Of course, she didn’t. Her sister-in-law had always had an uncanny ability to see right to the thick of things. Bronwyn felt the warning sting behind her eyelids, the pressure in her chest expanding until it was impossible to contain. “What do you want me to say, Ravenna? That I love him? That he does not love me? That he’s only here for duty’s sake?”

She burst into tears, the emotion—and the admission—too much to take.

Beyond her sharp, spiky feelings, she knew very well why Valentine was here. He’d never leave her unprotected in public.

“Oh, my darling,” Ravenna said, gathering her close, as much as her round abdomen would allow, and patting her back. Mortified at her loss of control, Bronwyn sniffed and reached for the handkerchief in her reticule. She hadn’t cried since she was a girl, and here she was turning into a veritable waterspout…over a man, no less. “You love him, then?” Ravenna asked.

“As much as anyone could love a mangy, feral dog who licks your hand only to snap at it the minute you let your defenses down.”

Ravenna laughed at her tone. “You’re definitely in love. What are you going to do about it?”

Besides throw her naked body at him? Bronwyn bit her lips. “Nothing. He’s not the marrying sort.”

“Isn’t he? Ashvale said he offered for you and you refused him.”

Bronwyn gave her a helpless look, ugly feelings churning in her belly again. Perhaps she should have said yes, allowed Valentine to be the hero he needed to be. He could marry to protect a supposed damsel in distress…but one mention of love and the man was gone. It was his out, Bronwyn realized. In a few years, he could say, You’re protected and safe, so now I can leave. By then, her heart would be inextricably wound up with his…and impossible to extract.

“He wanted to marry me as a safeguard.”

Ravenna stared at her, brows rising, compassion in her eyes. “I see. Not the right kind of offer, then. One of very logical convenience.” Clasping her hands over her belly, she inhaled a deep breath and perused the milling crowd. “You know many marriages start in strange places but get to where they need to be.”

“Not everyone has true love binding them together since childhood like you and Courtland.”

The duchess burst into laughter. “Not the case at all. I wanted to murder your brother on a daily basis. Still do. My point is our beginnings don’t always veer to where we think they’re going to go. Everyone’s path is different. Courtland and I might have been forced to the altar, but I wouldn’t have married him if deep down I didn’t know he’d be an excellent husband.” She patted her belly. “And father.”