"I . . . I thought you might be embarrassed."

He blinked. “Me? Really?"

"Yes. You know — by your, sort of — you know. Declaration." I could feel my face burning up.

“Declaration?"

"You know." He wasn't going to help me out at all. "In Newlyn."

His eyes widened in pseudo astonishment. "Oh, that declaration. That little outburst of frivolity and nonsense. Lord, no, I stand by every word of that."

I stared at him in surprise. His smile was ironic, though.

"You do?" I said uncertainly, knowing at any moment he could wrong-foot me.

"Jeepers, yes. You make a declaration, you stand by it. Where would America be if Jefferson hadn't stood by his?"

"Well . .”

"Or your own excellent little island, even. If William the Conqueror hadn't nailed his colors to the mast, then stuck to them?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. "Are you laughing at me?"

“Yes. Absolutely yes. You see, the thing is, Flora, I think you're the one who's embarrassed. I think you're the one who hasn't allowed herself to think through what I've said, and work out what your feelings are. So you decided you'd just grab your portrait and scuttle off home. Dodge the whole issue. Hide away in your garret. But I've caught you, so you kind of have to give it some thought, otherwise — geez, where does that leave me? Squashed? Rejected? Spurned?"

"You've never been any of those things, Tommy Rochester."

His mocking eyes changed abruptly. For the first time ever, I saw real hurt there. His chin went up. “Don't make me do it again. That would be harsh."

He did mean it. And he'd meant it at the time in Newlyn. I'd known that, too, and he was right, I'd shielded myself. It hadn't been hard, a great deal had happened since then, but now I allowed myself to believe it. To believe that this funny, handsome, confident, clever, wise-cracking, kind incredibly kind — man, who could surely have any woman he wanted, could actually be in love with me. Had been in love with me, for a long time.