The Memory of Your Kiss by Wilma Counts

loosely around her. “Sydney, when this war is over—”
    “No,” she said sharply, then more softly, “no.” She pressed a finger against his lips. “It cannot be—ever.”
    Suddenly, it hit him. This whole three weeks made sense now—this need to live as though tomorrow did not exist. “You are promised to another.” It came out as a statement, not a question.
    She nodded.
    “Do you love him?—I’m sorry. I had no right to ask that.”
    She disentangled herself from his embrace and they continued to stroll along the pathway just as though the whole world had not turned topsy-turvy. He thought she intended to ignore the question.
    “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I care for him and I intend to make him a good wife. It is the least I can do.”
    “I—see. And I truly am sorry. It seems our timing has been woefully off.”
    “Rather.”
    He was proud of himself for having mustered such a casual tone as he suddenly realized the extent of his sense of loss. Until this momenthe had not realized how deeply he cared for her. And he knew full well that, given her character, she would not jilt the man to whom she had given her promise.
    For several minutes, they walked along in sad quietness, not looking at each other. Finally, he said, “I think I will not come to bid you good-bye in the morning.”
    “Perhaps that would be best.”
    He stopped and gripped her elbow to force her to look at him. “Sydney—I—” His voice caught. “I do wish you well.”
    Her eyes were watery. “I know,” she whispered. “And I, you.”
    All the way back to Windham village, Sydney only half listened to the conversations of her aunt and cousins who were accompanying her. Last night, she and Aunt Harriet had shared with Celia and Herbert the news of Sydney’s impending marriage.
    “Married?” Celia squeaked. “You are to be married and—and you have not mentioned it until now?”
    “Must have had her reasons,” Herbert said.
    Sydney explained the circumstances and Lord Paxton’s desire for a simple affair with a customary announcement after the fact.
    “But you did not see fit to tell us ?” Celia sounded hurt.
    “Aunt Harriet knew,” Sydney said. “And—and I thought it best to—to limit the number of people—”
    Herbert interrupted. “She knew you’d blab it all over town, Celia. And you know you would have. You never could keep a secret.”
    “I can too,” Celia said with a slight pout, but it was obvious that she recognized the truth of his accusation. “Besides, good news should be shared.”
    Sydney smiled; Herbert rolled his eyes; and Aunt Harriet said, “Never mind, Celia. You know now and you have to contain yourself only for this evening.”
    “Celia, I’d like you to be my bridesmaid,” Sydney said.
    “Really? Me?”
    “Really. You.”
    “Oh, I’d love it. But you must tell us all about him! An earl! Aren’t you the sly one? Faith Holmsley will be positively green with envy.”
    Herbert grinned at Celia. “And that, dear sister, is why you did not know earlier.”
    “Well, neither did you.”
    “But I’m not getting my feathers all ruffled over it.”
    “Nor am I.” Celia made a show of dismissing her brother by deliberately turning to Sydney. “Here I thought you and Lieutenant Quintin—but never mind. I want to know all about this secret romance. You must be so very much in love.”
    Sydney laughed at Celia’s dreamy tone. “Henry and I are both very practical people—it will be a good marriage.”
    She had fervently hoped this would be true as she dealt with the dozens of questions and comments her cousin threw at her.
    Now on the journey home, she replayed on her mind’s stage that scene in the park. She was absolutely sure that Zachary cared for her and she hugged that knowledge to herself. He was right: their timing was woefully off. She wished their circumstances were different. She wished she had met him six months earlier. She had wanted to lose herself in