Still, he mighttryusing that expression Markham had perfected—the one that enchanted everyone he met.
Try…and be met with astonished derision. His frown remained. He was what he was—imperious and dammed.
“Our little town has many unique assets,” the rector said. “And one couldn’t ask for a better guide than our Lady Katherine.”
OurLady Katherine? With renewed interest, Bromton turned. “Have you been with the parish long?”
“Not long.” The rector’s eyes twinkled. “I merely officiated the last earl’s marriage, and christened all three of his children. Lady Katherine could not be dearer, if she were my own daughter.”
A disturbing thought danced at the edge of Bromton’s memory. Hadn’t Markham said something about Katherine’s first betrothed having been the son of the rector and the nephew of an earl? Bromton slid a hand beneath the lapel of his coat, wrapping his fingers against his ribs.
But for a twist of fate, could this man have been father-in-law to Katherine, and Katherine a happily wedded matron…forever beyond his reach? His disquiet grew into the shocking sense he had narrowly missed disaster.
“…such a dear, our Lady Katherine.” Miss Watson joined the conversation. “So kind. Always ready to lend a hand.”
“Yes,” Mr. Chandler added, “she is a jewel.”
Everyone but Katherine turned an expectant gaze to him.
He cleared his throat. “Making Lady Katherine’s acquaintance has been,” he hesitated, “of great significance.”
Katherine’s eyes flew to his. His chest constricted, and his heart raced. Oddly enough,thisdiscomfit belonged, not to him, but to Katherine. He acted on instinct to turn attention away.
He held his arm out to the spinster. “Miss Watson, may I escort you in?”
Markham then took Julia’s arm, Katherine, the rector’s, but not before Bromton caught Katherine’s grateful glance.
In a not-so-discreet whisper, Miss Watson asked, “Is there reason to anticipate?”
He glanced askance. “To hope, Miss Watson. To hope.”Hope.Perhaps the only word that could encompass the mass of fear, expectation, and agitation swirling in his gut.
Whispers rushed through the congregation as they entered. One fed another, and then another, punctuated by sharp inhales and an occasional sigh. Katherine had warned him his presence would arouse speculation. She hadn’t exaggerated.
They took their seats, and the service began. Nothing about the chapel’s brownish stone walls and timbered roof should have caused foreboding, but as the hymns droned on, the walls encroached and the ceiling inched down.
Perhaps such sensations preceded one’s skin bursting into flame.
Yes, he was wooing a lady of the congregation under false pretense, but Katherine would have compensation adequate to her sacrifice. A husband. A title. An indisputable position as mistress of Bromton. And the thing she’d value most—connections to ease Julia’s way.
Not enough.
He suppressed the thought, but it bounced back in the form of the accusations she had hurled since he arrived.
She’d accused him of not believing in love. She’d called him a brute. She’d said she was sure he was after something.
Guilty on all counts.
What was love, anyway? An ephemeral notion constructed by poets and storytellers. He had never actuallyseensuch folly up close. And if, in his near three decades, he hadn’t seen romantic love—or any love for that matter—why should he believe it existed?
Marriage was simply a transaction. And if the balance favored him, he was not entirely to blame. Still only a completely unfeeling brute would take her from this place of warmth and give her mere cold status in return.
Brute he may be but, unfortunately, he was no longer unfeeling. Not when it came to Katherine.
He angled his body and crossed his legs, intending to focus on what remained of the sermon. However, motion caught his eye. Julia’s lips moved without sound. He stretched in order to follow her gaze. Everyone in the congregation faced the rector but a young man toward the back. The young man’s lips moved in answer—behind the posting stable.
Bromton sat forward and adjusted his cravat.
Nothing good came of an assignation behind a posting stable.
