Ned’s eyes, a warm, dark brown, meet her own. It is the first time he’s looked at her directly since their luncheon began. They are kind eyes; in that, at least, Ned is completely unlike his father.

“Miss Darling, I should like to be honest with you.” Ned lifts his chin. She sees the moment he wants to look away, but does not. Even so, the way he stands tells her he would much rather slouch, curl his shoulders inward as though to slip beneath notice, not just hers, but that of the world.

“It seems neither of us is to be given much choice in the matter of our nuptials. My father is rather eager for me to be married, quickly, and I fear that as your brother’s employer, and with your own health difficulties, he settled on you as a suitable match, feeling that you would be… pliable, lacking in other prospects.”

Ned coughs, a short, embarrassed sound, the color in his cheeks even higher. Wendy can only stare at him, at a loss for what to say in the face of his candor.

“Given that neither of us chose this situation for ourselves, I am content to be your husband in name only, if that is your wish. I will ask nothing of you, however I do hope that we might at least be friends.”

Earnestness shines in his eyes. There is a fragility there too, and even though they have only just met, she thinks that an answer in the negative might crush him. She has had so few friends in her lifetime, and she senses that in that regard, she and Ned may be the same.

“I…” Wendy opens her mouth, dazed by Ned’s vulnerability, dazed by his offer.

She has no idea what to think of the man in front of her, and that alone is enough to intrigue her. There is a gentleness to him, setting him apart from his father, setting him apart from Peter, her first real friend. She glances briefly to Michael. He assured her she would like Ned; perhaps this is what he meant.

“I shall endeavor to be honest with you as well.” Wendy smooths the front of her skirt, gathering herself and burying her nerves in the folds of the fabric. “I have not had many friends in my life. I am not the easiest person to be friends with, in fact, but if you are willing to try, then I am as well.”

The words feel reckless, dangerous, but in the instant, Wendy means them. It’s like the first time she flew, holding Peter’s hand, the way they stepped from the window and fell into the night. Only they didn’t fall. They soared.