“Is this why you need a suitable lady at your side?” she asked.

“It is,” he said. “Very much so.”

The fountain trickled behind them in a melodic splash of water.

And Julia knew—she simply knew—that that lady wasn’t her. Not because she’d told him so, but because he’d discovered it for himself. It’s why he hadn’t come to her when she’d arrived in the ballroom. Why he hadn’t appeared to claim a dance with her or offered to bring her a cup of punch.

He’d admitted to having seen her. If he had wanted her company, he’d have sought her out. Nothing would have stopped him. But he hadn’t. Not until he’d felt honor bound to save her from Lord Gresham.

The realization should have been enough, but a small vulnerable part of herself demanded she verify it absolutely.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. “At the ball, I mean.”

“Since half ten.”

“I didn’t see you. Were you in the cardroom?”

He looked at her, something inexplicable in his eyes. “I was with Miss Throckmorton.”

Julia had suspected it already. Indeed, she had nothing to reproach him with. She’d told him they didn’t suit. Had asked him to stop pursuing her. Nevertheless . . .

His admission hit her like a blow.

Only last night she’d confessed that she wished to know him better. And he’d promised her she would.

What had changed his mind?

Was it something she’d said during their ride this morning? Some foolish remark or awkward gesture?

Or was it merely that Miss Throckmorton’s dowry was greater than her own?

Julia wasn’t aware of the exact amount the wealthy toffee heiress was worth, but it must be substantial to tempt Captain Blunt. He’d made no secret that money was his primary concern.

“I thought you might be,” she said, forcing a smile. In moments such as these, a lady had little left but her dignity. She was resolved to hold fast to it. “I like her. She’s far more suitable for you than I ever was.”

“Miss Wychwood.” Captain Blunt’s voice deepened. “My admiration for you—”

She inwardly winced. “Please don’t. You needn’t. I’m not sad or disappointed. I’m happy, you see. It’s enough for me to have become your friend, and to know you’ve changed your life for the better. How could I ever be sad knowing that?”

“I hope we are friends,” he said.

Her smile wavered. She didn’t know how much longer she could sustain it. “Yes. We are.” She rose from the bench. The urge to escape swelled within her. “Thank you again for coming to my aid.”

He stood, frowning at her, as if he had something else he wished to say. Some kind remark, no doubt, meant to soothe her injured pride.

She wanted to flee and save herself the humiliation. But she couldn’t run. She was frozen to the spot, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m sorry about Gresham,” he said at last. “And I’m sorry you had to see me like that, looking fierce, as you said. I—” He broke off, only to continue gruffly, “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”