Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Geneva felt better once she was on her own and her unease began to recede.
She was being silly, she told herself as she hurried down the path.
Of course it would be embarrassing and uncomfortable the first time.
She had no experience of these things and had not been prepared.
She and Rory had been overtaken by passion, just like the lovers in the romance novels she liked to read.
But Rory had been tender and gentle, and had tried to reassure her when he had sensed that she was spooked.
And now the difficult part was behind her and the lovemaking was bound to get better with time.
Much as she hoped that was true, it wasn’t the most pressing concern to occupy her mind.
Rory’s proposal had felt like a life preserver thrown to a drowning woman, and Geneva was buoyed by his affection and commitment to her, but as she neared the house her optimism began to ebb, and she acknowledged that her relief was nothing more than a temporary reprieve from the inevitable.
For one, there was the estate, and her father would be heartbroken if she was to walk away from the home and land her family had cherished for generations.
For another, there was Honor, and the staff, who would look to her for confirmation that everything would continue as before once Douglas passed.
Geneva could hardly leave it to some unknown relation to look after them properly.
And then there were the differences in her and Rory’s stations and their faiths.
They hadn’t come up against any real obstacles yet, but that was because they had kept their budding romance secret and had never had to settle on a compromise.
Rory went to Mass, and Geneva attended St. Michael’s with her family, and had done since she was christened there as an infant.
Rory was Catholic, and he might want his children to be raised in his faith.
And if her children were to be brought up in the Catholic Church, Geneva would have no choice but to convert, a prospect she didn’t relish.
But it wouldn’t do to have a divided family, in which she might one day become an outsider and possibly even the enemy.
And who would even marry them? A Catholic priest would not perform the ceremony if Geneva wasn’t indoctrinated into the faith, and the vicar of St. Michael’s wouldn’t be too keen to marry her to a Papist. Conversion seemed like the logical solution, but was she prepared to make such a commitment and live as a Catholic in a country that was predominantly Protestant?
And would Rory even wish to stay? He might want to go back to Ireland so they could be closer to his family. Was she ready to promise him that?
Geneva supposed if she loved the man, she’d have to accept his background and faith, but if she were honest, the question of religion felt weightier than the question of love or the prospect of lifelong commitment.
Was that a sign that she had doubts? Did Rory?
Did he assume she would do whatever was necessary to make their marriage work?
Would he? They had never spoken of these things.
Until tonight, they had never discussed marriage, or even their immediate future.
They’d stepped out a couple of times in recent weeks and had avoided focusing on their differences, instead giving in to their mutual attraction, and allowing it to carry them on a wave of emotion.
But now the wave was about to crash against the rocks, and they would either be broken apart or find a way to float.
Geneva came to a sudden stop as another realization dawned on her.
Rory had offered to marry her, but, although he’d told her she was beautiful, he’d spoken no words of love.
What if he had his own reasons for offering her a future?
Geneva resumed walking, her steps slow and ponderous, the brief surge of hope firmly replaced by fear and doubt.
The only thing she knew for certain as she crossed the darkened foyer and started up the stairs to her room was that nothing would ever be the same. For any of them.