“That’s just it,” answered Ann uncertainly. “I sometimes wonder if I could—ought to—” She broke off, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Lady Susan, apparently not noticing her embarrassment, gathered up her belongings preparatory to leaving the room.
“Marrying to reform a rake never pays,” she said in level tones. “It’s like rolling a stone uphill.”
“But Tony isn’t a rake!” protested Ann, flushing quickly. “There’s any amount of good in him, and he might—might steady down if he were married.”
“Let him steady down before marriage, not after”—grimly. “A woman may throw her whole life’s happiness into the scales and still fail to turn the balance. Without love—the love that can forgive seventy times seven and then not be tired—she’ll certainly fail. And you don’t love Tony.”
It was an assertion rather than a question, yet Ann felt that Lady Susan was waiting for an answer.
“N-no,” she acknowledged at last. “But I feel as though he belongs to me in a way. You see, Virginia ‘left’ him to me.”
“You’re not called upon to marry a legacy,” retorted Lady Susan.
Ann smiled.
“No, I suppose not.” She was silent a moment. “I wish Sir Philip didn’t lead him such a life. It’s more than any man could be expected to stand.”