Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)(86)

But.

There was always a but. And this one sank sharp needles deep in Jenny’s chest.

“And what,” she said slowly, “will I do with the other twenty-two hours of the day?”

“Pardon?”

“I assume you’ll devote no more time to Jenny Keeble than Gareth receives. Gareth gets his two hours of scientific work in the morning. What do I get at night?”

“Jenny. You know I can’t give more. It’s my responsibility, and I cannot give it up—”

Jenny shut her eyes. Deep down inside her, that strong stillness she’d found waited. And no matter how much her heart cried out to go to him, that quiet center of strength did not recede.

“I want,” she said, “my integrity. I don’t want to be bought.”

She stepped back. This marble tomb was just another form of abandonment—another way that a man could put her off in perpetuity. It reduced her longing for family and independence to a stark figure. The number of pounds it took to purchase a house in town. The number of minutes Gareth gave her. She would be nothing more than another column in his account books.

Account books could be closed, and entire columns could be set aside.

His mouth parted. He reached for her.

Jenny shut her eyes against stinging tears. “I don’t want you to buy me. I want you to live. I don’t want to be another one of your responsibilities. I want to be your—”

Your family.

She couldn’t say the word. But he took her meaning instantly. “I can’t,” he breathed.

Beneath wet lashes, she saw him turn away and grip the door frame.

“You want me to call you Gareth,” Jenny said. “But Lord Blakely will always be between us. His responsibility. His estate. And now you’re trying to make me his mistress. Do you really think—after all you’ve known of me—that you can buy me with money?”

“It’s all I have to give.”

Jenny opened her eyes fully. He was facing away from her, the muscles of his back taut.

“No.” Her words sounded thin and metallic in her ears. As if she stood at a great distance from herself. “It is all you are willing to give. You hide behind money and responsibility.”

He whipped around, his eyes flashing angrily. “I’m not hiding.”

“You are. And you want to hide me, too. Well, I’m not having it. You can’t purchase me with numbers or persuade me with logic.”

He inhaled fiercely, his nostrils flaring. “Ask for anything else. And don’t you tell me about hiding. You’re the one who cringes when I talk of adoration and need. You won’t even let yourself depend on me for this one little thing.”

“No. If you want me,” Jenny said desperately, “trade yourself.”

“Damn you, Jenny,” he snapped. “It’s not a fair trade.”

Jenny’s world turned to crystal, all cold sharp edges. Brittle, and teetering on the brink of some high precipice. He needed her. He wouldn’t give up his responsibility. But responsibility—that benevolent word encoded a malign sentiment.

Hire an estate manager, she’d suggested. He’d responded with, Who would I trust? I was born to this. He’d been taught all his life he was better than everyone else. That careless assumption of superiority left him unable to relinquish either duty or dominance.

“Not a fair trade.” The words cut her lips as she repeated them.

He was angry. He felt betrayed. And he did never manage to say the right things. But only half of that could be attributed to underlying awkwardness. This time, he’d meant what he said.

“If I’m not a fair trade,” she forced herself to say, “it’s because you don’t think I am worth as much as you.”

And why would he? He’d been taught all his life she wasn’t.

“Really, Jenny,” he drawled. All emotion had washed from his voice—a sure sign, Jenny knew, that he was too caught up in hurt to dissemble. “Be rational. Who would think you my equal?”

“I can think of one person.” Jenny squared her shoulders. Her throat ached. She met his eyes, dead-on, without flinching. “Me.”

His eyes widened and he reached for her wrist, but he moved as if through honey. Jenny stepped back, evading his hand. His glove fell as he stretched for her. It hit the floor with a hollow thump.

“Don’t go.” His words resounded in the cavernous room. “I didn’t—”

He caught himself, and Jenny knew that same implacable honor prevented him from finishing that lie. Because he really had meant it. And without once saying goodbye, he’d managed to abandon her in every way that mattered.

Jenny backed away. When she judged there to be enough distance between them, she turned and walked swiftly to the door. Her footsteps echoed all the way out the foyer, but his did not sound in pursuit.

CHAPTER TWENTY

GARETH FELT as if he had aged twenty-four years in the twenty-four hours since Jenny had left.

He stared listlessly out the window as White droned on. The man’s voice was almost soothing. It was difficult to focus on the concepts—farming improvements. Agriculture. Portraits.

Instead, he nodded his head and shut his eyes. He’d nothing to hold on to but this responsibility. It would eventually expand to fill the void.