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He lifted a shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “It is not a requirement for marriage.”
She scoffed. “I daresay it should be!”
“Why?”
“Surely you jest?”
“I never do about matters of the heart.”
They sat before the small table, and he poured wine in two glasses. She took the drink he handed to her and sipped appreciatively.
“At least you will admit to having a heart.”
He chuckled, genuinely enjoying her rejoinders.
She peered at him over the rim of her wine glass. “Can you imagine spending the rest of your life with a woman you barely liked? Though I wish to marry and have my own home, it would mortify me to marry a gentleman I did not esteem. How can you think to marry without sentiments?”
No, he could not imagine a cold union without affections. His parents had loved each other dearly, and it had almost broken his father when she died. Still, the earl had rallied and was ardently pursuing another union.
“So you wish to marry,” he murmured.
“I daresay I do!”
“Then, why are you still unwedded?” he asked, wondering if there was something more to it than her lack of dowry.
She hesitated to reply, taking several sips of her wine as if to gather her thoughts. Callisto lowered the glass, and he grabbed the carafe and topped it up.
“I suppose no gentleman of the ton is interested in a young lady with little connections and no money. It would take a rare man to look beyond such deficiencies, and where would I find such a man? Certainly not here in Gloucestershire. I’ve been slowly losing my faith that love is all that is required, and I must perhaps accept I am destined to remain a spinster.”
She seemed embarrassed by her frankness and took a few hurried gulps of her wine.
“And what is your idea of the perfect partner?” he asked, lazily sipping his wine, watching each shift of her animated expressions.
“That he loves me. And that is he kind, considerate…tender and playful.”
Incredulity rushed through him. “That is it?”
“Are those not the best of qualities?” she demanded, looking affronted.
“There are greater considerations to the matter.”
She arched a delicate brow. “Such as?”
“You should require that your beau possesses enough wealth to keep you in pretty dresses and fancy carriages. A townhouse in London, fashionable balls and routs, and a few country homes here and there? My dear, Callisto, love cannot provide for you and any children you might have! You have to be more practical than romantic when hoping for a suitor.”
She had the gall to roll her eyes. “Of course, I wish to be comfortable, and for my husband to be able to provide for his family. But I would prefer to wed a man who loves me with every emotion in his heart than a duke who can lavish me with clothes, homes, and diamonds but does not love me.”
She set her elbows onto the table and rested her chin on her palm. “The ideal partner could love me and be wealthy!” Then she winked at him. “A man such as yourself, but you must be persuaded that sentiments between lovers are as necessary as breathing air!”
Graham laughed, delighted with her. “And how would you convince me of this?”
An unexpected silence fell between them, and her gaze lingered on his lips for shocking moments.
“With kisses perhaps,” she whispered, a crooked smile curving her lips. “You were my first.”
Astonishment had him stiffening. “Your first what?”
Their gazes collided and held for a moment.
