‘I don’t know what I’m thinking. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Well, do you like him?’

‘Yes, but—’

Maggie was gentler. ‘He is quite a bit older than you, I know, but that means he’s matured. He obviously thinks the world of you or he wouldn’t be paying you so much attention.’

Marion looked sad. ‘But now he hasn’t rung up for two days.’

‘He’ll try again.’ Maggie laughed. ‘And when he does, you’ll agree to see him.’

‘But what if he actually proposes?’

‘Could you love him?’

This was an awkward question. ‘I have sometimes thought I loved him, but … If I love him, why was I so scared?’

Her mother tutted. ‘Marion, you are ready to marry. You’re at the perfect age and he is a lovely man. Do you respect him, trust him?’

‘I do.’

‘Good. The rest will follow. Say yes and make him happy.’

‘But what about my work? I don’t want to leave the Duchess or the girls.’

Maggie patted her arm. ‘You don’t now, but when you are married, with your own home and children, you will feel very differently.’

She didn’t think she would. Not unless … unless she could stay in London and do her job, even after she was married. Governesses and teachers gave up their careers as a rule when they married, but Marion’s situation was surely unique. How could she just leave the York household? They needed her and, in a way she couldn’t put into words, she needed them.

Perhaps George would come to London? That would be the perfect solution. But could he leave Scotland? He didn’t have family that she knew of, so there wasn’t anyone standing in his way, but she knew he liked his work with Chris.

She shook herself.

No. He’d stopped ringing her because she had behaved like a fool on Sunday, and she would probably never hear from him again. Indeed, she would be too horribly embarrassed to ever see him again.

She was worrying without need. The moment had passed and she could carry on with her job unchallenged. It was a narrow escape if ever there was one.

The next day was Sunday, and her parents were out at church when the telephone in the hall rang. She was almost too afraid to answer it. If it was George, what would she say? If he asked her again, she wanted to say yes – but only if he would come to London with her.

She steeled herself, and picked up the receiver. ‘Hello.’

‘Marion? It’s me. George.’

She felt her legs weaken and she sank onto the bottom stair.

He was anxious. ‘Marion? Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I am fine, George.’ Her voice sounded tinny.

‘I have been expecting you to never want to speak to me again,’ he said quickly. ‘I am so sorry about last Sunday. It came out all wrong. Would you please accept my apology?’

Marion felt far from comfortable with this. She had no idea how to deal with personal situations. And what did it mean, that he was apologizing? That he hadn’t meant it, that he hadn’t been able to propose after all?