Roslyn sighed, remaining quiet for a long moment. Her sister was stubborn, a trait they shared, and she could not say with one breath that she loved and respected Zelda and in the other completely ignore her sister's wishes.

"If," she offered, her words coming out in slow and reluctant, but steady, progress, "you cannot imagine any situation in which Mr. Darrow might prompt you to regret choosing him in a year, a decade, a century from now, then I suppose I must trust you—at least for the length of dinner."