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though his eyes burned with raw emotion. “The past doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. What’s important is whether you’re willing to let us love you now?”
    She shook her head. It was no use. “I don’t even know what that entails. You both understand what you want, but I don’t know what that is, or even if I’m capable of giving it.”
    “You are.”
    “It’s a risk. What if you’re wrong?”
    “I’m not.” He tried to tug her closer. “Please, Viola.”
    “Forget it, Will. She’s given her answer.”
    “No she hasn’t. Not truly.” He grasped both of her hands and held them within his. “Tell me what reassurance I can offer. Anything?”
    She shook her head. She didn’t know. “I fear I’ll only disappoint you. I don’t want to trap you.” She knew only too well how that felt. “I don’t know if there’s room in my heart.”
    “There is. There’s room in every person’s heart for more than one lover. It’s only convention that says we must restrict ourselves. I know you’re hesitant, Viola, and your reasons are admirable, but please, don’t dismiss us yet. Get to know us.”
    “In one night?” That’s all she had. “How?”
    “Come to us,” Percy said abruptly. “If you want to know how it will be, then let us show you.”
    “Percy,” William snapped in warning. “Remember you’re talking to a lady.”
    Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m only saying what you’d like to, and I dare say you’ve whispered a vulgar thought or two into her ear already as you danced.”
    William cast him a wounded look. “Might I remind you that we’re guests here?”
    Unrepentant, Percy folded his arms across his chest. “We’re in the blue room, in the north wing,” he told her, ignoring William’s huff of outrage. “By two o’clock things should be quiet. If you want us, if you have any affection for us or desire for this match, then come to us and let us open your eyes as to how it will be. I don’t believe we’ll disappoint.”
    “I can’t…”
    Percy pressed his hands together as if in prayer and tapped them against his lips. “So be it.” He shrugged, then bowed stiffly and turned on his heels. Viola watched his retreating back.
    “I’m sorry,” William apologised, squeezing her hands again before he released his grip upon them. “I’m afraid he longed for this too much, and I built up his hopes.” He peeped awkwardly at her, with his brows drawn low. “I ought to go after him. Please forgive him for causing offence. He shouldn’t have said such things.”
    He nodded to her. Then captured her hand once more and raised her knuckles to meet his lips, bidding her goodbye in the way he’d originally greeted her. “And Viola, never do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” Then he too left her.

Chapter Seven
     
    “Are you decided, Viola?”
    Aunt Clara still sat by the fireside when she returned to the old nursery. “You’re back a little earlier than I anticipated.”
    “Sir Hutsby-Mede!” Viola protested, needing an outlet for all the mixed emotions she was feeling. “I can’t believe you would allow father to marry me to that man.”
    Her aunt stopped knitting in order to look at her. “Whatever are you blabbering about, girl? It’s not Sir Hutsby-Mede your father has in mind for you. Not unless something radical has happened between luncheon and this moment.”
    “It isn’t? But Tom prompted him to ask me to dance.”
    “Your brother takes great delight in stirring trouble. Come and sit down, and tell me what has happened. I sense something else is troubling you besides Thomas’ mischief.”
    Viola drew close to the fire, after the heat of the crowded salon, the nursery wing seemed particularly cold and dreary. “If it’s not Hideous Hutsby, then who is it?”
    Her aunt smiled, “Gracious, you must be able to guess. The man’s admired you since you were small.”
    Viola shook her head. Since she was small. What man had even known