“So now you fear losing your wife?” Andrew murmured. “If you loved her, that is.”
“No. I fear becoming like him.”
Andrew leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “So what do you plan to do? Cage this young woman in a loveless union because you’re afraid of your own heart?”
Norman turned. “I’ll give her a title. Wealth. Security. She’ll be respected and protected, and free to do as she likes within the bounds of decency.”
“But not loved.”
“Love is not essential to a marriage.”
Andrew tilted his head. “It is if she expects it.”
Norman stiffened. “She’s not a girl to dream about hearts and roses. She’s cleverer than that.”
“You’re clever, too,” Andrew said lightly. “And yet here you are, afraid of love because you know what it would do to you if you felt it.”
Norman didn’t answer.
The silence stretched.
Andrew rose and crossed to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Well, cousin. If you’re determined to be miserable, at least let me be entertained by it. I look forward to the wedding.”
Norman gave him a dry glance. “Your support is overwhelming.”
Norman glanced once more toward the window, where the sky was slowly shifting toward dusk.
He could still see her there, in his mind’s eye—Kitty, backlit by moonlight, defiance burning in her eyes even as she trembled. Brave. Determined.
Beautiful.
But no matter how fiercely she might blaze, he would not be drawn in.
His heart had been buried with his mother. He would not dig it up again.
Andrew grinned. “Always, Your Grace.”
Five
The drawing room was still, save for the occasional snap of firewood settling in the grate. Afternoon light slanted through gauzy curtains, as the scent of bergamot and honey hung in the air from the tea that steamed in the delicate cups, carefully arranged on the table between Kitty and Jane.
Kitty stared into her cup, untouched. She hadn’t added milk or sugar, which Jane noted silently—Kitty always took two cubes.
“I cannot marry him,” Kitty said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Jane, seated across from her in a high-backed chair embroidered with tiny bluebells, folded her hands over her lap. “You must.”
Kitty’s head lifted. “You saw what happened. He was only helping me to stand. There was no impropriety, no kiss—nothing. And yet the ton is ready to set the date and embroider my wedding veil.”
Jane took a sip of tea before responding. “That may all be true, darling. But perception matters more than truth in London society.”
Kitty set her cup down with a soft clink. “But it isn’t right. He’s a stranger. I don’t know anything about him except that he’s a duke..”
“And rich,” Jane added dryly.
Kitty almost laughed, but the feeling curdled into frustration. “So that’s it, then? A title and a fortune are enough to trap a girl into a life she didn’t choose?”
“Kitty.” Jane leaned forward. “You were caught alone in the garden with him. With a man. A powerful one. They will imagine far worse than truth could provide.”
