She tilted her head, and then a slow smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. “But this is your passion!”
He thought to dismiss the notion, but she was not wrong. So much of his life had been steered by duty. Something else drove his work with The Society. “My great-grandfather was a founder.” Not all of Hunt’s forbearers had led lives for which he was ashamed.
“Ingenuity?” She tapped a strawberry at her lips. “Is that why you are so interested in Mister—my father’s business?”
“Partly.”
She bit into the fruit, which was deep red, juicy, and sweet. Just like her mouth…
She closed her eyes, savoring it. “Oh, but this is incredible.” Carefully setting the stem on the plate, she was oblivious to the fact that she’d once again managed to entrance him.
As she had from the beginning.
“What exactly does this society do?” she asked.
The Society…?
Ah, yes. “Many things, actually.” He valued the vastness of their research. It allowed members the freedom to take risks others never would. “We study ideas for innovation. We meet with inventors, perform experiments. Invest…”
He trailed off. He would have liked to invest the revenue from the sale of Longbow in his present endeavor. He’d have liked to have kept Longbow, to begin with.
“You said you don’t gamble, but I think you do.” Her brows furrowed, and before he and Allison stumbled into the subject of money again, Hunt explained his compulsion to pursue his work there.
“Whether it is their intention or not, men such as your father are forcing England to change her ways.” No matter how he imagined the future, the results of innovations loomed there. “And eventually, the aristocracy is going to have to change as well.” He was surprised to see her nodding.
“Our system relies on labor performed by the poor. And the poor haven’t had much choice but to accept the system,” she said.
“But the new industries will provide them with choices. Perhaps not in my lifetime, but eventually.”
“So best to look forward.” Her optimism radiated, damnit. And he found himself dismayed. Not because of her opinion, but because he wanted to hear more. In general, he wanted more of her.
He wanted to know her, layer by layer, her body and her thoughts. The stark image of joining his body with hers affected him on a primitive level.
Just this morning, he’d assumed that as her husband, he’d be allowed a lifetime to make love to her.
But sitting here now, knowing she was leaving, his need—his lust—was even more acute.
Dash it all.
He swallowed the remainder of his champagne and willed the blood in his cock to cool.
“What innovations will you be studying when you return to London?” she asked.
“Advancements in agriculture—the reaping machine poses all sorts of possibilities. I’m intrigued by the notion of a plowing machine. There is potential to double what can be accomplished by a few men. I’d like to interview a few new inventors. And I’m still keen to work with your father, despite…” He stopped himself and reached for the last berry. Rather than bite into it himself, he reached his hand across their plates. “Take it.”
Not out of consideration, but because he liked watching her eat.
A thousand possibilities buzzed between them. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. And she knew as well as he that this crackling awareness was more than physical.
It was almost unworldly.
She shook her head. “No, thank you.” Ignoring the fruit, she brushed her hair back but then also swiped her hand across her eyes.
He could make a joke, pretend he’d bored her to tears with his talk of intellectual pursuits. But he didn’t want to make light of that.
“I’m going to miss you.” His throat swelled. He had no pride where this woman was concerned.
“I’m going to miss you, as well,” she said, her voice tentative.
