A Certain Magic by Mary Balogh Page B

love for her when she was fifteen before he had thought to confide his own. He and Web had been like brothers. He had found himself unwilling to risk their friendship by competing for the same girl.
    Perhaps it was the knowledge that she was beyond him that had made his love of her such a lasting, painful thing. Her wedding day had been one of the most agonizing days of his life.
    He had continued to love her for several years—she was the reason he had married Harriet so precipitately and the reason he had been torn with such guilt on Harriet’s death—even though he knew that he could never have won her. Web would have won that contest if there had been one. For Web had been steady and kindly and a gentleman in every sense of the word. He had been worthy of Allie, if anyone could possibly be so.
    His own love had been sublimated into friendship. There was no point in blighting one’s whole life, he had persuaded himself eventually with unaccustomed good sense, over a woman who was as far beyond him as the sun and the moon.
    She was his dearest friend now. No more than that. But if he let himself think too deeply, he could still dream of finding someone like her, but someone he was worthy of, someone who could share his life with him as Allie has shared hers with Web.
    That was the other side of the coin. It was not worth turning the coin over to see. If he was to marry and have children, then he must choose a bride soon without being foolish enough to dream that perhaps at the age of six-and-thirty he would find that one woman who would suddenly be the meaning of his whole life.
    He was jolted back to reality and to a realization of his ill-mannered silence by the sight of Miss Borden fumbling in a pocket and bringing out a small lace-edged handkerchief. She sniffed. Good Lord, she was crying!
    “What is it?” he asked gently, taking the handkerchief from her hand and wiping away her tears. The others, he noticed with a quick glance, were out of sight. Where was Allie when he most needed her?
    “It is nothing,” she said, her voice vibrating on a sob. “It is nothing at all.”
    Had he drawn her into his arms or had she come there? But there she was, sobbing on his chest. He held her close, patting his hand soothingly against her back.
    “Oh, forgive me,” she said eventually. “Pray forgive me.” 
    “But what is it?’’ he asked, lowering his head to hers. “Is it something I have said or done?”
    “N-no,” she said. “Oh, nothing, sir. It is just the rhododendrons.”
    “The rhododendrons?” he said.
    “They remind me so of home,” she said. “Of the country. And I fear I will never be back in the country again. Mama and Uncle want to find me a husband, and I fear he will be a man who will live always in London. And I do not think I could bear it. Though I cannot disappoint Mama and Uncle.”
    Oh, Lord. Mr. Westhaven looked hopefully down the path again, willing Alice to appear. This needed a woman’s touch. The path was empty.
    “But you will have choices,” he said. “You are a very pretty young lady, and you must have noticed the interest various gentlemen have shown in you already. I am sure your mother will not try to force you to marry one particular gentleman. She will want your happiness.”
    “But Uncle wishes to choose my husband,” she said. “And he has lived all his life in town. Oh, what am I to do?”
    “Dry your eyes and blow your nose for a start,” he said. “ I shall take you back to the carriages then, shall I? You will have time to compose yourself before the others return. And why do you not tell your mama just what you have told me? Surely she will understand.”
    “Yes,” she said. “I am so sorry, sir. I am so very sorry. I feel quite humiliated to have shown my feelings thus. I wish we had not come this way.”
    “So do I,” he said, “if it distresses you so. Come now, smile at me. All will turn out well for you, you will see. Are you to be at the Hendon