Chapter Twenty-One
Once again, Ezra had no idea why Constance was not engaging with him.
She had claimed a headache when he’d finally been able to ask her to dance at the Assembly Rooms, and then, when he sent a note inquiring after her health, she never responded.
He paced his study, wondering what mistake he had made this time.
He had been planning to ask her to marry him – and now he did not know if he could.
Was it because he had waited too long? Did she think he was not serious?
He racked his brains to think if he had done or said anything that could have offended her at the Assembly Rooms. But he had told her she was beautiful – which was true – and had come to ask her to dance, although he had ended up dancing with her sister first. That couldn’t have upset her, could it?
He had only been trying to be polite. He didn’t want to dance with anyone but Constance, but politeness dictated that he should not monopolise her all evening.
He considered riding over to her grandmother’s house to see whether she was ill or whether his missive had not reached her. And he would do so, he decided, in a day or two. He must give her a chance to respond, he thought, rather than flying into a panic because she was taking her time.
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"I don’t see why you are not responding to him," Charity said as they rode out together towards Somerton Castle, which Constance had been keen to visit.
"He wrote to you days ago now, inquiring after your health. And I don’t understand why you did not dance with him the other night, either.
You were so excited to see him – what happened? "
"I realised I had been a fool," Constance said, hoping the wind whipping past them as they rode would be enough to explain the tears that she knew were in her eyes.
"But how have you been a fool? You’re not making any sense. The man is clearly in love with you–"
"He is no such thing," Constance said with a sigh. "I had fooled myself into believing there could be something between us, but I was wrong. So no, I shan’t respond to him, because I don’t feel like seeing him right now."
Constance knew that Charity was having to push her horse harder and harder to keep up with her, but she was keen to end this conversation.
She loved her sister dearly, and she did not want to hurt her feelings by telling her that it was Ezra’s clear preference for her that had made Constance finally see clearly.
"You’re not making any sense," Charity said, the words threatening to be lost on the wind. "Why do you insist on being unhappy? He may be a bit slow off the mark to propose, I grant you – but I believe he will. And I do know about these things."
"It’s you who knows about these things, and not me, I am aware," Constance snapped, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"You are the one who all the men want, and I am your plain, boring sister. And just for once, I thought a gentleman was interested in me. A man that I actually liked – and I thought he might choose me. But no, as soon as you are there, you are the one who is picked. So yes, you have more experience in this than I – so you should know what we’re dealing with. "
Constance pulled the reins hard, her tears obscuring her view and making it unsafe for her to ride. Charity sailed past her, clearly unaware of her plan to stop, and then rounded on her, a determined look on her face.
"What utter nonsense you are talking, Constance Beaumont," her sister said, stopping when her horse was right before Constance’s. "You are not plain, and you are not boring. And above all else, Lord Gracewood does not prefer me to you."
"You don’t understand, Charity. Every time my beauty – or lack of it – comes into question, he fails.
He saw me as plain and probably poor when I entered his home by mistake, and he screamed for me to get out without giving me a chance to speak.
His mother doesn’t think I’m good enough to be a countess, and nor does the rest of the county.
They say I’m too plain, too tall, too dull.
And then, when presented with both of us to dance with, who does he choose? "
She shook her head in despair. "Do not try to persuade me otherwise, Charity. I do not blame you – you cannot help attracting all men. But I must accept the lot that God has given me and not allow my heart to be broken by hopes of another life."
"I am sorry that my dancing with the Earl upset you.
Had I realised that, I would have refused, no matter how rude it was.
But I must tell you that you are wrong. He asked me to dance out of politeness – nothing more.
And when we danced, he spoke only of you.
You can throw away this chance at happiness if you want, but do not blame me – and do not even blame him.
For he is in love with you, Constance. You just need to believe it. "
Her sister’s words rang in her ears as they looked around the abandoned castle and as they rode home, making awkward conversation occasionally, but generally riding in silence.
Could she be right? Constance wondered whether she had been a bit harsh in her judgement of the Earl.
He would have had to ask her sister to dance, to be polite.
If only he hadn’t done so first. And when he had shouted at her for being in his home, he had thought that she was a trespasser, she supposed.
Even if she had been dressed finely, and had been as beautiful as Charity, perhaps he would still have told her to leave.
And the cruel words of the gossips, and the judgement of his mother… Well, none of that was Ezra’s doing, she supposed.
She asked for a tray in her room, claiming a headache, but in reality she just needed to think.
Had she made a terrible mistake in shunning the man that she now realised she was in love with – and on three separate occasions?
Once he might have been able to forgive; perhaps twice was quirky.
But three times surely just made her seem dramatic, and before this trip, she would never have thought of herself as such.
As though mimicking the restless mood of her mind, the fine weather outside turned first to rain, then to howling wind, and then to the loudest thunderstorm Constance had ever experienced.
She doubted anyone got much sleep that night, even if they weren’t in emotional torment as she was. It was a dark, bleak night indeed.
As the storm raged, she tossed and turned in bed, wondering what she should do.
Could she go to Ezra, explain her fears, and see what he could do to allay them?
Or would that be tantamount to saying she expected to become his countess, when perhaps that was not what he was thinking at all?
It would all be so much easier if they could just have an honest and open conversation – but such things were so difficult when it came to a man who, in truth, she barely knew.
Men were all such different creatures, and she did not know how to speak with them as she might to her sister.