Chapter 4

For the next several weeks, Sylvie continued her regular routine with the addition of visits to Kit's barn to check on the kittens. It was difficult to justify spending the time away when there was so much to be done, but Sylvie found herself looking forward to the visits, particularly since Kit went to the trouble of providing a quiet luncheon by the stream when the weather allowed, and in his own kitchen when the rain returned.

The kittens grew strong and healthy, including the little black runt, and they were great fun to play with, of course. But sitting with Kit, sometimes talking about their shared past, sometimes speculating about the future, was a somewhat unexpected delight.

Especially when he answered her impertinent questions.

"Why did you never marry Maddie Hayward?" she asked one day. "I always thought you would."

Kit was lying on his back, his plate empty beside him, gazing up at a rare blue sky. "She was my closest friend—she still is—but what we share isn't romantic. I did offer once, though."

"You did? When?"

When Kit didn't elaborate, Sylvie poked him in the shoulder. "You can't just say you once offered for Maddie and leave it at that. What happened? Or," she continued somewhat hastily, "is it too painful to speak of?"

Kit shook his head. "No pain at all, in fact. It was over two years ago now, and she despaired of ever finding a husband because everyone thought she was waiting for me to speak. I told her that if she wanted to marry me, I would be willing. That's all."

"But she wed your brother instead."

"Yes," he confirmed with a grin. "They hatched some plan together to free her from everyone's expectations, and ended up falling in love."

Sylvie sighed, her mouth curving into a dreamy smile. "How lovely. And you're truly not bothered?"

Kit rolled onto his side and met her gaze with another smile, this one softer. "Not at all. They are two of my favorite people in the world, and I'm glad they've found happiness together."

Sylvie opened her mouth to reply but caught Moses waddling toward them out of the corner of her eye. "I suppose we should get back to the house," she said instead, reaching for their plates and the stone bottle with the last of the lemonade.

Kit flopped onto his back once more and sighed heavily. "Yes, I suppose we should."

He helped her gather up their things and carry them to his kitchen, then walked beside her back to Broadstone Farm with Moses between them. Sylvie found herself wanting to reach out to Kit, to hold his hand or take his arm, but judged both actions too intimate for now.

Maybe in the future…

The Devereaux home was strangely silent when they entered with no sign of Grandmère, who was usually working in the kitchen at this time of the day. Sylvie exchanged a look with Kit and instinctively took a step closer to him.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I'm not sure. But something isn't right."

She crept through the house, Kit close behind her, and finally stumbled upon Grandmère standing in the sitting room with her face in her hands, Grandpère with his arms about her. Sylvie immediately turned to leave, but Grandpère motioned them to come into the room.

"This effects you both, too."

"What's happened?" Sylvie asked, grateful for the support Kit's presence lent.

Grandpère took in a breath and let it out slowly, releasing his wife. "There will be no crop this year."

The room began to spin, and Sylvie couldn't make it stop. "Nothing?"

Grandpère shook his head. "Not a single stalk of wheat. It's all rotted."

Sylvie rocked backward slightly, but was steadied by the warm pressure of a hand on her back. Her mind was spinning as fast as the room, and she closed her eyes to concentrate better. "I have some money from—"

Grandpère raised a hand to stop her. "We will make plans later. Right now, let us simply come to terms with it."

But for Sylvie, making plans and trying to solve the problem were what helped her come to terms with bad news. And, though not unexpected, this was still the worst news she'd ever been given.

"I'm going to take a walk," she said as Grandpère went back to consoling Grandmère.

"Would you like some company? Or would you rather be alone?"

Kit's voice was gruff but strong, and pierced her heart. "Company would be nice," she managed thickly. The last thing she wanted right now was to be alone.

They walked out through the kitchen and Sylvie automatically started toward the wheat field, but halted. She couldn't bear to look at the rotted plants wasting away in the soggy ground.

Kit came to the rescue. "Why don't we walk over to the stream?"

She nodded, numbness replacing the spinning feeling she'd experienced inside the house.

They walked without speaking, arms brushing from time to time with the rhythm of their steps, the singing songbirds and sun shining brightly overhead irritating Sylvie like a grain of sand in her eye. Why did the sun have to show itself today of all days? Didn't it realize her world was about to end?

The first fat tear rolled down her face, and was followed by another and another in short succession. She brushed them away but they were replaced by a sudden horde of others, flowing down her cheeks and splashing onto the bodice of her dress.

Kit took her hand and pulled her to a gentle stop, then pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms. Sylvie sunk into his embrace, circling her own arms around him and holding him tightly against her as she sobbed.

"What are we going to do?"

~*~

Late that night, after Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux had gone to bed, Kit sat beside Sylvie on the worn brown couch in the sitting room with only their clasped hands between them. The fire burned low, throwing off little light, but neither had bothered to light a candle or lamp to lessen the darkness.

Kit breathed slowly in, then let out the breath with as little sound as possible. He was grateful for the dark, truth be told—it gave him a measure of courage for what he was about to do.

"Sylvie," he said softly, hoping she couldn't hear the slight shaking in his voice. "I know you're worried about what will become of your home…"

She turned to face him, the outline of her nose and mouth visible in the dim light but her eyes were lost in shadow. "But you have an idea," she finished for him.

Was she smiling? Was she tense? He couldn't tell, but he plunged ahead. "Yes. I was thinking that if you and I were wed, all our problems would be solved."

She didn't reply immediately, but her fingers tensed around his. "How would our problems be solved?"

"Well, for one thing, I can pay the rent for Broadstone," he said, trying to infuse more confidence into his voice. "You and I could live here if your grandparents were amenable, and I could have some other repairs done on my house while the work continues on the roof."

She was nodding slowly, but didn't speak.

"Once the repairs on my house were completed, you and I could live there. You'd still be close to your grandparents and able to help out if they needed you, or us. But they would have their privacy and we would have ours."

She stilled, and replied quietly. "If you marry me, you are tied to me until one of us dies."

"Yes, I know that." He grinned, though she likely couldn't see it. "I am tied to you by friendship already. One more bond will not change things all that much."

Sylvie's hand slipped from his. "You don't think marriage would change our relationship?"

Kit started to speak but stopped, turning his hand palm up on the sofa. "Practically speaking, things would not be so different, no. Emotionally, though…" He paused. What exactly did he think would happen if Sylvie became his wife? "I would hope that marriage would add another dimension to our relationship."

She nodded again once, and Kit desperately wished he could see the expression on her face. Was she happy? Shocked? Insulted?

"You have property that you'll want to pass down," she finally said, her voice carefully even. "Do you anticipate having children?"

This question Kit was prepared for. "My property is not entailed, so I can leave it to whomever I wish."

"But do you want to have children?" Sylvie repeated slowly.

Well, perhaps he wasn't as prepared as he thought. "I always expected to, but no one has ever asked me what I wanted. Do you want to have children?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "If my health and our family finances could support such a notion, I think I'd like to have a large family."

"Oh." The word fell from his mouth before he could think of a better response, but he really didn't know what else to say. Sylvie would make a wonderful mother, certainly, and being a father would be an adventure to look forward to. But he'd have to bed Sylvie to get her with child.

They hadn't even kissed yet.

What would it be like with Sylvie? Would it be a chore, like it was for some of his friends and their wives? Would it be awkward because they had known each other as children? Or could it be pleasurable, even fun?

"You haven't really thought this through, have you?" she asked, disrupting his thoughts. "Is this what happened when you asked Maddie, too? Do you just go around asking women to marry you to help them out of a difficult situation?"

Kit bristled a bit at that. "Perhaps I didn't give it the consideration it was due, but I did not make this offer lightly. I think you and I could make a good life together, and our marriage would solve several problems for both of us."

"But those things you listed—you paying rent on the farm, living here while your house is repaired, moving back into your house when it's ready but still being available to help out here—those can all happen even if we never see the inside of a church together."

"Oh." Apparently that was going to be his standard response to everything she told him now.

She turned toward him, lacing her fingers together as she slung one elbow over the back of the sofa. "Did that truly never occur to you? Or did you simply want me to be your wife and the circumstances made it convenient to ask?"

She sounded curious now, and Kit was rather curious himself. "Honestly?"

"Please."

"I believe it was some of both." He longed to take her hand again, to stroke her hair, to have her in his arms, but instead he settled his hands on his knees. "I miss the friendship that we used to have, and if we were wed we'd have the opportunity to spend more time together. I also want very much to help you and your family keep your home."

Sylvie placed her hand on his for a brief moment, then rose from the sofa. "I appreciate your candor, and your generosity toward my family, Kit, but I can't marry you. Not this way."

She lingered a moment longer then headed toward the staircase, leaving Kit alone in the dark with his thoughts.

~*~

Sylvie closed the door to her bedchamber with a sigh that was half fatigue and half bewilderment. The fire that she'd laid earlier in the evening burned cheerily in the fireplace, casting long, flickering shadows over everything in the room.

Kit had asked her to marry him.

Kit had asked her to marry him!

He said he meant it, and that it wasn't only a convenient way to solve their financial problems. But Kit's circle of acquaintances included several rungs of society that Sylvie, the granddaughter of glorified tenant farmers, could never aspire to. Perhaps he expected to have a more formal alliance with his wife, where they would come together for procreation and light conversation, and live their separate lives the rest of the time.

But Sylvie wanted her husband to be her partner, her lover, not just a man she was legally bound to.

She leaned back against the door and sighed again, this time with the tiniest bit of disappointment. It was unlikely Kit could be that man to her, though a part of her wanted to explore the idea. What would it be like to have their half-opened flower of a friendship blossom into a strong, devoted partnership? To know that he loved her and held her best interests in his heart, and that she reciprocated those feelings?

To know what it was like to be kissed by Kit, touched and caressed, to lie with him in the bed they shared…

She shook herself mentally and pushed away from the door. She was not going to marry Kit, to gamble her future on a fantasy coming true, so none of those things mattered.

What mattered was figuring out how to pay the rent this quarter for the farm.