Also, I think I may be in love with you, which is very inconvenient.
She sat back, staring.
Ink was honest when one stopped trying to control it.
Her heartbeat thudded.She could not send this.She could notnotsend it.She considered setting fire to the entire desk.
A soft knock made her jump.
"Esme?"came Genny's muffled voice."Plotting alone?Let me in."
Esme hastily folded the letter, blotting any wetness, and shoved it beneath a stack of old fashion plates.
"Come in," she called, hoping her voice sounded normal.
Genny slipped in, wrapped in a robe, hair tumbling loose.She eyed the desk.
"Letters at this hour?"she asked."To whom?Watford?Eloping to a stationery shop?"
Esme's laugh wobbled."Nothing so dramatic.Merely...practicing my penmanship."
Genny's brows rose."Now I know you are lying.Your penmanship is already legible."She perched on the bed."Nerves about tomorrow?"
"A little," Esme admitted.
Genny swung her feet idly."Haverleigh always puts on an excellent show.Pippa will ensure there is more gossip than music, Christopher will ensure there is more wine than sense, and if Redford doesn't appear, I shall personally drag him from his club by the cravat."
Esme swallowed."Do you think he will come?"
"I know he will," Genny said."I wrote to him."
Esme stared."Genny!"
"What?"Genny said defensively."Someone had to.You were busy pretending to be fine.He was busy pretending to be a chaise lounge.It was intolerable."
"You had no right?—"
"I have every right," Genny said calmly."I am your friend—his too, unfortunately.If you both insist on being cowards, I shall simply have to be brave enough for three."
Esme pressed her hands to her face."What did you say?"
"That you were being stupid," Genny said."That he was being stupider.That if he does not attend Haverleigh and speak honestly, I will teach Lady Honoria a limerick about him."
Despite herself, Esme laughed."You are a menace."
"Yes," Genny said cheerfully."That is what Redford will say as well, I expect.But he will come."Her expression softened."What happens after that is up to you."
Up to her.
Esme thought of all the times in the past weeks when she had let others decide her course, when she had chosen silence because it seemed less troublesome than truth.
"I do not know what I shall say," she admitted.
"Start with what you want," Genny suggested."You are very good at telling the world what it ought to be.Try telling one man what you wantfromit."
Esme's throat tightened."I want..."
To be seen.To be chosen not because she was sensible, but because she was her.To laugh without looking over her shoulder.To stand beside someone and know that if she fell, they would simply hold on.