Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)(70)

That cream-and-red-striped gown Gareth had forced on her lay in place, wrapped in paper. She ran her finger down the smooth satin. It was finer than anything she’d ever owned. How much could she get for it? Ten pounds? Fifteen? She had no notion of the market for such things, having never purchased such a dress for herself.

Fifteen pounds. She could eke out an existence on that amount for over a year, if she found a bed in a rooming-house. But aside from the fact that it wouldn’t be fun or comfortable to do so, she couldn’t let herself admit the bare truth. If she stayed in London, it was for one reason only. For Gareth.

And there would be no Gareth if she took herself off to one of the places where she could survive on fifteen pounds a year. She might as well move to Morocco as far as he was concerned. His fastidious nature barely tolerated these rooms, clean and cozy as they were. A lodging-house, inhabited by cockroaches and lice, would have even less appeal for him than it did for her. As for finding one that allowed her gentlemen callers…Well, she could give up any hope of living at a decent address.

No. The fifteen pounds she collected from the sale of this dress would be a temporary solution only. Quarterly rent on these rooms. Fifteen pounds would give her time to investigate her loss at the bank more closely, to see if anything could be done to recover her savings. She would be able to think through her options carefully, rationally. Find some position, somewhere, without need for panic. It would see her through the three coming months of summer. Three months of his touch…She could honestly expect no more. Dung beetles, not dogs.

At the end, there would be enough left to take her away from London, if that’s what she decided.

It wasn’t what she’d hoped for in her most secret dreams. But there was, after all, a reason she kept those foolish desires secret.

FOUR DAYS of Jenny’s precious week elapsed. Three nights of Gareth’s touch. Four days spent walking the city. Reading advertisements. Trying to find some possibility for her future.

She’d spent four days hoping without reason, and she still had no answer to the question that burned inside her: how could she stay Gareth’s lover without becoming his mistress?

Her question was finally answered on the fourth evening. Gareth came to her rooms as he always did, at the point when the sun tinged the streets with red. He was dressed formally: black trousers and jacket, crisp white shirt and a yellow striped waistcoat with a silk cravat.

“Are you going somewhere tonight?” she asked.

He shrugged, more somber than usual. “Here. That’s all.”

“And do you plan to attend the opera in these rooms?”

“See here,” he said. “Just shut your eyes.”

She did, and lifted her face, expecting a kiss. Instead, his hands brushed wisps of hair off her shoulders. He reached behind her. And then heavy, cold orbs tumbled against her collarbones.

Her eyes snapped open as he hooked the clasp around her neck. She couldn’t see what he’d given her until she pulled the heavy stones away from her chest. Big sapphires, as thick as her thumb, linked together with intricately worked gold. The largest stone at the bottom twinkled a dark, clear blue where it hung in the valley between her br**sts. The necklace dragged around her shoulders.

The piece must have cost thousands of pounds.

It felt like it weighed thousands of pounds.

She fumbled at the clasp behind her neck. The hook eluded her.

“Take it off me,” she said. She was trembling, unable to think.

“You don’t like it.” He enunciated each word carefully, tasting them as if ascertaining that the wine had truly gone to vinegar.

“Of course I like it. It’s beautiful.”

But the neckline of her blouse was fraying. Against those gray threads, the sparkle of the stones seemed incongruous. She finally managed to unhook the necklace from about her neck. She dropped the messy tangle of jewels into his coat pocket. “I like it. But. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

How could she explain? Don’t cheapen this. Don’t turn this into money.

“Don’t pay me,” she finally whispered.

Perhaps what she meant was don’t tempt me. Because she never again wanted to be the kept mistress of any man, let alone this one. The stones choked her, silently screaming that she was his purchased thing, to be discarded at the very moment she became inconvenient.

He looked away. “It’s not money,” he finally said. “It’s jewels. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do in a circumstance like this? Buy you jewels?” His voice rumbled through her, dark and forbidding.

“What kind of a circumstance do you think this is? I don’t want things.”

A corner of his mouth turned down. “Damn. It’s all wrong again. I knew I should have asked White.” He looked at her. “Very well. I can’t give you furniture. I can’t give you jewels. Tell me, what am I allowed to give you?”

If things were simple between them, she would take his coin and his necklace. But what then? It was a trap. As soon as she took them, he would begin to despise her. It would put him in a superior position. And what could she hope for then?

Only that he continued to desire her even after he’d conquered. And that she could respect herself, when she’d let him reduce her to a pocketful of polished minerals.

He tipped her chin up. “What do you want, Jenny?”