First Season / Bride to Be by Jane Ashford

with a smile.
    Her heart beat faster. “Yes.” She didn’t feel able to tell him she felt tired and heavy-eyed.
    â€œShall we sit down?”
    â€œOh. Of course.” Moving to the sofa before the fireplace, she did so. Norbury sat close beside her.
    â€œI can think of nothing else, so I will come directly to the point,” he went on. His green eyes were very serious. “I believe you know what I wish to say to you. I have fallen in love with you and hope you will be my wife.”
    Anabel trembled a little. Though she had expected the question, still, to hear it was exciting. She looked up and met his steady gaze. The gossips had been eager to tell her of Norbury’s past flirtations; her own mother had made it clear that he was a man of wide experience and impervious heart. He had examined scores of debutantes with a jaundiced eye and sampled the charms of a series of stunning older women, but he had never offered his hand. Anabel was by no means unaware of her unique position. His proposal would cause a sensation. She would be envied and honored for her conquest. It was terribly flattering to be the choice of such a man. His wealth and position were nothing to it.
    And the man himself was an added inducement. As always in his presence, Anabel felt fascinated and attracted. Sir Charles radiated confidence. Something in the set of his head, the way he moved and looked at her, made her vibrate with an unidentifiable tension. The memory of his touch made her feel slightly faint. He overwhelmed her.
    â€œYou must say something, you know,” he said.
    The command made her look down again. What did she want? she wondered. She didn’t really know. Her wants had always been supplied to her almost before they were formulated. She had wanted what she had been expected to desire and accepted others’ giving of it. Her father, Ralph, Christopher, had seemed certain of what was right, and she had left matters to them. She was accustomed to that. Now, for the first time, she was being asked to choose for herself—and her choice did not have to be the safe one. Meeting Norbury’s eyes again, and feeling that quivering thrill, she slowly nodded. “Yes.”
    He smiled and took her hand, letting out his breath. “You made me quite uneasy for a moment. I didn’t realize how difficult it could be to wait for a word.” He kissed her hand. “I shall do my utmost to be an exemplary husband, Anabel. As I am sure you have been told, my record is not a good one. But that is past. Having met you, I am yours alone.”
    Anabel said nothing. She was feeling confused. Having made her decision, she ought to be happy, she thought, but she felt only relief that it was over and she need worry no longer.
    â€œWhy so silent?” he teased, putting his arm along the sofa back around her shoulders. “You have not even assured me you return my flattering sentiments, you know.”
    Gazing at him, Anabel could see that his light tone masked sincerity. He wanted her to say she loved him. She opened her mouth to do so—she must or she would not have accepted him—and stopped. It suddenly seemed to her that she didn’t know what the word meant. Or, more to the point, she didn’t know in this case. She loved her mother and had loved her father; she adored her children. But for her husband she had always felt a kind of warm, ironic affection different from both of these feelings and very different from those Sir Charles elicited. If she had loved Ralph…but had she? Perhaps not; perhaps what she felt now was really love—this trembling excitement and uncertainty. “I…I do.” She faltered, her voice sounding false in her own ears.
    Norbury did not seem to hear it. He smiled and drew her closer. “I had begun to fear that this moment would never come, that I would never find a woman with whom I could spend my life. You are very precious to me,