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The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(78)

Author:Julia Quinn

It was thrilling.

But more than that, it was terrifying.

“You’re a very wise man,” she whispered.

It took him a moment to remember what they’d been talking about. Ah yes, fears. He knew fears. He tried to laugh off her compliment. “Most of the time I’m a very foolish man.”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’ve hit the nail squarely on its proverbial head. Of course I would not tell Mary and Edwina. I do not want to trouble them.” She chewed on her lip for a moment—a funny little movement with her teeth that he found oddly seductive.

“Of course,” she added, “if I am to be true to myself, I must confess that my motives are not entirely unselfish. Surely, an equal part of my reluctance lies in my desire not to be seen as weak.”

“That’s not such a terrible sin,” he murmured.

“Not as far as sins go, I suppose,” Kate said with a smile. “But I would hazard a guess that it is one from which you, too, suffer.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded his assent.

“We all have our roles to play in life,” she continued, “and mine has always been to be strong and sensible. Cringing under a table during an electrical storm is neither.”

“Your sister,” he said quietly, “is probably a great deal stronger than you think.”

Her eyes flew to his face. Was he trying to tell her that he’d fallen in love with Edwina? He’d complimented her sister’s grace and beauty before, but never had he referred to her inner person.

Kate’s eyes searched his for as long as she dared, but she found nothing that revealed his true feelings. “I did not mean to imply that she wasn’t,” she finally replied. “But I am her older sister. I have always had to be strong for her. Whereas she has only had to be strong for herself.” She brought her eyes back up to his, only to find that he was staring at her with an odd intensity, almost as if he could see past her skin and into her very soul. “You are the oldest as well,” she said. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”

He nodded, and his eyes looked amused and resigned at the same time. “Exactly.”

She gave him an answering smile, the kind that passed between people who know similar experiences and trials. And as she felt herself growing more at ease next to him, almost as if she could sink into his side and bury herself against the warmth of his body, she knew that she could put off her task no longer.

She had to tell him that she’d withdrawn her opposition to his match with Edwina. It wasn’t fair to anyone to keep it to herself, just because she wanted to keep him to herself, if only for a few perfect moments right here in the gardens.

She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and turned to him.

He looked at her expectantly. It was obvious, after all, that she had something to say.

Kate’s lips parted. But nothing came out.

“Yes?” he asked, looking rather amused.

“My lord,” she blurted out.

“Anthony,” he corrected gently.

“Anthony,” she repeated, wondering why the use of his given name made this all the more difficult. “I did need to speak with you about something.”

He smiled. “I’d gathered.”

Her eyes became inexplicably fastened on her right foot, which was tracing half-moons on the packed dirt of the path. “It’s…um…it’s about Edwina.”

Anthony’s brows rose and he followed her gaze to her foot, which had left half-moons behind and was now drawing squiggly lines. “Is something amiss with your sister?” he inquired gently.

She shook her head, looking back up. “Not at all. I believe she’s in the drawing room, writing a letter to our cousin in Somerset. Ladies like to do that, you know.”

He blinked. “Do what?”

“Write letters. I’m not a very good correspondent myself,” she said, her words coming forth in an oddly rushed fashion, “as I rarely have the patience to sit still at a desk long enough to write an entire letter. Not to mention that my penmanship is abysmal. But most ladies spend a goodly portion of every day drafting letters.”

He tried not to smile. “You wanted to warn me that your sister likes to write letters?”

“No, of course not,” she mumbled. “It’s just that you asked if she was all right, and I said of course, and I told you where she was, and then we were entirely off the topic, and—”

He laid his hand across hers, effectively cutting her off. “What is it you needed to tell me, Kate?”

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