It was almost absurd for me to worry that he wanted to marry me only for my investigative abilities. If anything, he’d tried to discourage them. And the fact that he was willing to listen to me, to even allow me to assist, said far more in his favor than the opposite. I would have been furious if he’d shut me out merely because I was a woman.
It seemed foolish now that I had turned him down. In any case, what was the alternative? To let Gage go? To never see him again? To one day hear news of his marriage to another lady, perhaps one who would never understand him as I did? I couldn’t expect him to hang about and allow me to assist him with his inquiries after I’d turned down his offer of marriage. And someday soon he would wed, for his own happiness and to produce an heir, while I lived in a cottage near Edinburgh and painted portraits. I would be safe from the machinations of another husband, but I would also be alone. Forever. For if not Gage, I knew I would never trust my heart to anyone again.
The thought of never seeing him again, of never hearing his voice or being held in his arms, of imagining him with another woman, left a hollow ache inside me I wasn’t certain I would ever be able to fill, for as long as I lived.
When looked at in such a stark light, was there really any other decision to make? I could take a leap of faith and accept Gage’s proposal. Perhaps my fears would come true. He would grow tired of my eccentricities, my awkwardness, and stop loving me. But perhaps my worries were unfounded. Maybe we would be happy, solving inquiries and raising a family together while I painted portraits of our children, even if I never accepted commissions again.
I inhaled past the tightness in my chest and felt a smile curl the sides of my mouth upward, higher and higher, until I was practically beaming with joy.
Then I remembered what a hash I’d made of things. I would need to apologize and explain my reaction to his proposal. I only hoped Gage would listen, and had not already decided I was no longer worthy of his regard.
I stroked Earl Grey’s fur one more time for good luck and then hurried up to my bedchamber. My eyes strayed to Gage’s door on the opposite side of the hall, but I decided I needed to bathe first. I knew without a doubt that I looked and smelled a fright, and if I was to have any chance of wooing Gage back, it certainly would be best to do so primped, perfumed, and dressed in proper attire.
It was time to begin readying myself for the Burns Night Ball that evening anyway, so I rang for Bree and ordered a bath drawn. I knew the perceptive girl could sense my nervousness, but she also recognized my excitement, and that was what she chose to foster.
I bathed in water scented with rose petals, scouring the paint and raw chemicals from my skin, and then I sat before the fire to let my hair dry while I devoured a bowl of cock-a-leekie soup sent up from the kitchens. I realized I hadn’t eaten since luncheon the day before, and only then because my brother had made me. Feeling more myself, I sat before my vanity and asked Bree to arrange my hair in an artfully braided coronet—completely out of fashion, but much more to my style and liking. I even allowed her to dab a bit of rouge on my pale cheeks.
Then I donned my clan Rutherford attire—a full royal blue skirt with a Rutherford tartan overskirt that split in the front and a long-sleeved white blouse covered by a black-laced bodice. Over one shoulder we draped another length of the royal blue tartan with thick stripes of black and thin stripes of red running through it and fastened it with a brooch.
I’d worried that with my recent weight loss the ensemble would be far from flattering on my figure, but unknown to me, Bree had taken in the skirt, and the bodice laced tight enough up the front to hide the bagginess of the blouse and even provide me with some cleavage. I couldn’t help but wonder if Gage would be brave enough to don the kilt Trevor had loaned him, or if he would insist on wearing his usual dark evening kilt. I knew few Englishmen who were not stodgy enough to join in such a custom, but Gage just might be one of them. Either way, it was time to find out.
I heard the large clock in the entrance hall chime the hour, and inhaled deeply, trying to calm my rampaging heart. Bree smiled at me in the mirror as she fastened the clasp of my amethyst pendant around my neck and wished me well. And then there was nothing left for me to do but go.