That wasbeforeshe turned her gaze on him.
At first, her gaze held shock, then bewilderment, then, strangely, her eyes pled. Ribbons of her want tangled with his, looping into messy knots they’d never be able to untie.
So be it. He was nothing she needed, but, for what it was worth, he vowed to give her everything he had.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, then she closed it again. With a feigned bravery that cleaved his chest, she wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks.
“Allow me escort you home.” It was not a question.
She squinted off into the distance. “I should decline…”
“But you will not,” he finished, gentling his tone.
Her expression shuttered, unreadable, carefully cloaked. Strange things, women. For all his bluster, he did not quite understand them. But he did not have to understand to know exactly how he needed to respond. He’d make himself worthy, shave off his edges, and polish away the splinters life had left behind. A bad man could become a good husband—whatever good husband meant—right? He desperately wished to believe.
“Company,” she said softly, “would be welcome.”
Company. General. Not specifically his. She placed her hand on his arm, and he pulled her fingers tight against his side. With a heart full of trepidation, he swung open the cemetery gate, already knowing what he would find. He dreaded the very scene he’d worked so hard to create.
“Oh! Hello, Lady Katherine.” The little boy whose story he’d prepared looked up at Katherine, genuine adoration in his youthful expression.
Bromton knew exactly how he felt.
“Hello again, Tommy,” she said.
“I was hoping you would be here.” His lashes swept down over his eyes, and he twisted his clasped hands. “I forgot to thank you for the primer pages.”
“You are very welcome,” she replied, touching his face. The white kid leather made a sharp contrast to the boy’s wind-burnt cheeks. “You are clever and bright, Tommy. I was happy to copy the pages for you.”
The boy beamed.
On cue, the door to the church opened, and Ian Linton emerged, holding a shawl. His gaze moved back and forth among Bromton, Katherine, and the boy.
Everything was going exactly as Bromton had planned.
“Good day, Mr. Linton.” Katherine’s voice had grown considerably cooler.
“Lady Katherine.” The boy bowed. “My lord.” Another bow. “I—I—” Ian glanced back toward the lane.
“Yes, Mr. Linton?” Katherine prompted.
“My brother and me…” Tommy halted his explanation and began again, slower. “My brother andIcame back for mother’s shawl.”
“Lady Katherine,” Ian’s gaze flicked to Bromton with an incriminating flush, “would…would you be so kind as to take an apology to his lordship?”
“Lord Markham?” Katherine raised her brows. “Do you owe him an apology?”
“It was,” Ian’s eyes flit back and forth between Bromton and Katherine, “ill-judged of me to speak with Lady Julia without you or his lordship present.”
Katherine rescued her gaping jaw. “Indeed,” she said, not without kindness.
“Please…please give Lord Markham my assurance it will not happen again.” Ian sent a speaking look in Bromton’s direction.
An actor, the boy was not. Bromton nodded as subtly as he could.
“Thank you, Mr. Linton.” She folded her hands. “I will deliver your message.”
“Let’s go, Tommy.” With Tommy in reluctant tow, Ian started down the path.
