he did. But she was so bedraggled . . . Was it really you, Kate?”
She just looked at him. Her eyes must be as red and puffy as they felt.
“And you asked me to marry you because of that?”
“You were the only man who ever put his arm around me,” she said simply. “Willingly, anyway.”
He stared at her, thunderstruck. “And you remembered it? That was enough for you to want to marry me?”
Her chin trembled, and she pressed her lips together to still it. She inhaled and straightened her shoulders. “As I said, my choices were few, and I hadn’t much time.”
“You might have made a bloody awful mistake!”
It was beginning to feel like she had. “I met Lord Howe three times before my father signed the marriage contract. No one cared whether we suited each other. My mother told me he was the best match I could hope for. At least I went into my second marriage”—she hesitated—“disposed to like you.”
His expression changed. “Kate, I didn’t mean it like that—merely that you approached a man you didn’t know, hadn’t spent any time with, had no mutual acquaintances to vouch for him. There are liars and cheats in every level of society, and many would be happy to lead you to the altar without any thought of you beyond your fortune.”
“I know,” she said softly. “It was a gamble.”
Gerard stared at her in dumbstruck shock. At least she hoped that was all. Her first, deepest wish, that he would admit he loved her as well, had given way to a secondary wish for escape. She shouldn’t have said anything. The longer he said nothing, the more certain she was that it had been a terrible error to tell him.
A loud knock sounded at the door. She started. Gerard blinked. “Not now!” he growled.
“ ’Tis urgent, sir,” called Bragg through the door. “About Reverend Ogilvie.”
Gerard froze. He strode across the room and threw open the door with a snarl. “What?”
“His son is here,” said Bragg, face scrupulously blank. “Or rather, son-in-law. In the drawing room.”
For a long moment he was still. Kate could see the tendons in his neck above his neckcloth, which must have been pulled askew when he bent her over the table and tossed up her skirts. “I’ll be right down,” he said quietly, and closed the door.
Slowly he turned to face her again. The room had never seemed so large as it did right now, when a vast ocean could have filled the distance between them. “I should see him,” he said at last.
She gave a tiny nod. There was no joy for her in the chance that her letter would bring useful information. It might be the key he needed to unlock the mysteries surrounding his family. That was surely more important to him than her confession of feelings both rash and imprudent, to say nothing of unwanted. “Of course.”
“Kate, I . . .” He cleared his throat, still looking utterly nonplussed by her admission. “We shall talk more later.” He hesitated a moment, his face dark, then left, closing the door behind him.
Kate stayed where she was. There was a faint ringing in her ears, and the floor seemed a very long way down. She believed he cared for her, in some way. Gerard was too honorable to mislead her so cruelly, at least by intent. But just as clearly, he didn’t love her. If he had, he surely would have reacted with delight, perhaps even declared his own love for her. And she shouldn’t be surprised. Hadn’t he been just as charming and solicitous of Cora as he’d been of her? Didn’t she already know herself to be quiet and plain, not at all the sort of woman who appealed to hearty, vigorous men? And now he’d all but told her she’d made a mistake in marrying him.
Feeling very old and stupid, she made her way to the chair, where her knees finally gave out. She didn’t know what to do. Part of her still clung to the hope that it wasn’t too late. Who knew what he might say later? But part of her wondered how long she could withstand it. He hadn’t loved her before she told him, but she’d had no expectation of love from him. It was one thing to nurse a secret infatuation; a secret, after all, couldn’t subject one to rejection and hurt.
But once the secret was told . . . Now it had the power to wound.