The expression on her face must have satisfied Basil, for he softened his tone. “If you love him, will you accept his marriage proposal then?”
Her fingers clenched on the gown she held. “I never thought I would marry,” she murmured hoarsely.
A week ago she had been afraid to give herself to Heath in marriage, afraid to make the irrevocable commitment that would bind her to him for life.
“Not all men are brutes like your father was,” Basil said quietly.
Lily lifted her head, searching his sympathetic eyes. Basil understood her greatest fears. He had been the one to keep her company when she hid out in the stables during her parents’ battles, or rode hell for leather across the countryside in an effort to forget. He had been the one to console her when she’d threatened to kill her own father for his brutality toward her mother.
“I know that,” Lily said shakily.
“Claybourne is not like O’Rourke, either, even if he does know how to use his fists.”
That was also true. Heath was no brute. He was a strong man who used his might carefully and wisely, and only when necessary.
And sometimes violence was necessary, Lily thought, remembering the satisfaction she’d felt yesterday when she’d felled O’Rourke to prevent him from taking Fanny. She would have liked to do the same to her father all those years ago when he was beating her mother…
“So what are you worried about?” Basil asked. “Claybourne isn’t the kind of man to hurt women, and you know it.”
She did indeed know it, Lily admitted. Heath would never physically hurt her. Heath, who had been so tender and passionate with her. So protective, so generous.
But what about emotionally? What if she married him? He would own her completely then, heart and soul and body.
Basil, however, still was fixed on the physical threat a husband might present. “You can damn well hold your own with any man, Lily, you know very well.” His half-hearted smile was self-deprecating. “Unlike me. You are no weakling.”
Lily tore herself from her own reflections in order to protest. “Basil, you are certainly no weakling. Claybourne has had years of training in swordsmanship and fisticuffs.”
Basil nodded reluctantly. “I know. He fences at Angelo’s salle and strips with Gentleman Jackson.”
“Yes. And you have not had the luxury of a nobleman’s life of leisure, as he has. Besides, you ride nearly as well as he does, and your mind is every bit as sharp.”
Basil looked rather pleased by her observation. “So is yours, Lily. You are a match for him in so many ways.”
Lily looked away. “I am not denying that.”
“Then what is stopping you from wedding him? He would make a good husband for you.”
She couldn’t deny that, either.
“Are you afraid he doesn’t return your sentiments?”
Lily swallowed. “Yes, I am afraid. Heath said he loved me, but what if he doesn’t truly mean it? Even ardent declarations of love from a man can prove false. Have you forgotten Arabella’s first fickle suitor, Viscount Underwood?”
“Claybourne is nothing like that sorry weasel,” Basil said dismissively. “And I doubt he would say he loved you if he didn’t mean it.” Basil paused. “Do you want him to love you, Lily?”
“More than anything,” she said softly.
She had told herself she only wanted Heath’s passion, but she wanted his love. So much that it hurt. Lily felt a stab of longing so fierce that she pressed her hand to her stomach to ease the pain.
At her silence, Basil shrugged and rose to his f
eet. “Well, Lily, only you can conquer your fears. You have to decide if the risk of marrying Claybourne is worth the gain.”
He left her to her tumultuous thoughts then. Alone in her bedchamber once more, Lily found herself staring blindly out the window.
Could she summon the courage to trust Heath that completely?
On the other hand, did she truly have any choice? Even if being married to him might lead to pain, being without him would be infinitely worse.