We are women, and they measure us by the pristine condition of our dresses and reputation, not our bravery. Trust me, upholding troop morale will be easier for you when I’m gone.”
She left her friends in stunned silence and walked right out of the Randolph Hotel into the cold of a drab morning. She pushed on across St. Giles to the arched wing doors of St. John’s, where she had one thing left to do.
* * *
Jenkins was ensconced behind his desk, elbow-deep in a stack of papers. His hair stuck up on the left side of his head, as if he had tried to forcibly tug one of his brilliant thoughts from the depths of his mind. The sight of organized chaos in his study was so heartbreakingly familiar that it took every ounce of her strength to not begin to cry.
“Miss Archer.” Jenkins took off his glasses and blinked. That, too, was a gesture she found saddeningly familiar.
“I did not realize I had called for your assistance today.”
“May I come in, Professor?”
“Please do.”
Only when she had taken her seat did he glance back at the now-closed door, frowning. “Where is that noisy chaperone of yours?”
“I’m afraid I have to resign from my assistant position,” she said.
Jenkins’s features sharpened, and she knew he had left Greek antiquity behind and was present. In as few words as possible, she told him about her circumstances, save the part about Sebastian.
“That is a conundrum,” Jenkins said when she had finished. “A foolish circus, but hard to rectify under the circumstances.”
She gave a nod, feeling a last spark of hope extinguish.
Jenkins put his glasses back on and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I can’t let you go. Your work is too good.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I shall miss my work here very much.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you wish to continue working as my assistant?”
“Yes.” She said it without hesitation. Oh, if only there were a way. The mere thought of slinking back to the bleakness of Chorleywood made her want to howl.
“And would you like to stay in Oxford?” Jenkins asked. “It could become quite unpleasant for you for a while.”
“It is my greatest wish to stay,” she said. “I just don’t have an option to do so.”
“You do,” Jenkins said. “You could marry me.”
Chapter 28
Marry me. Marry him? Marry Jenkins?
“I seem to have rendered you speechless,” Jenkins remarked. “I suppose the correct way of saying it is ‘Miss Archer, would you honor me with your hand in marriage?’” He tilted his head expectantly.
“This . . . comes as a bit of a surprise,” she said weakly.
“Does it really?” he asked, bemused. “The possibility must have crossed your mind at some point.”
Much as she cared for him, it hadn’t crossed her mind. He was of course a brilliant man, and an eligible bachelor, too, not too old and with nice teeth and a good set of shoulders. But normally, a courting phase preceded a proposal.
Then again, he had taken her to a concert. He bickered at her in old Latin twice a week and he fed her apples. Indeed, his proposal had probably been a perfectly foregone conclusion to any bystander. How had she not expected it?
“I have contemplated proposing to you for a while,” he said. “I want to take you on the excursion to the Peloponnese, and this would be the most expedient way of doing it.”
“Expedient,” she echoed.
He nodded. “Imagine the breach of propriety otherwise. And no chance in Hades would I take your Mrs. Forsyth along.”
“Professor . . .”
“Please,” he interjected, “hear me out. Miss, you are a rare find for a man like me. People are either intellectually capable or agreeable. They are hardly ever both. You are. You are the best assistant I’ve ever had. Furthermore, like myself, you don’t seem keen on children, when most women are. I’m aware my standards are unorthodox, which, I assure you, is the sole reason for my bachelorhood; I am otherwise perfectly capable of providing for a wife. And my name would shield you from this nonsense that is presently making life difficult for you; in fact, you could continue with your work as if nothing had happened.”
He looked at her now with an expression she had never seen on his face before. Hopeful.
She tried to imagine him as her husband, because she liked him and her future was hanging by a thread and both rash decisions and dithering could