It felt strange sitting in Mary’s favorite place. Kit rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
Rutherford’s quizzing glass focused on Kit. “Unfortunate, but not surprising.” He waved his arm to include Huntley and Marcus. “However, you have with you those who have battled the female mind and won.” Huntley rolled his eyes as Rutherford continued. “I believe you must begin at the beginning.”
Huntley pressed a cup of tea into Kit’s hands.
He took a sip. It was better when Mary made it. “I had not visited Rose Hill since I first inherited it . . .”
As he finished the tale, Huntley polished off the last biscuit. “You wish to marry her?”
“In a word, yes.” Kit put down the cup of cold tea. “I’ve been attempting to woo her, but, as I said, I’ve done something wrong and do not know how to get this courtship back on track.”
Rutherford went to the door and spoke to whoever was in the corridor. Kit almost grinned at his friend taking charge of the food. Atleast he didn’t have to worry about them making themselves at home, and considering the problems he faced with Mary, that was good.
Marcus sauntered over to the sideboard, filled four glasses, and came back with two, one of which he gave to Kit. “Sherry. I have found it is better for cognition than brandy.”
After the other two men had their drinks, Kit continued. “Just when I think we’re becoming closer, she backs away.”
“What does she do when you kiss her?” Marcus asked.
“Kiss her!” Kit jumped up and began pacing the room. He was at the end of his rope. “I’ve been doing my bestnotto kiss her. Good Lord. Mary has been through enough without me acting like a raging beast. Look at what happened when Beaumont followed his basest instincts and compromised Serena.” He shook his head. “No, I will not do the same. I have vowed not to touch her until she agrees to marry me.”
“In case you haven’t noticed”—Huntley held his glass up, tilting it, looking at the amber liquid—“she has already been compromised. One word to the wrong person, to anyone in theton, and everyone will know she has been living here as your wife. With your reputation as the perfect gentleman, the gossip will be vicious.”
“You don’t think I know that?” Shades of his dead brother rose in Kit’s mind and he downed half of his glass in one gulp. It was time to admit what bothered him the most. “Mary has no interest in kissing me.”
His friends stared at him, stunned. He drained his glass, waiting to hear what they’d advise him to do next.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Kit will never fall in love with me.” Mary blinked away the tears pricking her eyelids. She’d wanted to be able to talk about how she felt, but now every nerve was stretched to the breaking point.
After a few moments, Phoebe slowly shook her head. “I do not believe it.”
“Neither do I.” Caro pulled a branch of a lilac bush down, inhaling. “He still looks at you the same way he did before.”
“I agree with Phoebe and Caro,” Anna said. “What makes you think he’s not interested in you?”
“Most of his compliments are on how well I have managed the estate. He has never told me I look pretty or even nice.”
“I realize Kit is reserved, but that is ridiculous,” Phoebe said with disgust.
Anna cast her eyes at the clouds. “What a slow-top.”
“I’m not so sure.” Caro ran her hand over the privet hedge, releasing its fragrance. “By praising you on what you’ve accomplished, rather than your beauty, such as another man might, he probably does think heisbeing considerate of you.”
“Kit is very proper,” Anna added. “Other than his mother and sisters, I doubt he has told any lady that she looks pretty. He might be waiting for a sign from you.”
“But he hasn’t even tried to kiss me.” There, it was out. What a horrible admission to have to make even to one’s friends. Men were supposed to want to kiss women.
This was too much. Mary plopped down on one of the new benches she’d had built. “I’ve all but thrown myself at him. I don’t know what more to do.”
Phoebe raised a brow. “Are you saying you have attempted to kiss him, and he has refused?”
“No. Of course not.” Mary hated pouting and that’s exactly what she was doing. “What do I know of kissing, other than being slobbered upon by Gawain or some other man in an attempt to compromise me?”
Anna grinned. “I have a book—”
“No!” Phoebe said firmly. “You and Rutherford had done much more than kissing when you started with the book. You would give poor Kit apoplexy.”
