Page 49 of The Wallflower Takes All
“Both responses seem reasonable.”
She looked at him then, which was a mistake. Evening dress should have made him appear more formal, more distant, easier to treat as the solicitor he insisted upon being. Instead, candlelight had found the gold in his hair and the severity in his face and turned both into something troubling.
“Lord Rillington seems pleasant,” he said.
“He is.”
“And attentive.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Poppy tilted her head. “You make approval sound like a sentence being handed down.”
“I admit I am out of practice with approval.”
“Clearly.”
His mouth softened by a fraction. “Do you like him?”
It was a useful question, the sort a sensible woman could answer without hesitation. Instead, she found herself saying, “He is kind. Or kind enough. He laughs when I mean to be amusing, which is more than many men manage.”
Mr. Ashby’s brows drew together. “That is a low standard.”
“It is the standard available to me.”
His face changed.
Poppy wished she had phrased that differently. Or perhaps she did not. Perhaps she wanted him to hear the small, humiliating truths instead of only the brave ones.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I had no right to speak as if this were easy.”
“No,” she replied. “You did not.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then his hand lifted as if he meant to touch her sleeve, perhaps to steady her, perhaps to stop her from stepping back. He caught himself before his fingers reached her. The arrested movement was so small no one else would have noticed.
Poppy noticed.
Mr. Ashby lowered his hand. “Any man who asks for your future should understand what it has cost you to offer it.”
Her throat tightened. “That is an inconveniently high standard.”
“It is the one you deserve.”
She had no answer for that.
Lord Rillington crossed the room toward them.
Mr. Ashby stepped back at once, every line of him returning to correctness. “Miss Montfort.”
“Mr. Ashby.”
Lord Rillington bowed. “Miss Montfort, may I have the honor?”
For one moment, she simply stared.
