No matter how often she had once believed she might love him, no matter how often she had dreamed of being his wife, she could not say yes.
Not when marrying him might mean losing the only part of her life that was truly hers.
Chapter 3
James
James waited as Kate drew a long breath and rose. The sudden absence of her warmth left an unexpected hollow at his side, one he ignored as he leaned back against the bench, surprisingly at ease. For once, it was not an act. Something about Kate loosened the tight coil in his chest, a welcome but dangerous feeling. It was the kind that made a man forget why he needed his defenses in the first place.
This should have been simple. A step toward regaining his position and the means to catch Henry’s killer. Instead, Kate had turned it into a far less predictable event. James had expected nerves, perhaps hesitation. What he had not expected was how quickly she overturned every assumption he had made about her.
Kate paced the uneven ground, cheeks warmed by the effort, lips moving faintly as though she were rehearsing a speech. He was struck by her grace and beauty, but it was her unpredictability he found most appealing. Curiosity held him there, waiting for what she would say next.
This was precisely the sort of complication he avoided. And yet, he had just invited it.
He had spoken truthfully. He preferred her direct honesty to a thousand polite but empty conversations, even if it meant remaining on the frozen bench until the sun failed them. The furrow between her brows suggested she was either solving a puzzle or preparing for battle. It was a look he remembered well.
At last, Kate halted. He rose to meet her. She picked up their conversation without a beat of hesitation.
“Yes, my lord. I have a proposal of sorts. I would like us to have a proper courtship . . . in London.” She smoothed the hem of her sleeve, though her voice remained firm. “My father is required to be in Town for Parliament, and my mother and I are to accompany him. If you wish to court me, then London seems the most sensible place for us to become reacquainted while I consider your offer.”
“A courtship. In London,” he repeated, momentarily at a loss. Why was he merely echoing her words? “Your father did not mention you were planning to leave.”
A rosy hue crept up her cheeks. “The plans have been in place for some time, but I asked him to allow me to inform you. My parents are assuming we will marry before we go, but I have no wish to marry a stranger.”
Her pronouncement settled between them, quiet and immovable. Words utterly failed him.
She arched a brow, amusement flickering across her features at his silence. “I realize you have been absent from local society for some time,” she said, “but a courtshipisan acceptable practice for a gentleman and lady contemplating marriage.”
The little minx.James fought a smile. She was making it difficult to remember his carefully constructed plan. London had always been part of that, but he had intended to leavetoday betrothed and then married within days. Not facing a complicated courtship.
Yet this conversation was growing more intriguing by the minute. The woman before him was not only beautiful, but delightfully sharp-witted in a way he had never fully appreciated before.
“In practice, I have no objection to either,” he said slowly. “I simply do not understand what changes in the meantime. This is, after all—”
“—a practical arrangement,” she finished for him, her voice chillier than the winter air. “You said as much.”
She let her gaze fall to the trees, turning away from him.Had his bluntness wounded her?The idea landed unexpectedly and more sharply than it ought to have. He had intended only to manage expectations.
James needed to understand, even if it risked pushing her away. “If we decide to marry, then why wait?” he asked. “We once shared a childhood friendship. Certainly marriage would afford us the opportunity to become reacquainted.”
She straightened her shoulders. “But we are not children anymore,” she said, her voice low but firm. “And I do not think I can consent to marry a man whose character I do not know well.”
She retreated deliberately, just beyond his reach. His breath caught. An icy patch lay beneath her. He moved without thinking, his arm circling her waist as her footing gave way. She shifted clear of the ice, and he forced himself to let go.
She smoothed her pelisse where he had touched her. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your assistance.”
He nodded, the ease from earlier slipping further out of reach. The space between them had widened, though she had moved only a few steps. A long beat stretched as he searched for a response. A desire to become reacquainted was reason enoughfor her to request a courtship, and yet, her tone and the tension she carried suggested a purpose beyond that. His instincts sharpened.
Was there already someone else? His stomach twisted. The thought of another man having already secured her regard, of having some prior claim, took hold, sudden and disquieting. After so many years away, he could hardly expect to find Kate unchanged and waiting for him.
He moved closer. “Kate—” He hesitated, his voice not quite steady. “Is your heart engaged elsewhere?”
Please say no.
A blush stole up her cheeks. “No, I only had one Season. Several gentlemen called upon me, but I found no reason to encourage them,” she replied, letting out a huff. “Our parents’ intentions are hardly a secret among theton, Lord Brenton. It should not be a surprise that they were not overly welcoming to any of my suitors either.”
Relief passed quickly, giving way to irritation at her repeated formality. He felt an inexplicable urge to knock down just this one barrier, even as he promised himself the rest of his defenses would stay firmly in place. “Must you call me Lord Brenton?”
