to the stable. I stepped inside Meg’s stall, picked up the currycomb, and began to groom her. I had always enjoyed grooming horses. There was something about the shushing sound of the brush against their coat, and the warmth of their flank against my hand, that soothed me.

The repetitive action and quiet calm allowed me to ponder what Rachel had told me. I had no clear answers about Philip. But I had hope, and I was willing to wait and find out for myself what was true and what was false.

A thought rose to the surface of my mind as I brushed Meg. I was not entirely unwanted here. Lady Caroline liked me—I was sure of it. And Rachel seemed to like me too. She went out of her way to talk to me and give me hope about Philip. And Cecily was a devoted sister. She wanted me here too.

The joy that realization granted me was overwhelming. Leaning my head against Meg’s neck, I sniffed as tears of relief and happiness streamed down my cheeks. Then I laughed at myself, lifted my head, and wiped my cheeks. Surely I had cried enough in the past week to last a lifetime. I was turning into a watering pot, and that was unlike me.

“So you’re a racehorse,” I said to Meg as I continued to brush her. “You should have told me. If I had known, I would have pushed you harder. We could have beaten that black horse of his.”

She whinnied in response.