“He answers honestly as well,” Bromton rejoined. “I haven’t the benefit of experience, Lady Katherine. Does having once known love preclude the chance of a second occurrence?”
Had the marquess conceded a longing to know love? She assessed him.
No.
She doubted Lord Bromton believed in the existence of love. But he did expect her to melt like a heartsick fool at the mere mention of the word.
He was, after all, just like the others. Worse, in a way. Because she wanted him to be different.
You cannot be trusted. Your very nature is weak.
Septimus. Again.
She blinked, her watery gaze casting out for the solace of the view.
“I loved a man destined for the church,” she said. “Tonnishgentlemen are entirely different creatures.”
“How so?” he asked.
“Tonnishgentlemen,” she said, “acquire wives for the same reason ladies acquire hats.”
“Oh?” He suppressed what could have been a laugh.
She slanted him a glance. “I am far from jesting, my lord.”
“Well, then.” He lifted his brows. “Enlighten me. I haven’t the faintest idea why ladies acquire hats.”
“Because.” She held his gaze. “We believe possession of a pretty-something will somehow enrich our person.”
His eyes went dark.
“The illusion,” she continued with a quickened heartbeat, “always crumbles.”
“You are very sure of a great deal, Lady Katherine.”
At this moment, she was sure of very little. And if she spent another moment in the marquess’s presence, she’d be sure of nothing at all.
“Am I wrong?” she asked, voice shaking.
“I’ve been told,” he replied, “that marriage improves character.”
“Do I look like a hat? Or a person whose character needs improvement?”
“Few hats are as fascinating. And I certainly don’t believe I could improve anyone’s character. Although,” he softened his voice, “I begin to wonder if you could improve mine.”
“I haven’t the slightest desire to improve anyone,” she said.
He leaned forward andtsked. “How uncharitable.”
She stiffened. “Why did you come?”
“Markham invited me.”
“And your aim?”
His gaze fixed on her mouth. “I believe I’ve made that clear.”
Her throat dried, so she wet her lips. “Marquess,” she said, “did you just admit to making a conquest of me?”
