“It doesn’t matter if I like him.”
“It matters to me.”
“I have found nothing about him that presents any suspicion. Not at the moment at least.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“He seems nice enough, is not dumb as a stick, he has a suitable hobby and a good income. What is not to like in a prospective suitor?”
“Tony. I need your honest opinion.”
He sat down next to her and studied her face. “He seems to be holding back. It doesn’t sit right with me. He acts like a man ready for marriage, but something tells me he is not ready. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is off.”
“Then perhaps I should wait.”
He stood then, the study of ease, but Lucinda knew he was anything but calm.
“No. I think you should continue to court,” he said. “I have become jaded over the years and my opinion should not sway you. You need to make up your own mind. If your senses tell you he is the one, I will not stand in your way.”
“If you were to choose someone for me, who would it be?”
He balled his hands into fists. “You cannot ask me that.”
“Why not? Surely, you know who the best candidates are?”
“Because you will not like the answer!” His tone was harsh, and she shrank back, shocked.
“Good lord, Tony. I am more confused now than when this conversation started. Is this why Marianne is still unwed? Can you find no man who is suitable for her either?”
“This has nothing to do with Marianne.”
“Fine.” She rose from her seat and placed her hand on his chest to calm him, but he grabbed it and pushed it aside. “I don’t understand why you are so angry with me all of a sudden?”
“I am not mad at you. I just… cannot have your hands on me right now.”
She was taken aback, disappointment running through her like a black poison. “Do I repulse you, sir?”
He shook his head, his expression melancholy. “On the contrary, Miss Sterling.”
“Oh.”
He turned on his heel to leave.
“Wait! Stay.” It was a pathetic plea, even to her own ears.
He stopped mid-stride, looking back over his shoulder at her. “I wish I could,” was all he said before striding out of the garden.
Lucinda sat heavily back on the bench, hand on her heart.On the contrary.
Chapter Seventeen
The Duke ofWarrington declared opera as a marriage between poetry and music. “Like art,” he said, looking directly at Tony. “You either love it or hate it. There is no in between.”
“How insightful, brother,” Tony replied. His sarcastic smile made the duke narrow his eyes, but before he could make another remark, Tony set his attention to his sister. “Marianne, you are looking particularly lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Tony. You are looking dashing, I must say. Black does not suit everyone but on you it looks almost devilish.”
“Well, if I am to play devil’s advocate tonight, I suppose I must dress the part.”
