Kit, who’d once upon a time watched helplessly while Harry collapsed into unconsciousness in his arms, never wanted to see that again. He’d stop it. He’d protect Harry. Somehow.
He said, “I love you, you know,” and put his hand over Harry’s, on his arm. “You don’t have to try to make me happy.”
“I know,” Harry said. “I want to. I love you. And I don’t really care about balls and parties and any of that. I don’t, honestly; I like the theatre and I like shopping, but I’m really a country estate manager at heart. I don’t know the latest dances or fashions or whether I’m supposed to escort a duchess or a marquess into supper. I like people, but I’m dreadful at polite manners.”
“I know you had private tutors.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t listen much. I was never going to go out into Society an
