Her mother would think so. Most women would think so. It would be the safe solution, the conventionally acceptable one, undoubtedly an attractive one, but that was not enough. “I know you can’t understand. I struggle to explain it myself, but it would be the wrong choice for me, Donald. I cannot marry you.”

“Would your answer have been different had your father’s letter not arrived this morning? No, don’t answer that. I don’t want you to marry me because I’m your best option. I want you to marry me because . . .” He shook his head despondently. “Oh, what’s the use? I won’t beg. May I ask what you plan to do now that you are no longer obliged to remain here?”

It came to her then that she had to remove herself far from temptation for both their sakes. She had to make her decision irrevocable. “I’m considering going to America.”

“America! What the devil! Why? Who do you know there?”

“Not a soul. That’s the whole point.”

“Can you honestly be thinking of embarking on a journey to the other side of the world to a country you know nothing about in order to be, what—anonymous?”

“No-one will be able to tell me what to do and when. They won’t make their minds up about me before they meet me. I won’t be stifled by expectations.”

“You have no idea what such a drastic upheaval would entail. The practicalities of it for one thing. Where would you stay? Dear God, Margaret, what you are suggesting is terrifying. If you must travel, why not go to the Continent and take the Grand Tour like everyone else?”

“It’s not far enough away from you, from my family, from the world I know and which thinks it knows me. I know it won’t be easy, I know that I might fail spectacularly, but I will regret not having the courage of my convictions if I don’t try.”

“So you must go to America,” Donald said with a twisted smile. “A new world fit for a new Margaret, is that it?”

Finally, at this evidence of his understanding, a tear escaped her. She nodded. “Whatever that means. I’m so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as I am. I wish you all the luck in the world. You will need it.” He stooped to pick up his hat. “If you will excuse me, I will ride back alone.”

“Donald . . .”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again. I’m not prepared to settle for second best either.” He pulled her to him, hugging her tightly, briefly, then let her go. “Goodbye, Margaret.”