offer." There was not a shadow of doubt in her. "We shall be the envy of everyone in London for the blessings of our lives together. I know he will make me a perfect husband, and I shall do everything I can think of to please him and make him proud of me. I wish that never in all the years we shall live together should he even for an hour regret that he chose me." She looked at him with wide, soft eyes filled with hope and trust.
Suddenly, like a hand clenching inside him, he understood Melville's fear. It was unbearable to think of being responsible for so much in the life of another human being, one who sees you not as the fallible, sometimes serf-conscious, sometimes weary and frightened creature that you are, just as frail as they, but as some kind of cross between a genius and a saint, whose every thought bears examination and whose every act will be both wise and kind. One could never relax, never admit to weakness or doubt, never simply lose one's temper or confess terror, failure or despair. What intolerable loneliness! And yet a loneliness without privacy.
Was she aware of the intimate facts of life? Looking at her bright innocence, and knowing a little of the tragic lives of some of his clients, he thought very possibly not. And even if she was, could any man live up to her expectations?
His own skin broke out in a prickle of sweat as he placed himself in Melville's situation for a moment. Now he understood only too sharply why the young architect could not bear it. With Delphine Lambert engineering everything, her clever, prying eyes seeing every fleeting expression of her daughter's face, nothing he said or did would go unknown. He could not ever fail in decent privacy.
And it had been arrogant of Rathbone to imagine he could not have found himself in the same position. He was at least twelve or fifteen years older than Melville, if not more. And yet he had been neatly enough maneuvered by Mrs. Ballinger.
"I imagine you will be very happy, Miss Lambert," he said awkwardly. "I certainly hope you will. But..."
She looked at him without the slightest comprehension. "But what, Sir Oliver? Can you doubt my good fortune? You would not, if you knew Killian, I promise you."
What could he possibly say to be even barely honest? What should he say to her? Melville had asked Rathbone to defend him in court, should the need arise, not to conduct any negotiations to break the engagement. He might change his mind. It might simply be the sort of nervousness many people experience before marriage.
"But nothing, Miss Lambert," he said, shaking his head. "Perhaps I merely envy you. I wish you every joy. Good evening." And before he could find himself any further embroiled, he took his leave and made his way towards Lady Hardesty.
The following day Rathbone sent Melville a message saying that on further consideration he had changed his mind, and if Melville should, after all, find himself sued for breach of promise, Rathbone would be willing to represent him. Although he feared it would be a most difficult case, and his change was not based upon any alteration in his belief that the chances of success were very small. Still, he would do his best.
Chapter 2
While the thought of her had crossed Rathbone's mind during Lady Hardesty's ball, Hester Latterly herself was sitting quietly in the room she had been given for her accommodation during her stay in the elegant house at the northwest corner of Tavistock Square. It was the house of Lieutenant Gabriel Sheldon and his new young wife, Perdita. Lieutenant Sheldon had served honorably in the army in India. He had survived the hideous Mutiny, the siege of Cawnpore, and been one of the few survivors of that atrocity. He had remained in India afterwards, only to fall victim to appalling injuries just over two years later, in the winter of 1859-60. He had lost an arm, been severely disfigured, and at first was not expected to live.
By January his partial recovery was deemed sufficient for him to be shipped home to England and invalided out of the service. However, he was far from well enough to manage without skilled nursing, and the damage done to the skin and flesh of his face was such that it required a particular sensitivity, as well as medical knowledge of and experience