“Are you suggesting I should have let her be charged with murder?”
“You don’t know if it would have come to that.”
Roman looked across the field to where Bonhomie’s roof could be seen above the just-budding treetops. “She was too young.”
“But then your paths crossed in London?”
He faced David. “Thaddeus mentioned her name. He said her father was most anxious to marry her off to a title in exchange for a generous dowry.”
“And you thought to claim her money?”
“In theory.” Roman stood and paced a step, stabbing his fingers through his hair.What had he been thinking when he first saw Leonie again?
“My attraction to her is strong,” he admitted. “She is the only woman I have ever wanted.” There was truth. He’d attempted to court others but nothing had ever come of those liaisons. “The night I saw her at the ball, I was angry and yet I had a knowing that, all along, we would meet again.”
“She agreed to the marriage?”
Leave it to David to find the heart of the matter. “She told me she would marry me, provided I let her live her life separate from mine.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“And here she is. That must mean something. I watched her last night. She’d look to you from time to time as if needing reassurance, and you couldn’t take your eyes from her.”
“She drinks.”
His stepfather frowned. “Drinks?”
“Aye, she has a problem. I was watching to see if she touched her glass of cider.” He ended up telling David the whole story, including the attack in the inn.
When he was done, his stepfather gave a low whistle. “She is so young. It is a shame.”
“I can’t decide what to do. I could send her back to her family, but her father wants grandchildren and has paid well for them.”
“And if you keep her?”
“I don’t know if I can trust her. Last night, she refused cider and yet when we returned home she found something to drink. I don’t want to live this way, always being suspicious. I want the trust that you and Mother have.”
“It took years of marriage to build what we have.”
“Her mother drinks. Her father as well. A more selfish fool has never walked this earth than William Charnock. He has money and a name but he lacks what really matters.”
David leaned forward. “What of the daughter?”
“I don’t know yet. I want to believe she is unlike her parents, except reason tells me I’m deceiving myself.”
“But you really haven’t decided?”
“No.” Roman paused a moment and then admitted, “Sometimes I believe I am overreacting. Other times I believe I’m mad. And still others—” He stopped, unsure whether to continue.
“Still others?” David prompted.
“I love her. I would forgive her anything. I should resent her. She’s already cost me my reputation. I am fortunate I inherited this title so I have a chance to begin anew. And yet, here she is—in my life again.”
“Two things, son,” David said. Roman looked at his stepfather expectantly. Out of respect for Roman’s true father, David rarely used the word “son,” even though he’d had a hand in raising Roman since he was a babe. Roman had also learned that when he heard that word, he’d best listen. “The first is that love knows no logic. That is why the poets are good at it and the philosophers are failures. You will have to reach your own decision.”
“I know that.”
