Kitty’s smile wavered. “How do you know of Marina?”
“Cynthia told me,” Norman replied, his expression blank.
Kitty pressed her lips, attempting to mask her annoyance at that. “She is Italian, yes. Although she spent a considerable amount of time in France as well.”
“And what,” he asked, his voice carefully light, “were these ‘unconventional habits’ which Lady Cynthia so eagerly suggested?”
Kitty hesitated before responding, carefully considering the next words that would come out of her mouth. “Marina did not believe in unnecessary restrictions. She was quite expressive, especially toward her husband and the love she had for him. She enjoyed masquerade balls and fine wine….”
He considered this, watching her intently. “And yet, you respected her?”
Kitty lifted her chin. “I did. She did what she pleased. I think there is something to be respected about that. It takes quite a lot of courage.”
Norman did not demur to her surprise. He simply nodded in the direction of a passing boat. “You observe Lady Talbot on that vessel? Her son, the fellow in the blue uniform, made a try to elope last summer with one of the governesses. His father bought her off.”
Kitty glared in the direction he gazed. “I wasn’t aware...”
“Most of them aren’t. And yet, that family is quite respectable.” He nodded his head in the direction of another group, a solemn expression on his face. “Lord Newbury’s family is another. Good name, but they were nearly ruined by his father’s investments. Debts their son had to repay.”
She ought to have been riveted—the entire ton certainly was—but the particulars slipped past her like the minnows darting beneath their boat.
What did catch her attention was the careful tone of his voice. The way he’d lowered it just so when mentioning the more salacious details, as if to sayThis is for you alone.
He’s doing this for me.
The realization settled over her like sunlight, warm and unexpected. She had been braced for judgment—for thewhispers that followed her like shadows—but Norman offered none of that. Instead, he spun tales of far pettier scandals, as if to say,See? You are not the worst of them. You are not even close.
Kitty hesitated for a moment whether to interrogate him on those debts. She sensed that he was speaking out of something more personal than rumor. But she did not pursue it, saying instead, “I am barely surprised. I met a great number of families in the continent whose fortunes were forfeit by misplaced trust.”
Norman’s mouth curled. “Ah, but Englishmen are honorable. We do not defraud.”
Kitty let out a small laugh. “That is a fine myth you make up for yourselves. As if shame stops at the Channel.”
He shook his head. “You’re saying foreign men are better?
“I am stating that I have met a great many respectable men and women abroad,” she snapped. “And that although titles are important, they do not weigh as much there. People mix freely across ranks much more easily.”
“Because they have no tradition.”
“Because they know that respectability is not necessarily hereditary.”
Norman breathed deeply, his good nature thinning but his tone still level. “You speak as if rank means nothing. It does not. It is duty, history, stability.”
Kitty leaned forward a little, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Yes, such duty that it forces you to marry the last person you would choose for yourself.”
His eyes flickered, but he did not deny it. He merely gazed at her. “And you,” he stated in his controlled voice, “if you loved this so-called free and enjoyable society so dearly, why did you never marry a foreigner?”
Kitty paused a moment before answering. “Every time I considered it, I thought of my father. How, if I married, I’d have to leave him behind.” She gazed out at the water, nostalgia filling up her lungs. “I stayed unmarried because I felt I was being faithful to him. I thought that once we were back in London, I would be able to find a love like the one he had with my mother.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Norman spoke, almost wryly, “In our own way, then, we are both bound by duty.”
Kitty looked at him, surprised to see no mockery in his face, only a questioning, thoughtful acceptance. She did not know why that upset her more than his usual acerbity.
Jane, who had been more or less ignored through the conversation, let out a soft sigh. “You are both as stubborn as oxen.”
“Worse,” Richard declared from the dock, polishing his spectacles with exaggerated patience. “Oxen have the decency to plow fields. These two? They’d rather plow straight into each other’s pride until the sun sets.” He sniffed. “Frankly, it’s unsporting. At least let the rest of us place bets.”
Kitty’s mouth fell open. “Father!”
