Chapter Seventeen #2
Ditty waved away his interruption. ‘That’s what Charles asked for, he wanted to go and visit Miss Yorke’s family for Valentine’s as an engaged man. Family and friends here to celebrate, champagne flutes with pink ribbon—’
‘Love heart biscuits,’ cut in Henry with a grin. ‘I’ve already eaten one, I hope you don’t mind.’
Ditty nudged his arm, glad for the excuse to touch him and trying not to notice the tingling sensation rushing up her arm. Do not think about how the last time you saw him he was naked, and lustful, and— ‘Those were supposed to be for the happy couple, to take home and enjoy—and for the children!’
‘Mavis and Avril baked hundreds of these, you can’t expect Charles and Miss Yorke to eat them all,’ protested Henry with a mischievous grin.
‘Besides, old Reg’s food is doing a roaring trade.
I don’t think he made dessert, but then Mavis and April’s biscuits are hanging about the place. It’s all gone well.’
Ditty gave a theatrical sigh, but couldn’t help but privately agree. It had all gone so well. Perfectly. A perfect proposal.
‘You did it.’
She looked up into Henry’s dark eyes. He had spoken more seriously now, more quietly, words for her ears only.
Not that she should be thinking this way. Ditty swallowed. ‘I suppose I did.’
‘The perfect proposal,’ he said, as though he had seen into her mind. ‘Your career is saved, though I don’t think it was in need of saving to begin with. Everyone knows how hard you work.’
Ditty tried to smile. Did he know how much it meant, those words coming from him? ‘Thank you.’
‘You…you must be really pleased.’
Was she? Ditty hardly knew. She was pleased, at least in an abstract, distant way. She knew she would feel more pleased once she returned to London, to her rooms with Thalia and Calliope, but right now…
Right now, all she could taste was bittersweet. ‘Yes. Yes, I’m pleased.’
But how could she be? Ditty knew nothing would ever be the same again, now her time at Brexley had come to an end.
* * *
You…you must be really pleased.
Yes. Yes, I’m pleased.
Then Ditty needed to tell her face, Henry could not help but think. She looked…well, not pleased.
Could he dare hope it was because she had also realised that, after Charles’s successful proposal, there was nothing to keep her here?
Expect perhaps you.
The thought rushed through his mind before he could stop it, but Henry couldn’t lie to himself any longer.
She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known, and she was lit up most charmingly by the fading sunset and the countless candles he had lit on her behalf.
When he had whispered those words of affection, of love, he had never dreamed that she had already fallen asleep. And now he had to say them again.
Henry swallowed. If he wasn’t careful, words of devotion and admiration would flow from his lips and he would not be able to stop himself.
Who could when in Ditty’s presence?
‘Your brother seems happy.’
Henry blinked. She was pointing just over his shoulder. He turned and saw Charles, now hand in hand with Miss Yorke, who had pink cheeks, conversing with Mavis.
‘Yes, he really does,’ he said, trying to keep his voice free of emotion. It wouldn’t do to lose control. ‘I’m glad you were able to bring him such happiness.’
‘Oh, I’m not sure I can take much credit for that,’ said Ditty, who was flushing when he turned back to her.
He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You will fade away if you don’t eat more, my dear!’ said Reg suddenly as he thrust a silver platter covered in delicious-looking bruschetta between them. ‘Eat up!’
Henry took one just to keep the man happy, but wished he could have continued talking to Ditty privately. There wouldn’t be many more opportunities to do so, he knew. It wouldn’t be too long before she would be gone.
‘Thank you, Reg,’ Ditty said enthusiastically, taking two and popping one immediately into her mouth. ‘I didn’t have breakfast or luncheon,’ she said apologetically, in way of explanation. ‘I was just too nervous!’
‘Now, that’s no way to look after yourself,’ Reg said sternly. He glanced at Henry. ‘You’re the doctor, tell her!’
Henry tried to smile naturally as Reg drifted away.
‘He’s right, you’ve got to look after yourself, Ditty.’
‘Oh, Calliope will get a stew inside me as soon as I get back home,’ she said in a bracing voice. ‘She’s always cooking and baking, trying to feed me up. But they need me—they’ve always needed me.’
As soon as I get back home.
There it was. Henry had hoped the phrase wouldn’t come up somehow. Perhaps if it wasn’t mentioned between the two of them, he could go on pretending it wasn’t going to happen.
But he couldn’t. She would be going, and Brexley would be bereft.
He would be bereft.
Henry swallowed, wishing he had the right words to say but nothing came to him. How he longed for that template of hers, that proposal speech outline to help him explain just how he felt.
Georgiana had left. Now Ditty would leave. What on earth had made him think she would stay?
And Ditty had said herself, she didn’t believe in romance. It was all biological to her; this was like a play, a stage with musicians and actors who had been given their lines and performed accordingly.
‘You look very serious.’
He tried to grin. ‘Just thinking about all the preparations I’m about to be dragged into, that’s all. The wedding,’ he added, seeing her confused face.
Her confusion disappeared. ‘Oh, goodness, yes. I can imagine, as the brother of the groom, you may be called upon for a great deal of help.’
He groaned. That was all he needed, more responsibility, more things to do. ‘Goodness knows how I’m going to fit it all in, what with supervising the building work up at the Lodge.’
‘I’m glad it’s going ahead,’ said Ditty with a small smile.
His heart twisted. ‘It’s all thanks to you.’
She pretended not to know what he was talking about, but it was true. Henry had never seen anyone do so much for people she had only met weeks ago, yet she had transformed so many people’s lives.
They’d be able to live there, all his residents, in warmth and comfort. In a building that wasn’t falling apart, eating food that wasn’t scraped together from the butcher’s scraps. They’d be able to hire two more nurses, a clerk for that disaster of a study of his.
Yet Ditty wouldn’t be there to see all the fruit of her labour. She was going.
‘Roses,’ Henry blurted out.
Ditty frowned, sipping her champagne before saying, ‘I—I beg your pardon?’
‘Roses,’ he repeated, embarrassment curling inside his chest. ‘I mean, you got all the roses you wanted, then? Miss Vivienne was able to come through.’
‘It was the fireworks I was really worried about, but in the end I cancelled the order,’ Ditty said with a dry laugh. ‘You just can’t rely on some people.’
I want you to rely on me, Henry wanted to say.
His throat constricted with the unsaid words, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He’d fallen in love with Ditty, but she clearly hadn’t fallen in love with him.
Oh, she desired him, and that was flattering in itself, but she had said nothing of love, of affection, of a desire to stay here and make a life with him.
He didn’t want to make her life more complicated than it already was.
‘The roses are nice,’ he said again, hating his inability to think of something else to say.
Come on, man! This might be your last chance!
Ditty’s gaze flickered about the place, taking in the hundreds of red and white roses. ‘Yes, they are pretty. But as I said before, I always preferred daisies.’
Henry smiled painfully. Here was a woman who didn’t buy into the trappings of romance, or Valentine’s Day. Her preferences, her likes and dislikes were genuine. Who she was.
And it was that person he had fallen in love with.
‘Well, I’m glad I got to celebrate Charles’s proposal with you,’ he said aloud, knowing the inevitable could not be put off any longer. ‘You know. With you going home after this, and everything.’
He was usually an eloquent, calm, measured man. But being this close to Ditty, standing just a foot from her, was making his brain turn to mush.
‘Yes,’ she said, not quite catching his gaze. ‘My place on the stagecoach back to London is booked for tomorrow.’
‘It’s a shame. You’ll…you’ll miss the Valentine’s Day Festival.’
Silence fell between them as happy chatter surrounded them. Henry desperately wanted to ask her to stay, but how could he?
There wasn’t anything for her here in Brexley—nothing except himself.
She had no family here, no friends. No one, even someone as outstanding as Ditty, could make a living by matchmaking in a town this small.
And they had met only nineteen days ago. Nineteen days! Henry could hardly believe it himself, but the time had both rushed by and been one of the most intense, incredible times he had ever experienced.
He knew Ditty so well, loved everything he discovered about her—and wanted the chance to learn more.
But that chance was passing him by.
‘Unless…’
Henry’s ears perked up. ‘Unless?’
Ditty was looking at him with a nervous smile, the candlelight shimmering in her eyes. Her champagne flute was gone, he noticed suddenly. Someone must have taken it from her.
He’d never had one. That meant both her hands and his were empty.
Why couldn’t he reach out and take one of them?
‘Unless,’ Ditty said gently, under the hubbub of the celebration. ‘Unless there’s a reason… I should stay?’
Henry swallowed. This was it. His moment. His opening. A chance to ask her to stay, to beg her—to tell her if she got on that stagecoach tomorrow, then all his chance of happiness would be gone with her.
Brexley needs you, Henry tried out in his mind, as Ditty stared up, waiting for him to respond. The Lodge needs you.
But he knew none of those things were the real reason he wanted to get on bended knee, right here and right now, and ask her to stay. To be his wife.
He loved her. He loved Ditty Oliver, and if he didn’t do something about it, he was going to lose her.
Henry opened his mouth. Then he shut it again. ‘I…’
Excruciating embarrassment flooded through him as he tried to speak, but he couldn’t do it. Not here. Not in the same place he had once asked Georgiana to marry him, and heard those painful words still echoing through his mind…
How can you even think to ask me that? After everything I’ve been saying to you for months…and you ask me to marry you? You’re a joke!
Ditty smiled sadly. ‘Thank you for everything, Henry.’
‘Ditty—’
‘Yes?’ she whispered.
Henry’s mouth dried. He couldn’t do it.
Ditty nodded slowly. ‘There’s no need to drive me to the staging post tomorrow, Henry, Reg has already said he’ll do it. Good luck. With the Lodge. With planning the wedding. With everything.’
And with that, before Henry could say anything, before he could call out, before his boots would unstick from the ground or his heart slow down enough that he could think…
Ditty Oliver walked away, turned a corner onto the forest path and walked out of his life.