"Ah, but I wish to accompany you, Lady Hope," Sir Godfrey said, rising to his feet decisively and holding out a hand to help her.

Rutherford's lips twitched. It seemed entirely possible that there would be two family betrothals to celebrate that evening. If Godfrey could but convince Hope that he really wished to address himself to her and not to Jess, that was.


Lord Rutherford would probably have enjoyed listening to the conversation between his sister and his friend as they walked the two miles to the snow-covered hills to the south, surrounded by running and yelling children, two nurses and a governess, and two gardeners pulling along behind them a string of wooden sleds.

After various comments on the weather and the personalities of the children and young people around them, Lady Hope steered the conversation determinedly to Jessica. Sir Godfrey followed her lead with some amusement for a few minutes before drawing her to a halt and turning to face her.

"Lady Hope," he said, "may we put an end to this topic by agreeing that Miss Moore is indeed a beautiful and accomplished young lady who will make some fortunate man a good wife?"

She looked somewhat taken aback. "I beg your pardon, sir," she said. "I did not realize that I had embarrassed or offended you by talking about her."

"You have done neither, I assure you," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "But much as I esteem the young lady, I must admit to some boredom at finding her so frequently the topic of conversation between you and me."

"Oh," she said.

"Why do you not tell me about Lady Hope?" he asked, patting her hand on his arm and beginning to stroll onward again. "Have you finally recovered from your sad loss, my dear? And are you now ready to continue with the rest of your life?"

"Do you speak of Bevin?" she asked. "But that was long in the past, sir, and we were never officially betrothed, you know. I daresay Papa would not have easily given his consent, anyway. The matter was of no great significance."

"On the contrary, my dear," he said, "the passing of Lieutenant Harris has been very much the most significant event in your life. I have wondered many times if you would ever recover from it. You loved him very dearly, did you not?"

Her eyes looked suspiciously bright as she darted a glance and her nervous smile up at him. "Yes," she said. "Foolish, is it not, for a spinster of my age to have ever felt such emotion?"

"It is not foolish at all," he said gently. "I have found myself several times over the past several years almost envying the late lieutenant. And is not that foolish?"

For once Lady Hope seemed lost for words. She looked up at him, incomprehension in her face.

"I have waited for years," he said, "and am prepared to wait for as many more if I must. But I do feel the natural human need for hope, you know." He grinned. "And the pun was intentional. Rather clever, don't you think?"

She was still staring up at him. They had stopped walking again.

"Is there a chance, my dear," he asked, smiling almost apologetically down at her, "that if I remain patiently your friend for long enough, one day you will find yourself able to feel enough affection for me to put your safekeeping in my hands? I will never expect you to stop cherishing Lieutenant Harris in your memories."

"You have a tendre for Miss Moore," she said.

He shook his head.

"She is young and beautiful," she protested. "She would make you an admirable wife, Sir Godfrey. What would you want with an old spinster like me?"

He smiled. "I could answer that," he said, "but I would not wish to embarrass you, my dear. I have been your faithful admirer for years, Lady Hope. My life will be complete if the day ever dawns on which I may call you my wife."

Her eyes widened. "Me?" she said foolishly. "Me, sir? Your wife?"

He nodded.

"And I have always thought you so wonderful that I must find you an equally wonderful wife," she said.

He laughed and took both her hands in his. "That has been the only tiresome part of my association with you," he said, "though amusing too, I must admit. You have been making a particularly vicious siege on my heart with Miss Moore, though, have you not?"

"Oh, Miss Moore!" she said, pulling one hand away from his and covering her mouth with it. "She will be so disappointed."

"How flattering to think so," he said with a grin. "But it is not so, you know. Have you not noticed, my dear, that it is Charles and Miss Moore?"

"Charles?" she said, her eyes blank. "And Miss Moore?"

He nodded. "Is there any chance for me, my dear?" he asked.

She swallowed quite visibly. "I am two and thirty," she said.

"Are you?" he said. "I am relieved to say that I can still say the same. In two weeks' time I will have to add one number to the total."

"It may be too late for me to give you heirs," she said, her cheeks reddening to a deeper color than could be attributed to the cold.

"If I had to choose between a girl who would give me ten children and you with none, there would be no choice at all," he said. "It is you I love, my dear.

Besides, I see no reason for its being too late. And I believe that motherhood is an experience you really should have if you possibly can. You are wonderful with children."

"Everyone will laugh," she said, "at a woman of my age marrying and talking of having children."

"I believe everyone in your family will laugh with great delight," he said. "At least, I hope they will be delighted at your choice of me. I hope they will think me worthy. And we can keep secret our plan to have children, if you so choose."

"Aunt Hope. Aunt Hope." They were both suddenly distracted by the row of children standing at the bottom of the distant hill, all chanting in unison.

Lady Hope beamed at them and waved her hand vigorously. "Coming, children," she called.

But Sir Godfrey caught at her hands again before she could move. "Is the answer yes?" he asked. "Or is there at least a chance that if I wait longer…?"

Her hands suddenly squeezed his with quite unladylike force. "I am so glad we are going sledding," she said. "I would not know else how to contain my emotions, sir. Of course, I will marry you if you are quite, quite sure that you really wish to marry me. I have always envied the young lady who would eventually capture your heart. And you need not fear that I will still harbor a love for Bevin. I did love him dearly, and of course I shall always treasure his memory. But a dead love cannot sustain one through life, sir. It has been a full year or perhaps more since my heart has felt empty again. And I have been afraid to put you there in his place, for really I never did dream that you would ever wish to be there."

"For the rest of my life, if you please, Hope, my dear," he said, "as you will surely be in mine." He brushed the backs of his fingers lightly across her cheek and smiled down at her.

"Aunt Hope. Aunt Hope. Aunt Hope." The chanting became unrelenting.

"Coming!" she called back, beaming ahead of her and reaching for Sir Godfrey's arm. "They will not be content for us to merely push them from the top, you know. We will have to ride. And we must fall off at least once, preferably in the part where the snow is thickest. They will be most disappointed if we fail to do so."

Sir Godfrey smiled fondly down at her beaming face. "What a very kind lady I am going to have as a wife," he said. And then into her ear as they drew closer to the children, who were dragging the sleds uphill, having seen that she was coming at last, "I love you."

"Oh," she said, looking up at him with sparkling, excited eyes before gathering her fur-lined cape in her hands and hastening up the hill in the wake of the children.


Jessica had hoped that she would not have to venture downstairs at all during the morning. Her grandfather was tired after all the traveling he had done before Christmas and after the excitement of the day before. She had persuaded him to keep to his rooms until luncheon. What was more natural in the world than for her to stay with him?

For the rest of the day she hoped to be able to stay very near him or the dowager duchess or Lady Hope or anyone safe. She must not, whatever she did, put herself in the position where Lord Rutherford could have a private word with her. She found it difficult to believe that he really did intend renewing his offer for her. Yet her grandfather said it was true. But she was not going to give the earl a chance to do any such thing, she had decided.

Yet even before luncheon it was impossible for Jessica to put her resolve into effect. Her grandfather wished to know if a certain book was kept in the duke's library. Nothing else would do. Jessica suggested the titles of several books she had in her room, but quite in vain. She must go downstairs and see if that one volume was there.

How could she say no? she thought in some despair as she crept stealthily down the staircase, first past the floor on which most of the living apartments were situated and on down to the hall and the library. Even though she was convinced that Grandpapa would be asleep again before she returned to his room, she could not have denied his request.

She drew a sigh of relief as a footman opened the door into the library for her and she discovered that it was empty. And although the door to the morning room had been open and a hum of voices coming from inside, she did not believe that she had been spotted. If she could just find the book quickly and be as fortunate on her way back upstairs!