“Goodbye, Lady Katherine,” Tommy said over his shoulder.
“Remember to practice,” Katherine called.
She stared after them, falling silent long enough for Bromton to hope she’d missed the stage direction. As soon as the boys disappeared behind the bend, however, she looked up at him with an expression that blended astonishment and suspicion.
“Had you and Ian been introduced, Lord Bromton?”
“Not,” he replied slowly, “in the usual fashion.”
She pressed her lips into a hard line and then looked away. She had a lovely profile. A fine, firm jaw, and a contrasting softness to her cheeks.
“Ian did not come to his senses on his own, did he?”
“No,” he conceded, “Ian did not come to his senses without assistance.”
“You were, I gather, the inspiration for this unexpected apology?”
Here, he was supposed to answer with a resounding yes, along with a promise to always keep her and Julia from harm. But he’d made that plan before he’d seen his hellion hunched over a tombstone with tears in her eyes.
Now, as her response slid into place like a key to an oiled lock, he felt no satisfaction.
Hadn’t this been the way since the night of the infernal card game? Every scheme he’d brought to fruition, every attempt he’d made to assuage his stilted honor, only deepened his sense that he was in the wrong.
“If I was inspiration for his apology,” he answered noncommittally, “I promise I was not overly harsh.”
She crossed her hands over her chest. “How, may I ask, did you discover an apology was required?”
“Instinct?” he ventured.
Her glance was sharper than a haberdasher’s shears. “Instinct assisted by a healthy dose of gossip, I wager.”
He glanced past her shoulder to the village beyond. This was all wrong. All of it. He wished he could take it back. “I prevented, I believe, a planned assignation.”
She inhaled. “And you chose to speak with Ian without consulting myself or Markham?”
He looked down at his hands. “Put it that way and it sounds pompous.”
“Presumptuous, perhaps,” her voice softened, “but not unappreciated.”
He glanced up. Her expression would have fed the tongue-lolling puppy part of him hope, had he not designed the whole event.
“I am,” she continued, “unaccustomed to having my concerns lifted from my shoulders.”
Devil take it, he was an ass. An ass fascinated by the colors of twilight dusting her cheeks. An ass with a Katherine-shaped hole at the center of his heart.
“Be careful,” she added quietly. “I could become accustomed to such care.”
His heart hammered against his ribs—a beat that chantedbastard, bastard, bastard.
“Do not,” he warned, “revise your opinion of me all at once.”
She continued to hold him with a thoughtful gaze. “What other good deeds have you kept quiet?”
“None.” His cheeks warmed with an involuntary flush. “I am every bit as heartless and imperious as you believe.”
Her softened expression did not change. He swallowed. Had he thought Katherine a sensible woman?Run, you little fool.
She placed her fingers against his arm. “Shall we return?”
