He asked me why I’d turned him down, and as soon as I began to explain, the words seemed to simply pour out of me. I told him about the portrait, how that had seemed to be the catalyst for Gage’s proposal, and how it had confused me. I complained about how there was so much I didn’t know about him, and how stubborn he was about sharing details of his life. But then somehow I ended up defending his secretiveness, being able to relate to it myself. I confided my worries over our future happiness, and how I feared Gage would swiftly realize he’d made a mistake when he saw how incompatible we were, particularly in a public setting. And I even told him how I feared he only wanted to marry me because of my usefulness in investigations, not for me alone. How I feared no one would want me for me alone.
Sometime in the midst of my long speech, Trevor shifted to my other side to lean back against the old oak tree with his arms crossed. He listened attentively, his focus never wavering, and when my words ran out along with my breath, I waited for him to speak.
His head tilted to the side and his eyes were kind. “Did you ever stop to consider you might be thinking too hard about this?”
My chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. “What do you mean? This is serious.” I gestured with my hands. “Marriage is serious. After what happened with Sir Anthony . . .”
“But Gage isn’t Sir Anthony.”
“I know that,” I snapped, remembering that Gage had argued the same thing.
“But you’re acting as if he is. As if the same thing is going to happen between you and Gage as happened between you and Sir Anthony.”
I paused, considering his words. “But how do I know that it won’t?” I murmured softly.
Trevor stepped forward to take my hands, staring down into my troubled face. “I want you to forget Sir Anthony for a moment, if you can, and tell me something.” His eyebrows rose in emphasis. “Do you trust Gage?”
I stared up at him, uncertain how to answer.
Sensing my doubt, he elaborated. “If you were in danger, do you trust that he would rescue you if he could? Would he defend you from accusations? Would you willingly confide in him all you’ve told me about Sir Anthony and what he’s done to you?”
“Yes,” I replied relatively easily.
He leaned closer, his eyes warm with affection. “Is he the first thing you think of in the morning and the last thing you think of at night? Would you race to his side if he were ever sick or injured?” His lips quirked upward at the corners. “Would you shield him from our sister’s wrath?”
“Yes,” I whispered, beginning to see his point.
“It’s obvious to anyone who sees you together that you love him. And that portrait fairly gives it away as well.”
I flushed.
“I can understand how that would give him the courage to ask you when he saw it. But I think what really struck him upon seeing the portrait was all the traits you imbued him with.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
He smiled softly. “I’ve only known him a short time, but I can already tell Gage is used to being underestimated. Just a charming, attractive man to pass the time with. But you see the nobility in him—the bravery and honor and determination. And if I were still a betting man, I would wager that is what so affected him. Knowing that you love him not only for the man he shows most of the world, but also for the man he is deep down inside.”
I was stunned. Was Trevor right? Was that why Gage had proposed? I felt queasy knowing I’d turned him down after that. And in such a panicked and muddled way.
I frowned. But once again we came back to the question of how Gage felt about me. Just because I loved him—and yes, much as I’d been denying it, I knew it was futile now not to admit the truth, especially if Trevor had seen it—didn’t mean Gage loved me. And if he didn’t, I knew I would never be happy. I might have been willing to marry Sir Anthony knowing there was no love between us and hope it would grow in time, but I knew better now. If Gage didn’t truly love me, then a union between us would never work.
Trevor clucked his tongue, shaking his head as if he could read my thoughts. “If you can’t see that that man loves you, then you truly must be addled, for it’s as plain to see as the nose on your face. How can you doubt it? Where are your formidable observation skills?”
I scowled at him and he grinned brightly.
Pulling my arm through his, he led me away from our parents’ graves. We wound our way back through the gravestones toward the gate. I welcomed the warmth of the sun’s rays as they pierced through a cloud bank.
“You have a decision to make,” Trevor declared as he latched the gate behind us.
“I know,” I admitted, my thoughts still on Gage and whether I should trust that what my brother said was true. Was I being willfully blind? Was I so afraid of making a mistake that I couldn’t see the truth right in front of me?