Bowman seemed vastly entertained. “And what did Clark discover?”

“It seems I have a large brain, an affectionate and constant nature, a tendency to leap to judgment, and a capacity for strong attachment. Unfortunately there is also a slight narrowing at the back of my skull that indicates criminal propensities.”

He laughed in delight. “I should have guessed. It’s always the innocent-looking ones who are capable of the worst. Here, let me feel it. I want to know how a criminal mind is shaped.”

Hannah ducked away quickly as he reached for her. “Don’t touch me!”

“You’ve already let one man fondle your cranium,” he said, following as she backed away. “Now it makes no difference if you let someone else do it.”

He was playing with her, Hannah realized. Although it was altogether improper, she felt a giggle work up through the layers of caution and anxiety. “Examine your own head,” she cried, fleeing to the other side of the fountain. “I’m sure there are any number of criminal lumps on it.”

“The results would be skewed,” he told her. “I received too many raps on the head during my childhood. My father told my tutors it was good for me.”

Though the words were spoken lightly, Hannah stopped and regarded him with a flicker of compassion. “Poor boy.”

Bowman came to a stop in front of her again. “Not at all. I deserved it. I’ve been wicked since birth.”

“No child is wicked without a reason.”

“Oh, I had a reason. Since I had no hope of ever becoming the paragon my parents expected, I decided to go the other way. I’m sure it was only my mother’s intervention that kept my father from tying me to a tree beside the road with a note reading ‘Take to orphanage.’ “

Hannah smiled slightly. “Is there any offspring your father is pleased with?”

“Not especially. But he sets store by my brother-in-law Matthew Swift. Even before he married Daisy, Swift had become like a son to my father. He worked for him in New York. An unusually patient man, our Mr. Swift. Otherwise he couldn’t have survived this long.”

“Your father has a temper?”

“My father is the kind of man who would lure a dog with a bone, and when the dog is in reach, beat him with it. And then throw a tantrum if the dog doesn’t hurry back to him the next time.”

He offered Hannah his arm again, and she took it as they headed back toward the manor.

“Did your father arrange the marriage between your sister and Mr. Swift?” she asked.

“Yes. But somehow it seems to have turned into a love match.”

“That happens sometimes,” she said wisely.

“Only because some people, when faced with the inevitable, convince themselves they like it merely to make the situation palatable.”

Hannah made a soft tsk tsk with her tongue. “You’re a cynic, Mr. Bowman.”

“A realist.”

She gave him a curious glance. “Do you think you might ever fall in love with Natalie?”

“I could probably come to care for her,” he said casually.

“I mean real love, the kind that makes you feel wildness, joy, and despair all at once. Love that would inspire you to make any kind of sacrifice for someone else’s sake.”

A sardonic smile curved his lips. “Why would I want to feel that way about my wife? It would ruin a perfectly good marriage.”

They walked through the winter garden in silence, while Hannah struggled with the certainty that he was even more dangerous, more wrong for Natalie, than she had originally believed. Natalie would eventually be hurt and disillusioned by a husband she could never trust.

“You are not suitable for Natalie,” she heard herself say wretchedly. “The more I learn about you, the more certain I am of that fact. I wish you would leave her alone. I wish you would find some other nobleman’s daughter to prey upon.”

Bowman stopped with her beside the hedge. “You arrogant little baggage,” he said quietly. “The prey was not of my choosing. I’m merely trying to make the best of my circumstances. And if Lady Natalie will have me, it’s not your place to object.”

“My affection for her gives me the right to say something”

“Maybe it’s not affection. Are you certain you’re not speaking out of jealousy?”

“Jealousy? Of Natalie? You’re mad to suggest such a thing”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said with ruthless softness. “It’s possible you’re tired of standing in her shadow. Watching your cousin in all her finery, being admired and sought after while you stay at the side of the room with the dowagers and wallflowers.”

Hannah sputtered in outrage, one of her fists clenching and rising as if to strike him.

Bowman caught her wrist easily, running a finger lightly over her whitened knuckles. His soft, mocking laugh scalded her ears. “Here,” he said, forcibly crooking her thumb and tucking it across her fingers. “Don’t ever try to hit someone with your thumb extendedyou’ll break it that way.”

“Let go,” she cried, yanking hard at her imprisoned wrist.

“You wouldn’t be so angry if I hadn’t struck a nerve,” he taunted. “Poor Hannah, always standing in the corner, waiting for your turn. I’ll tell you somethingyou’re more than Natalie’s equal, blue blood or no. You were meant for something far better than this”