In that moment, he had felt utterly stupefied as if a wall barricaded his emotions even from himself. Everything in him had resisted examining the question. He’d always dismissed love as a soppy sentiment out of the pages of the gothic novels his mother liked to read. In his youth, he’d had only Lord and Lady Godwin’s cold union as a model. Love was never anything he’d believed to be important in a marriage.

But now he wondered.

His passion for Natalie burned like an eternal flame. She had the candor, wit, and warmth he’d never known he needed in a wife. She stirred in him a profound yearning that absorbed his dreams both day and night. Without her, his future would be stark, for she possessed him, heart and soul.

He dragged in a shaky breath. By God, he did love Natalie. There could be no other explanation for this fierce devotion he felt. The unique nature of his feelings was not mawkish, but rather, a deep sense of certainty that she was his other half, that he could never be complete without her in his life. She deserved to know that. He wanted her to know.

Would it be enough to convince her to marry him, though? To give up her life in America? To overcome her distaste for the aristocracy? There was only one way to find out.

Beset by tenderness, he bent closer. “Natalie, I must tell you—”

“Oh no, look! Leo has the pistol!”

For the first time in his misbegotten life, Richard found himself staring down the circular barrel of a gun. He’d never had a taste for the danger and duels that attracted other gentlemen. Now, he sat frozen in his chair, still clutching his cards, while the enfant terrible pointed the pistol at him.

How the devil had the boy grabbed it so quickly?

He slid a panicked glance at Bert, who looked bleary-eyed from drink. “Don’t just sit there,” he hissed, “do something. Controlling him is supposed to be your job.”

“Now, little fella, that ain’t a toy.” The groom slowly reached out a meaty paw. “Give it over to yer uncle Bertie.”

“He’s my uncle, not you.” Leo pointed the loaded pistol from one man to the other. “I want to go home to Miss Fanshawe and Mr. Duke. Right now.”

“Stop waving that thing around,” Richard said, trying to inject command into his voice while ignoring his clenched innards. “You don’t know how to use a gun. It could go off by accident!”

“My papa taught me how to shoot when we lived in the woods. I even killed a squirrel once.” Leo cocked the pistol. “Bang!”

Gulping, Richard slid down in his chair. At this close range, the boy couldn’t miss. The thought made him dizzy, or perhaps that was the effects of the gin. “Rush him, Bert. He’s only six. What else am I paying you for?”

“Six or sixty, don’t matter. It’s still a bullet. Besides, I ain’t got even a ha’penny from ye.”