Free His Impassioned Proposal (The Bridgethorpe Brides) by Aileen Fish Page A

it comes back to me that I am alone there.”
    “Perhaps a trip to London would be good for you, then. Or are there friends you might visit in the country?”
    “Yes, I’ve written a few schoolmates. I’ve been filling my time with rereading the books which weren’t damaged in the fire, and toying with ideas for rebuilding the wing.”
    “Oh, how lovely.” If he was thinking of adding to his house, perhaps he intended to marry soon. She couldn’t ask, however, without seeming more interested than she was. And she wasn’t certain whether the news made her happy or not. Why couldn’t she let him go?
    Laughter rang from the parlor, and Stephen released her arm. “I am not up to as much joviality as the other guests are, so I will let you return without me. It was good to speak with you, dear Jane.”
    Her left side felt suddenly cool without his nearness. She fought off a shiver and hugged herself. “I enjoyed seeing you, too.” She slipped away before she could say anything more.
    A cold fist of melancholy clenched her heart, but she forced a smile lest anyone notice. She missed the days when they were young and carefree. She missed the days when she could believe herself in love, and believe that love would see them through anything life put upon them.
    She missed Stephen’s smile. The genuine one that lit his face and added a lilt to his voice, not the polite one he offered easily enough lately. She wondered if she might ever see that smile again. And she wished she might be the cause of it, one day.
    With the words of the old rhyme about wishes and horses running through her head, Jane spotted Hannah across the room and made her way through the guests.

    Stephen watched Jane disappear into the large room and ducked into an anteroom before he could be spotted. He’d come to the party with good intentions, but failed to find the enjoyment he hoped for. Mother would chide him for being morose, and for following society restrictions on mourning periods. She would want him to live, foremost, to move forward with his life.
    In some small ways, he had been moving forward. He planned to visit the mills he owned once the weather was better up north. Although Mr. Sprackle had retired as steward when Stephen’s father sold off most of his land, the man was still very willing to discuss crop rotation and planting times when Stephen had enquired.
    As he mentioned to Jane, he’d also been sketching some rough plans for a new wing. He needed to hire an architect soon, if he decided to go ahead with his idea. He could have construction begin in the spring. Part of him said to wait until some young lady had agreed to become his wife. He tried to argue that his floor plan didn’t suit Jane alone. Many young ladies would be pleased with what he conceived of for that one special room.
    But his heart knew it was Jane whom he hoped would be making that room her own.
    Bridgethorpe Manor was not so old and large as to have priest holes and minstrel galleries, or hidden rooms through which Stephen could watch the festivities, so he eventually made his way into the parlor. He skirted the room, smiling when his gaze landed on someone watching him, until he reached the chairs near the back where Knightwick and David sat, along with two of their older male cousins.
    The younger Lumleys were being given a chance to perform before the gathering. Biblical recitations were followed by singing and piano-playing, and nine-year-old Lucy-Anne performed on the violin. Their level of competence wasn’t what struck Stephen. The looks on their parents’ faces hit him hard. The love, pride, and sheer joy in their eyes made their entire countenances glow.
    He imagined what that must feel like from within. A twinge of jealousy hit him, knocking him completely off-guard. Even Bridgethorpe, who found joy in nothing of late, beamed when his progeny had their turns. Was this what having children did to one? Filled one with such utter happiness and