At Your Request (Apart from the Crowd 0.5)(9)
The casual manner in which Edgar mentioned his need for a distraction didn’t fool Wilhelmina in the least. She’d hurt him by rejecting his offer of marriage, and now seemed to be the perfect time to make amends for the hurt she’d dealt him.
Reaching out, she oh-so-casually poked his upper arm, impressed when she felt the hardness underneath his shirt. “While it’s obvious you benefited quite notably from your stint in the steel mills, I do want you to know that I’m truly sorry for the pain I put you through when I refused to marry you.” She sighed. “It was not well done of me to have treated you in such a cavalier manner, and I have wanted to apologize to you for years.”
She caught his gaze. “I did ask your mother about you whenever our paths crossed, but . . . she refused to divulge your whereabouts, and truth be told, I believe she has yet to forgive me for rejecting your proposal.”
“Of course she hasn’t forgiven you, Wilhelmina. In her mind, you hurt the feelings of her adorable—and need I remind you, charming—son. Which is why she still takes to muttering less-than-pleasant mutters about you under her breath whenever I try to bring you into the conversation.”
Edgar gave a sad shake of his head. “She’s especially put out with you over the idea that you proclaimed—in front of witnesses, no less—that the very last thing you’d ever want in life was to be known as Wilhelmina Wanamaker for the rest of your days.”
Wilhelmina winced. “I completely forgot about that. Do know that I will apologize to your mother about that nasty business, if she ever condescends to speak to me again, that is.”
“As you should, since Mother always proclaimed that Wilhelmina Wanamaker had a very nice ring to it, a proclamation she’s certain you remembered, which has allowed her to believe you were insulting not only me the night of your debut, but her as well.”
“Oh . . . dear.”
“Oh dear, indeed,” Edgar agreed quite cheerfully.
Wilhelmina blew out a breath. “I do hope you know that I didn’t deliberately set out to hurt your feelings that particular night, or hurt the feelings of your mother by my careless words. I was simply taken by surprise when you dropped to one knee and proposed to me, in the middle of the ballroom. And because of that, I fear my response was not what anyone could consider kind.”
Edgar reached out and took her hand in his. “And that right there, my dear Wilhelmina, is one of the reasons I needed to speak with you. You seem to be under the misimpression that you wronged me the night of your debut, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I was the one in the wrong. For that, I am truly sorry, and I hope you’ll find it within your heart to accept that apology.”
“You returned to the city to apologize to me?” she asked. “I thought you mentioned something about marriage.”
“I can’t very well move forward with my life while I still have so many issues left unresolved with you.”
“So you are intending on getting married?”
Edgar frowned. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I certainly can’t make the claim that the thought of marriage hasn’t flashed to mind more and more often as time goes ticking on by at a remarkable faster and faster clip.”
Wilhelmina’s brows drew together. “And you have a specific lady in mind to do this settling down with?”
With his brows drawing together as well, Edgar took to considering her for a long moment, something interesting taking up residence in his eyes. “I would imagine that I do have a lady in mind, although . . . I’m not certain she returns my interest.” The look in his eyes intensified. “Tell me this, Wilhelmina. . . . Why do you sound so disgruntled by the idea of me settling down?”
Swallowing the denial that had been on the very tip of her tongue, Wilhelmina considered the question, realizing a mere second later that she was disgruntled. The reasoning behind that disgruntlement, curiously enough, seemed to revolve around the idea that the very thought of him marrying another woman set her teeth on edge.
Drawing in a sharp breath over that revelation, she then completely forgot all about releasing the breath when truth reared up and smacked her firmly over the head.
Edgar Wanamaker—no matter that she’d rejected him out of hand and hadn’t set eyes on him for years—was a gentleman she could easily picture herself growing old with, sharing children with, and . . . loving . . . forever.
That she hadn’t even realized any of that until this very moment, with him sitting right beside her no less, had her feeling distinctly light-headed, although that might have been because she’d been holding her breath and . . .
“On my word, Willie, you’ve taken to looking rather queasy—what with your face turning that somewhat disturbing shade of green. Are you all right?”
Having no idea how to respond to that since she was certainly not all right—especially since the world as she knew it had suddenly taken a turn for the concerning—Wilhelmina pulled her hand from Edgar’s and rose to her feet. “I’m afraid the heat in this conservatory has begun taking a toll on me, which means we really should return to the ball.”
Rising to his feet as well, Edgar took hold of her arm, pulled her directly over to a door that led to the back of the conservatory, pushed it open, and pulled her outside with him.
A blast of freezing air settled over her, followed by snow. Blinking flakes out of her lashes and feeling anything but overly warm, she lifted her head and caught his eye. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I said the heat had gotten to me.”