“No, you don’t. But…it’s not just a matter of money.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “There’s no place in my life for unfettered emotion. If I care about anyone too deeply, things always go wrong. I begin to make mistakes. What I need is predictability. Quiet, dispassionate routine.” His gaze cut to hers. “Marrying you would be like marrying the storm. And I’ve had enough of the storm in my life.”

“You’re looking for calmer seas.”

“I’d as soon have no sea at all.”

“Pity.” Laura stood and dusted off her skirts. They were still damp, half-sticking to her bare legs. “I’d taken you for a gentleman with more mettle.”

He rose to his feet. The sunlight cast a shadow over his face. “A wise man knows his limitations.”

“I don’t think you’re wise. I think you’re a coward.”

His jaw hardened. “Laura—”

“You believe you can have a full life without feeling anything? As if you’re a spectator, standing by the side of the road, watching the parade go by? Never risking anything—never getting hurt?” She made a scoffing sound. “That’s not living.”

“I’m afraid I’ve hurt you.”

“You couldn’t. You don’t have the power.”

“I believe I do.” A frown marred his brow. “I should never have kissed you.”

She bent to collect her blanket. Her hands were trembling. “What has that to do with anything?”

“It may have given you a false expectation—”

“You must think me a very green girl.” She gave the blanket a brisk shake before thrusting it into her basket. “That wasn’t my first kiss, you know.”

His frown deepened. It was very nearly a scowl. “Nor mine.”

“Well, there we are.” She looped her basket over her arm. “In any event, I’d hardly call it a kiss. It lasted all of two seconds. Scarcely worth remembering.”

“Is that so?”

Her stomach was trembling, as out of control as her hands. She was baiting a wolf, and she knew it. It was childish and stupid. But part of her wanted to hurt him, just as he’d hurt her. “I consider it no more memorable than a buss on the cheek from an aged uncle. Not half as memorable as the kiss I shared with George.”

His mouth curled into a slow, sardonic smile. “Remind me to teach you not to overplay your hand.”

She gave him an uncertain look.

“George?” His smile broadened. “Really, Laura?”

“He did kiss me.”

“And you slapped him across the face. ‘With all of your strength,’ isn’t that what you told me?”

It was her turn to frown. “You’re very smug.”

“A lady like you isn’t likely to fancy a fellow like George Wright.”

“What do you know of ladies like me?”

“Enough to recognize that you’d never lose your heart to a wastrel.”