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Show Page 26 "Forgive me," I told him. "'Twill not be me." And there it ended. Yet I feared I may have caused Richard Kean grievous hurt to his pride, though he showed it not. (Perhaps that was his soldier's training.) And perhaps I, too, was a bubbleheaded wench for saying him nay, but I felt a maid's future husband should arouse something in her breast beside discomfiture. It may have been a whimsey I would outgrow, but, in truth, I hoped to think the man my friend and to find as much comfort in his company as Aunt Mary did in Edward's. (Oh how could I ever tell him she was dead?) I reassured myself I had done the proper thing. Aunt Mary had cautioned me not to marry in haste. But many maids aboard would have been overjoyed by an offer to wed Richard Kean, Anne being only one of them. I went in search of my friend to tell her I had received my first offer of marriage. She would think me daft for refusing Richard. Perhaps the thought that he was in great want of a wife would ease her distress. Once he got to know Anne, I was certain Richard's opinion of her would change. It would be a fine thing if he could be made to laugh and be jolly. Anne with her gay ways would be the one to evoke such a change. In truth, I had never seen Richard smile. I wondered if he had all his teeth. ******************** |