“Children would be wonderful,” she admitted. “And Whit and I are both testimony to the fact they can be happily raised in a home with only one loving parent. But the possibility of that is not sufficient reason to enter into an ill-advised union.”
“It bloody well isn’t ill-advised.” He threw his hand up in an impatient gesture. “And you may very well already be with child.”
She rose slowly from her seat, as if she ached. “Should that circumstance arise, I may have to reconsider matters, but unless it does, I’ll marry for love, or not at all.”
“You love me. That is more than most in the ton can claim. Can’t it be enough for now, and—?”
“If it were enough to earn your love in return, it would be.”
“Kate, you have to understand—”
She didn’t, apparently. She’d turned and walked from the room before he could finish his sentence.
Twenty-four
Kate wondered a little that she was able to walk down the hall, past staff and guests as if nothing was amiss. She wondered that she was able to walk at all. The hurt was enormous. It sat heavy in her chest where her heart ought to be and beat out a steady rhythm of pain in time to the rushing of blood in her ears. It bloomed out from there—sharp tendrils that wound through her belly and out to her arms and legs down to her very toes. Her head hurt. Her eyes burned. Even her jaw ached from clenching.
Hunter didn’t love her. He’d all but promised he never would.
The burn at the back of her eyes increased as she dragged herself up the back stairs.
Was it irony that she should have spent so much time dreaming of a prince who loved her without bounds, only to have fallen in love herself with one who would not love her in return? That he could not, she refused to believe. At least in the sense that he was incapable of love entirely. Everyone was capable of love. It was Hunter’s choice to keep his heart locked safe behind a wall of mistrust.
She couldn’t blame him for having constructed the wall, and a portion of the pain she felt now was not only for her, but for the hurt boy he’d been. But he was no longer a helpless boy. He was a grown man of wealth and power. He made his own choices. And he chose to keep the wall.
Though he’d assured her otherwise, Kate couldn’t help wondering whether he would have chosen to take the wall down if she’d been a different sort of woman. Someone less stubborn, or less distracted, or less clumsy. Someone he thought was worth the risk.
The first tear fell as she pushed through her bedroom door. A half dozen more fell before she closed the door behind her.
Hunter didn’t love her. He never would. She’d mistaken the wrong man for her prince, again.
She made it to the bed, crawled atop the counterpane, found a pillow to bury her face against, and began to weep in earnest.
“Kate?” Lizzy’s soft voice filtered through the sound of her own crying. “Lady Kate?”
“I’m sorry, Lizzy.” She managed to turn her head from the pillow and choke the words out between the sobs. “But please go away.”
“It’s Mr. Hunter, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t do anything but turn her face back into the pillow, and cry harder.
Hunter walked along the beach, oblivious to the seagulls swooping overhead, the golden light of morning dancing across the waves, and the salty breeze that blew off the water. He was oblivious to everything but the thoughts and emotions simmering in his mind. Uncomfortable with the latter, he focused his attention on the first.
It was for the best that he fought back the urge to follow Kate after she left the sitting room. The woman was being stubborn and unreasonable. A few hours to herself would be a more effective remedy for that than a few hours spent listening to him demand she cease being stubborn and unreasonable. Furthermore, giving Kate a bit of time to think provided him with time to develop a new strategy, or at the very least, figure out what had gone wrong with the first.
He’d been so sure telling her the truth would work to his benefit. It should have. It would have, if she’d given him a chance to convince her he’d make a fine husband. They’d have a good marriage, no less happy for not being a love match.