But at length, just before dinner, she ran him to ground in his study. ‘Please take a seat,’ he said, when she hesitated just inside the doorway, her heart in her mouth. He was dressed for dinner, as was she by now. His face was shuttered. He had never looked more unapproachable. She took a seat. She bowed her head. She was on the verge of tears. Was she doing the right thing? Was she walking away from what could be her heart’s desire? No. She swallowed down an incipient sob. The vision she’d had of marriage to Lord Bridgemere had convinced her he would utterly destroy her. This brief interview would be painful, but at least all her memories of him would be good ones. She would not grow bitter with resentment. Turn into a shrew that no man could like, never mind love. She took a deep breath, raised her head and looked at him. ‘I am conscious you have paid me a great compliment by asking me to marry you,’ she began, using the phrases she had rehearsed so many times in her head.
