a bit haggard. Haven’t the megrim, have you?”
“I’m quite all right.”
He eyed her plate as it was being removed. “You’ve barely touched your food.”
“I…wasn’t too hungry.”
“As soon as dinner is over, I shall take you for a turn outside. That will put you to rights.” He covered her gloved hand with his large one and pressed it.
She could only nod and turn away from him, knowing the real reason he would be taking her outside.
Although there were a dozen courses to be got through, and she ate little, she found the meal going by too quickly. It was with dread that she watched the final dishes being cleared. The glacé cherries had helped refresh her but it signaled the end of the meal.
As soon as the other ladies rose to go to the drawing room, she knew her time was short.
“Are you quite all right, dear?” Beatrice asked as they seated themselves. “You seemed quiet at dinner.” She frowned, looking at her more closely. “You look awfully pale.”
Lindsay smoothed down her silk gown. “Just a bit of headache.”
The hostess came by and asked her to play a piece, and Lindsay almost jumped up at the chance to be doing something—anything—to forget for a few moments what the evening was for. She sat down at the pianoforte and looked over the sheet music. With shaking fingers, she finally settled on an ode of Handel’s. As she began to play and sing, her breathing steadied, and for a little while she managed to put aside thoughts of what awaited her.
“That was charming. You have a lovely voice, Lindsay.”
“Thank you,” she murmured to the hostess as she resumed her place beside Beatrice. Another guest took up the instrument and Lindsay pretended to be listening to the music.
All too soon, the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. Her father wasted no time, strolling over to her with a purposeful step, bringing Mr. Stokes with him.
“My dear, Jerry tells me you were feeling a bit peaked at dinner. He suggests a stroll in the garden. It will be just the thing.”
She rose slowly, trying to steady her breathing. “Yes, Papa.”
Mr. Stokes took her by the elbow and led her to one of the doors to the garden.
She wrapped her shawl more tightly around her once they were in the chill night air.
“It is not too cold for you?”
“No, but perhaps we can soon return to the drawing room.” All she wanted now was for the evening to be over. She’d been fretting about it and dreading it for so long that she’d decided it was best to simply comply with her father’s wishes and make everyone happy.
“Yes, of course.” They walked along the gravel pathway until they were a distance from the house. The lights spilled out of the upper level windows onto the dark garden.
“Your father has given me to understand I have found favor with you.”
She moistened her lips. How could she pretend this was what she wanted? She tried to think of the pleasure she’d take in pleasing her father but her mind was numb. “Ye…yes…”
He took her hand in his. “In that case, I should like to ask for the honor of your hand in marriage.”
She was silent for what seemed a long time. It was as if she stood poised at the edge of a cliff. Behind her was all that she was familiar with—her happy childhood spent in her mother’s company, her girlhood friendships at her boarding school, even the amiable times recently with Beatrice. A brief flash of Reverend Hathaway—but no, she blocked out all that his image evoked. She would break down if she thought about him.
Finally, the word came out, a mere breath on the night air. “Yes.”
“You have made me a most happy man.” He took her chin in his hand and guided her face upward. Her first impulse was to pull back, but his face came down too quickly, his fingers locking onto her chin. His sweet cologne filled her nostrils, bringing a wave of nausea over her.
The next second, his wine-stained lips touched hers, and she recoiled. But he pressed against hers, hard, until she felt she would suffocate.
“Please,” she gasped when he released her lips a fraction.
“You are so lovely,” he breathed against her skin before assaulting her lips once more. His whiskers burned her cheeks. She tasted the residue of tobacco and port on his lips. She beat her hands against his chest, but he was immovable. Waves of dizziness swept over her.
Finally, it was over. She gulped in the night air.
“You will make me the happiest man,” he murmured, his hooded eyes staring at her heaving chest. She turned away from him, shielding herself from his view.
But he reached out and took her elbow, forcing her gently but firmly around. “You will grow to like it, dearest Lindsay. I may call you that, may I not, now that we are to be wed? You’ll grow to like it,” he repeated, his voice a velvety threat.
“Is everything all right?”
Lindsay turned with a sharp intake of breath to face Reverend Hathaway.
His look and tone were so solicitous she had to fight the urge to throw herself upon his broad chest and ask for his protection. She had come to his Bible study feeling it her only place of refuge in the nightmare her life had become in a few short weeks.
She pressed her lips together, trying to maintain her composure. “Yes, of course,” she finally managed, the words coming out a choked laugh.
His blue eyes continued to regard her with concern. “I’m sorry if I seem to be overly inquisitive. I only wondered because of our talk the other day. I take it the Lord has answered your prayers to your satisfaction?”
She gripped her teacup more firmly, finding it harder to maintain her composure. Oh, how she wanted to confide her fears to him! “I—want so much to obey and yet—”
“And yet?”
At that moment, Jonah tapped his teaspoon against his cup, calling everyone’s attention. “Miss Hathaway has finally settled on a date for the wedding. It’s to be the last Saturday of this month and you are all invited to attend the ceremony, which our good parson here will perform.”
At once, everyone began clapping and talking at once. Well-wishers crowded between her and Reverend Hathaway.
Turning away, she swallowed her anguish and told herself it was for the best. What could he do after all? He had enough worries of his own taking care of his parish. She wouldn’t add to his burden.
Lindsay walked slowly to Miss Hathaway and Mr. Quinn. Mr. Quinn stood beside Miss Hathaway’s chair and beamed at everyone who shook his hand. “Yes, I’m a blessed man. She’s certainly marrying beneath her, but let’s hope she’ll succeed in bringing me up a smidgen more than she’s managed already.”
As
