“I knew it,” the duke said grimly. “Send someone reliable over to my brother’s stable, Marsh. No, better yet, go yourself. I want to know exactly who has had access to that curricle during the past few days. Especially yesterday and last night. Deuce take it, but surely both he and his groom were careful enough to inspect the vehicle when it was to be used in a lengthy race.”
“I know you and I both would if it had been you, your grace,” the groom assured him.
He went on his way, and Jane found herself being scowled at.
“If you are planning to use those bandages,” he said, “forget it. I am not walking around with two mittened paws for the next week or so.”
“Those cuts will be painful, your grace,” she warned him.
He smiled grimly at her, and Jane sat back on the stool. She knew that his mind was distracted with the morning’s events and with anxiety for his brother’s safety. But the time had come. She could wait no longer.
“I am going to leave,” she said abruptly.
His smile became more crooked. “The room, Jane?” he said. “To put the bandages away again? I wish you would.”
She did not answer but merely stared at him. He had not for a moment misunderstood her, she knew.
“You would leave me, then?” he said at last.
“I must,” she said. “You know I must. You said so yourself last night.”
“But not today.” He frowned and flexed the fingers of his left hand, which was less badly scraped than the other. “I cannot cope with another crisis today, Jane.”
“This is not a crisis,” she told him. “I have had temporary employment here and now it is time for me to leave—after I have been paid.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “I cannot afford to pay you today, Jane. Did I not agree to give you the colossal sum of five hundred pounds for last evening’s performance? I doubt Quincy keeps that much petty cash on hand.”
Jane blinked her eyes, but she could not quite clear them of the despicable tears that rushed to them.
“Do not make a joke of it,” she said. “Please. I must leave. Today.”
“To go where?” he asked her.
But she merely shook her head.
“Don’t leave me, Jane,” he said. “I cannot let you go. Can you not see that I need a nurse?” He held up his hands, palms out. “For at least another month?”
She shook her head again and he sat back in his chair and regarded her, narrow-eyed.
“Why are you so eager to leave me? Have I been such a tyrant to you, Jane? Have I treated you so badly? Spoken to you so irritably?”
“That you have, your grace,” she told him.
“It is because I have been pampered and fawned over since my youth,” he said. “I did not mean anything by it, you know. And you have never let me browbeat you, Jane.Youhave been the one to browbeat me.”
She smiled, but in truth she felt like bawling. Not just because of the frightening unknown into which she would be going but because of what she would be leaving behind, though she had tried determinedly not to think of it all morning.
“You must leave here,” he said abruptly. “On that we are agreed, Jane. After last night it is even more imperative that you leave.”
She nodded and looked down at her hands in her lap. If she had hoped he would try harder to persuade her to stay on the slim excuse of his scraped hands, she was to be disappointed.
“But you could live somewhere else,” he said, “where we could see each other daily away from the prying eyes and gossiping tongues of thebeau monde. Would you like that?”
She raised her eyes slowly to his. She could not possibly misunderstand his meaning. What she could not believe was her own reaction, or lack of it. Her lack of outrage. Her yearning. The temptation.
He was looking steadily back at her, his eyes very dark.
“I would look after you, Jane,” he said. “You could live in style. A home and servants and a carriage of your own. Clothes and jewels. A decent salary. A certain freedom. Far more freedom than a married woman enjoys, anyway.”
