Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)(93)

Jenny had been right. It was lonely being superior to everyone.

Gareth glanced at Mr. Sevin, who quivered in frustrated fury. And he amended the thought. It was lonely being superior to everyone, but there was real joy in being superior to some people.

And yet the moment was far from perfect. He turned to Ned, and suddenly he felt like begging. He swallowed dryness. “Any chance you’ll relent?”

Ned’s pleasure evaporated, and he shook his head slowly. “I have to do what’s best for her. And I am sorry, but it is not you.”

“NED, WHERE ARE WE GOING?” Jenny asked for the third time.

It was her last day in England. London had been left behind nearly half an hour ago. The horses clopped lazily down a dirt road, spumes of dust trailing merrily in their wake. Light clouds obscured the direct sunlight, but let a hazy, insubstantial warmth shine all around.

“D’you remember my friend Ellison? The one from the hell who wanted to put his lions up as stake?”

Jenny shook her head.

“Well, he still has them. I figured it was time for a picnic by the menagerie.”

“And you brought me? Why not take the woman you’re marrying?”

Ned shrugged. “She’s grown up with the Duke of Ware. Lions seem less ferocious. Today, it’s just the two of us. As it should be.”

He jiggled the reins and the horses turned off the main road. They trotted down a narrow path, no more than heavy wheel-ruts carved through the grass.

After a while, Jenny spoke again. “Don’t the lions get miserable in the English clime?”

“I suppose. They’re caged, too. Would they nab Ellison for poaching if we opened up the cage and they went after the King’s deer?”

Jenny looked skeptically around the flattish meadow. “Deer? I think they’d pull down the horses. Or you.”

Ned shook his head happily and pulled on the reins. The horses halted. They’d stopped outside a small cottage. In the distance, two large barns loomed. Jenny supposed a barn was as good a place as any to keep a lion’s cage. But at the thought of those great beasts, the hairs on the back of her neck twitched. At any moment, she could be bowled over by some large, stalking cat.

“Here,” Ned said, handing her a basket. “Go set up behind the cottage while I see to the horses.”

“By myself?”

“Yes, by yourself.”

“Near the lions?”

Ned grinned as he unhitched the horses. “Near the caged lions, yes. You’re not afraid, are you? You’d better rethink your travel plans. I hear that lions roam the wilds of Cincinnati with surprising regularity.”

Jenny took the basket and walked. She’d miss Ned. She was going to miss England—dreary, clouded England. It was all she’d ever known.

And she already missed Gareth.

But, she mused, what she missed in him wasn’t just his presence. It was his potential. Those rare moments when he smiled. When he stopped using Lord Blakely as a tool to smite the mere mortals who incurred his wrath. If he’d been a farmer in Cincinnati or a tradesman in Brazil…

Jenny shook her head free of all foolish thoughts and set the basket down behind the small cottage.

A thick blanket covered the provisions in the basket. She was laying it on the ground when she heard the sound behind her. Quiet and careful; prowling. Her shoulder blades itched, as if it really were a lion she heard behind her, instead of a man’s steps.

She turned, slowly, and swallowed.

She’d prefer the lion. She’d rather sharp claws rip into her than feel this pain slam inside her once again. Just looking at Gareth, she remembered what he’d said. Who would think you my equal? Those hurtful words were still embedded in her, like bits of shrapnel no surgeon could remove.

Well, he didn’t look so superior now. What he looked was miserable.

And ridiculously handsome, his sandy brown hair tousled, his cravat askew. A blue bruise decorated his jaw. And there were his eyes—that startling golden brown. He could well have been a large predator, so intent was his gaze on her. She could have been his prey, so much did she want to give in to him.

“Ned,” Jenny said. “Ned is responsible for this. I will shake him.”

He winced. “I convinced Ned to give me one last chance. I know you won’t give me one—you have every reason to despise me. But—listen—just—” He broke off and fumbled in his pockets. He pulled out a sheet of crinkled paper and handed it to her. “There.”

Jenny smoothed out the crumpled wad. “What is this?”

“Title,” he said, “to what’s inside the barn.”

“I already told you, you can’t buy me.”

His eyes raised to hers. “I know,” he said softly. “There isn’t enough money in all the world. But I’m begging you to let me—let me—” He scowled and scuffed his feet.

Jenny’s stomach turned over very slowly. Her toes curled inside her slippers.

“Just go inside,” he whispered.

She crossed the cropped grass and pulled open the heavy door. It creaked and sent a cloud of dust, woody with a hint of mold, whooshing around her. When she stepped inside, the temperature of the air dropped ten degrees. The familiar odor of clean hay met her. But there was a smell unlike anything she’d ever experienced. A whiff of acidity touched her nose, followed by a sweet, warm scent. Lions?