And yet it was the most breathtaking thing Susannah had ever seen. Aubrey took her aside, in the midst of the dancing, to offer it. There, behind a potted palm that Maisie had dragged in from the main parlor, he put the same question to her as before, but this time he spoke only with his eyes. Will you marry me, Susannah? She looked at the ring, then at his face, remembering what Ethan had said regarding the dangers of waiting too long for love. Perhaps he was right; perhaps love was something that could be nurtured and cultivated. She swallowed hard. “It’s—it’s not really proper, is it? Our getting married, so soon after—after Julia?” “Whatever Julia and I shared was over long before she died,” he said. His voice was low, but he did not seem concerned that others might overhear their conversation. “You’ll be happy with me, Susannah. I promise you that.” Her friend hadn’t been content, she reflected, for she was possessed of a logical turn of mind, generally speaking.
