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His voice was cold with anger when he replied after a brief appalled silence. “Did I detain you in any way except with words?” he asked her. “Are you sure I dragged you here? By the hair, was that? And am I now demanding that you fall on your knees before me and grovel? And you are not an insignificant female. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You see?” She gestured with one arm and glared up into the tree branches on the other side of the path as though they were silent witnesses. “It is happening even tonight. You are making me feel less than. I am not less than anyone or anything. I am as I am, and I have learned to be happy with myself, to like myself as I am. I will not allow you or anyone else to shake me from that conviction.”

The silence before he spoke again lasted a little longer this time. “Is that how I make you feel?” he said. “Less than?”

“Yes,” she said, returning her hand to her lap. “You are so…perfect in every imaginable way. You have done absolutely nothing to deserve the way I feel about you. If it will make you feel better, I admit that the fault is all in me.”

“You are happy being less than you can be, then?” he asked her.

She turned her head briefly to look at him. Perhaps the paleness of his face was only a trick of the light.

“Is there someone else?” he said. “I asked you at Christmastime, and you gave a noncommittal answer. Is there?”

She looked down at her hands again and for a few moments considered saying nothing more. But why be quiet now? “On Easter Sunday he asked me to marry him,” she said.

“And?”

“I have known him for a while,” she said. “He is a good man. I like him. I am comfortable with him. I could expect a life of great contentment with him. I was going to say yes if and when he made me an offer.”

“But you said no?” he said.

“I told him I was not sure,” she said. “I told him it would be unfair to ask him to give me more time, but he said he would anyway. Next time, if there is a next time, I will say yes.”

“Why did you hesitate this time?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I think I am of an age when I realize the enormity of such a decision,” she said. “Marriage is for life.”

“Will a little extra time help you to accept the risk, then?” he asked.

She shrugged again.

“What would make you more certain?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I do not even know,” she said. “I have chosen with care and with sound reasoning.”

“Is it love that is missing?” he said.

“I believe love grows from companionship and respect and affection,” she said.

“I agree,” he said. “But there are different kinds of love, are there not? What about passion?”

“What about you?” she said, ignoring his question. “Your attention seemed totally absorbed in Miss Easton when I saw you earlier.”

“I am twenty-nine years old,” he said, “and my father’s sole heir apart from his brother, who himself is single with no heirs. I have responsibilities, a duty to the title and properties that will be mine someday, though heaven forbid that day to be soon. Title and fortune may seem glamorous and desirable. They do limit one’s freedom and one’s choices, however. It is time for me to marry and begin a family. The best place to find a bride seems to be London during the social Season.”

She was listening intently.

“I am hugely eligible,” he said, “for which fact I take no credit at all. This year I came to look, and I have been besieged by prospective brides and their mamas, eager to attach themselves to all I have to offer. I selected Miss Easton as a distinct possibility. She is sweet and intelligent and companionable, and she seemed to be in possession of a mother far less aggressive than many others. I have danced with Miss Easton on a few occasions and taken her driving in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour. I accepted an invitation from her parents to join a party of friends at the box they had hired here tonight. I discovered after I arrived, however, that the party of eight is made up of seven close family members and me. And the whole evening appears to have been carefully planned out in advance to ensure that at some point Miss Easton and I would be left alone together in what are arguably the most romantic surroundings available in London. I knew even before we almost literally ran into you and Captain Paulson that I would not be seeing Miss Easton again after tonight. I apologize for the lengthy answer, but you did ask.”

“Foolish Mrs. Easton,” she said. “So now you will try again with someone else? Someone else who is sweet and intelligent and companionable?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Not someone you love?” she said. “Someone for whom you feel some passion?”

“No,” he said. “Not passion. It is something I will only ever feel for one woman. And she is not available to me.”

She turned her head and raised her eyes to his.