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He ran away from home, which was a ridiculous, somewhat lowering way of putting it when he owned the house and was almost twenty-four years old. But the simple fact was that he bolted.
That went without saying, though they said it anyway.
His house, in fact, was not his own home—that realization came like an epiphany. It never had been. Whose fault that was must be examined at some future date. It was tempting to blame his relatives, but … Well, he would have to think the whole matter over. He had a niggling suspicion, though, that if he was not master here, the fault lay with him.
I do not even want to marry. Not yet. And if and when I do want it, I shall choose the lady myself. Very carefully. And I shall make sure that if she says yes, it is not simply because she understands and will not mind.”
Vincent refused to feel guilty—and of course was consumed by nothing but guilt.
And being ignored was actually better than being noticed, experience had taught her during those years with Aunt Mary.
“It is the mark of a good butler,” Vincent said, “that he can lie with a straight face and perfect conviction.” “I am not your butler,” Martin reminded him. “And what would you have been even if I were? An optical illusion?
It gave him a bit of a pang to think of marrying without even informing his mother and his sisters, but on the whole it seemed best for Miss Fry herself. It would put them on a more equal footing.
He was glad she did not try to take it from him or insist upon going ahead of him so that she could help him. A man must retain some dignity.
The future had a habit of being nothing like what one expected or planned for. The future would take care of itself.
They are especially loving and protective of me because I am the only male and I am the youngest. And to top it off, I am blind.
“I have taken lessons for both instruments in the last three years,” he said. “I am proficient at neither, alas, but I am improving.
The harp is another matter. There are just too many strings, and I have been sorely tempted on more than one occasion to hurl the thing through the nearest window. But since the fault is mine, not the harp’s, and I would not particularly enjoy being hurled through a window myself, I usually conquer the urge. And I am determined that I will master the harp.”
“But how devoid of music our lives would be,” he said, “if we allowed the making of it only to those of outstanding talent.
I am melting at this book
“It does not happen to everyone, or even perhaps to most, but it does happen. And it must be wonderful when it does. Most people settle for comfort instead. And there is nothing wrong with comfort.”
“Please?” Lady Kilbourne added. “It is ages since I was last at a wedding. It is three days since Gwen’s.”
I like it and I like her. Hugo, anything to add?” “Not when you ask me in that tone, lad,” Hugo said hastily.
Ah, let him be adequate. Let him be a worthy husband for this damaged little waif he was marrying. Let him be a good companion and friend. Let him be a decent lover. Let him protect her from harm all the days of their lives. She was blameless. She had come to his rescue that night of the assembly and would have suffered her punishment for the rest of her days if he had not persuaded her to marry him. Let her never regret marrying him. Let him cherish her. Let him put aside second and ninety-second thoughts from this moment on. He was in the process of getting married. Let him be married, then,
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Ahhhhh
Sometimes one had to make a determined effort if one was not to drift on in life unchanging. Change had come to her life, and she had the chance to change with it—or not.
“I hate surprises when I have to wait to know what they are,”
“You are beautiful. Take a blind man’s word for it. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
It must be a dreadful thing, she thought, to hug such unhappiness about oneself and defend it for a whole lifetime against all comers.
