“I wonder why you did not hesitate to let us in, why you did not send us away.”
“Do you?” He held her gaze, but his expression was unreadable. “Surely you know I could deny you nothing.”
Dorothea did not know what to say.
He cleared his throat. “I am not the sort of man to make pretty speeches. I have always been straightforward with you, and I would ask the same in return.”
She managed a nod. “Of course.”
“You are too good to trifle with me. While I deserve nothing but your continued enmity—”
“That is not so,” said Dorothea. “Where would I have gone that night if not for you? What would I have done?”
“It is only because you knew that you could come here that I speak of this at all. Your knock on the door, the trust you placed in me that night, gave me hope that perhaps you have forgiven me. Perhaps your opinion of me has changed.”
“It has changed,” said Dorothea fervently. “My opinion has changed—utterly.”
His eyes, large and boyish without his glasses, were full of such affection and longing that she found herself unable to do anything but warm herself in his gaze.
Then she knelt on the floor beside him, brushed the hair from his forehead, and took his hand.
“I would not dream of discouraging such hopes,” she said, and pressed his hand to her cheek.
Table of Contents
Cover
Colophon
Also by Jennifer Chiaverini
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven