He could feel the evening careening away from him. Things often did. Careen, that was. Fall away. There was an opportunity that was right now tumbling away over the side of the terrace into the darkened gardens below them, and he was standing here at the banister watching it happen.
Miss Delaney was slipping out of his grasp now, and the very worst part of it was that he could almost see it in her face. She wasn’t pleased with the situation, with her father, with his lack of acknowledgement; she said she would be sorry as well, but who was to know how little or how much she meant by it?
She explained a little further, and each new statement struck up a little hope. But, Evander cautioned himself, perhaps she was only telling him all this because she considered him a friend to her, after all this time, all the times they’d seen each other and all the letters they’d sent. They had been able to be candid with each other from time to time. Still, he could not help but think she seemed somehow put out by him, as though there was something more he had done wrong, personally. Miss Delaney had always been so - engaging. He was not quite sure what he would do without her company, at parties like this, if she did become attached to another man.
And now she was doing that thing - giving him that look - that Evander had never quite been able to comprehend, only that the flutter of her eyelashes was very good at scattering his thoughts. This did not much help the deliberation process. “I see,” he murmured, though he still wasn’t sure what to do about it. If he did or said nothing, any chance he had with Miss Delaney - if he had any - would be crushed altogether, he was certain of that.
So. He only hoped he hadn’t misread every bit of eyelash-batting. For all he knew, she might have bad allergies. “And might your father - might you -” Evander said carefully, struggling to form this sentence, “still be willing to consider - another offer of courtship, if it came?”
Miss Delaney was slipping out of his grasp now, and the very worst part of it was that he could almost see it in her face. She wasn’t pleased with the situation, with her father, with his lack of acknowledgement; she said she would be sorry as well, but who was to know how little or how much she meant by it?
She explained a little further, and each new statement struck up a little hope. But, Evander cautioned himself, perhaps she was only telling him all this because she considered him a friend to her, after all this time, all the times they’d seen each other and all the letters they’d sent. They had been able to be candid with each other from time to time. Still, he could not help but think she seemed somehow put out by him, as though there was something more he had done wrong, personally. Miss Delaney had always been so - engaging. He was not quite sure what he would do without her company, at parties like this, if she did become attached to another man.
And now she was doing that thing - giving him that look - that Evander had never quite been able to comprehend, only that the flutter of her eyelashes was very good at scattering his thoughts. This did not much help the deliberation process. “I see,” he murmured, though he still wasn’t sure what to do about it. If he did or said nothing, any chance he had with Miss Delaney - if he had any - would be crushed altogether, he was certain of that.
So. He only hoped he hadn’t misread every bit of eyelash-batting. For all he knew, she might have bad allergies. “And might your father - might you -” Evander said carefully, struggling to form this sentence, “still be willing to consider - another offer of courtship, if it came?”
