“Do you like Bath, Miss Brown?”
“I have never been.”
“Would you like to visit?”
“I can’t say that I have given the matter much thought.” Oh, the muscles in her shoulders ached from holding her body so tense, so rigid. “Besides, the Erstwhiles have been kind to me and need my assistance in the shop.”
“Forgive me if this upsets you, but they will not be around forever. What will you do then? You owe it to yourself to plan for the future. A man as wise as Mr Erstwhile would expect nothing less.”
Oh, Mr Hungerford had a way about him that made it impossible to contradict his opinion. Had she underestimated this affable, somewhat timid man?
“I deal with matters as and when they arise. Mr Erstwhile says that when one always looks to the future one misses the real beauty of life.” Thank goodness for Mr Erstwhile’s discerning gems.
“There is that I suppose.” His tone revealed a reluctance to concede.
They walked a minute in silence. When they came upon Brandersons coffeehouse, it was clear from the queue at the door that any attempt to wait for a seat was futile. A raucous din burst from the packed premises whenever anyone opened the door. A lady would struggle to hear her internal voice let alone an expected proposal.
“It seems you were correct, Miss Brown.” Mr Hungerford did not seem too disappointed. He waved his cane at a point further along the street. “Let us walk for a few minutes more. There is another place we might try.”
A knot formed in Estelle’s stomach. Were it not for the Erstwhiles admiration of this man, she would have insisted they return to Whitecombe Street.
And so, against the nagging feeling in her chest, she continued to walk beside him.
To distract her mind, she started a conversation about the weather. The sun had set bringing a chill to the air made sharper by the sudden breeze. She mentioned the descending fog though he seemed unperturbed by the dangers it presented for those wandering the streets. For one so concerned with his health, he cared not that the odd spots of rain might lead to a downpour. Nor that the distant growl overhead threatened far worse. Indeed, at the first opportunity, he directed the conversation back to discovering more about her background.
“Do I recall you saying you had a brother, Miss Brown?”
She paused and swallowed down her reluctance to reply. “We are estranged and have been so for some time.”
He appeared pleased by this snippet of information. “Either way, you strike me as a woman who does not need to ask for her brother’s approval.” He removed his pocket watch, squinted at the white face and then slipped it back into his waistcoat. “You know your own mind, and I admire that.”
“Not all men think as you do,” she said, hoping to steer the topic away from marriage.
“I’m a man who values his wife’s opinion as much as his own.”
Was that because he lacked the courage to make decisions? she wondered.
“If I have gained anything from my association with Mr Erstwhile,” he continued, “it is that marriage works best when it is a partnership.”
Marriage worked best when two people were in love.
A few fat droplets of rain landed on her sleeve. Mr Hungerford suddenly stopped near the narrow alley leading from St Martins to Castle Street. He drew her closer to the entrance, despite the yellow fog obscuring their vision.
“Would it be a terrible inconvenience if I escorted you home and accepted your generous offer of supper?” Mr Hungerford glanced behind him. “The weather is closing in, and it was foolish of me to insist we keep walking.”
Estelle suppressed a groan at the thought of spending a few more hours in his company. “Is it not a little late now? Mrs Erstwhile is ill, and I imagine they are settled for the evening. Perhaps we should hail a hackney cab and rearrange our outing some other time.”
Mr Hungerford failed to hide his disappointment, tuts accompanied his muttered mumblings. “Oh, I have made a dreadful mess of everything.”
“You cannot blame yourself for the sudden turn in the weather.”
He removed his hat and turned to her. “Miss Brown, I know this is not the ideal place to speak so intimately, but I must tell you that I admire you greatly. Know that my intentions are honest and I fear I cannot delay. I wonder whether you might consider the possibility of becoming my wife.” He released a lengthy exhale.
Estelle groaned inwardly. It was destined to be an uncomfortable journey home once she’d refused him. She braced herself in preparation to give the only response her conscience could allow.
A strange shuffling from somewhere in the alley forced her to glance back over her shoulder, and yet she could see nothing behind but a blanket of fog. The hairs on her nape prickled to attention which she imagined had something to do with the awkward situation.
“Mr Hungerford, I am truly flattered—”