“As brothers. Goodness, if you’re going to take that view of it, you might as well marry George.”

Billie stopped short. “Don’t be daft.”

She, marry George? It was ludicrous.

“Honestly, Mary,” she said with a stern little hiss to her voice. “That’s not even something to joke about.”

“You said that one Rokesby brother would be as good as another.”

“No, you said that. I said either Edward or Andrew would do.” Really, she did not understand why Mary was so upset. Marriage to either brother would have the same effect. Billie would become a Rokesby, and she and Mary would be sisters in truth. Billie thought it sounded rather lovely.

Mary clapped her hand to her forehead and groaned. “You are so unromantic.”

“I don’t necessarily see that as a flaw.”

“No,” Mary grumbled, “you wouldn’t.”

She’d meant it as criticism, but Billie just laughed. “Some of us need to view the world with practicality and sense.”

“But not at the price of your happiness.”

For the longest moment, Billie said nothing. She felt her head tipping slightly to the side, her eyes narrowing with thought as she watched Mary’s face. Mary wanted what was best for her; she understood that. But Mary didn’t know. How could she know?

“Who are you,” Billie asked softly, “to decide what constitutes another person’s happiness?” She made sure to keep her words gentle, her tone without edge. She did not want Mary to feel attacked by the question; she did not mean the question as such. But she did want Mary to think about this, to stop for one moment and try to understand that despite their deep friendship, they were fundamentally different people.

Mary looked up with stricken eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” Billie assured her. Mary had always longed for love and marriage. She’d pined for Felix since the moment she’d first met him—at the age of twelve! When Billie was twelve all she’d been concerned about was the litter of puppies in the barn and whether she could climb the old oak tree faster than Andrew.

Truth be told, she was still concerned about this. It would be a massive blow if he could make it to the top branch before she could. Not that they’d be conducting a test anytime soon, what with his arm and her ankle. But still, these things were important.

Not that Mary would ever see them as such.

“I’m sorry,” Mary said, but her smile was a little too tight. “I’ve no call to be so grave when I’ve only just arrived.”

Billie almost asked her if that meant she had plans for later in the visit. But she didn’t.

Such restraint. When had she developed such maturity?

“Why are you smiling?” Mary asked.

“What? I’m not smiling.”

“Oh, you are.”

And because Mary was her best friend, even when she was trying to tell her how to live her life, Billie laughed and linked their arms back together. “If you must know,” she said, “I was congratulating myself on not making a smart comment at you.”