“Sincere,” he repeated with a thoughtful expression. “And here I thought myself so sincere as to border on the suggestive.”
She looked back to the lake—anything else was dangerous. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “I suppose I do, on occasion, treat Markham like a child.”
“On occasion,” he agreed.
“Lucky for me, intimidation is not among his strengths.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“If you want me to believe you sincere, don’t pretendPercyhas ever been able to intimidate you.”
“He came tolerably close.” He grinned. “Why shouldn’t he? He learned from a master, after all.”
“You?” She made a derisive sound.
“One brute,” he bowed his head, “at my lady’s service.”
Oh my. “Markham says you call him pup.”
He squinted out over the pond. “Lord Rayne’s moniker for Markham has more to do with rivalry than inexperience.”
“Rivalry?” she asked.
He nodded. “Rayne is unused to competition.”
“If Lord Rayne is your friend,” she said, “I seriously doubt he’s unused to competition.”
“Why, thank you.” Both dimples made a rare appearance. “Though, when you meet Lord Rayne, you will understand.”
“You speak as if meeting Lord Rayne is a foregone conclusion.”
“It is.” He held her gaze. “Rayne’s lands border mine. I’ve known him since he was born.”
Katherine studied the water, resisting a threatening frown. Hadn’t Markham told her that Bromton had been engaged to Rayne’s sister? She decided she did not want to ask.
“Markham,” she continued, “told me he’s called hearts to your spades. Somehow I cannot imagine ladies fawning over my brother.”
Bromton’s breath teased the hair at his temples. “He’s more Don Quixote than Don Juan.”
Katherine laughed. “Markham, a knight errant? I could no more believe that than I could believe he’s gained the reputation of a legendary lover.”
Bromton sent her a glance. “Be that as it may…”
“Is his heart engaged?”
He fixed his eyes on the horizon.
“Really, Lord Bromton,” she chided, “you just said that if there was anything I wished to know, I need only ask.”
He winked. “I had hoped you wished to discuss me.”
“And so, we shall,” she replied a touch too lightly. “But first, tell me if I need to worry.”
He shook his head no. “Markham can care for himself. I suspect he’s developed atendre, but the lady in question is…” he looked back out over the lake, “…not his.”
Her cheeks colored. “She is not yours, is she?”
“Hellion,” he said in a disappointed voice. The word sent a thrilling trickle over her skin.
