“What is in it for you, Lavinia?” he growled.
Her green eyes widened, all innocence and feigned compassion. “Can I not offer my assistance without expecting anything in return?
“No,” he said without hesitation.
“Fine.” For an instant, her façade slipped, revealing the ugliness lurking beneath the glossy veneer of polish and perfection. “If I can’t have you, then neither can some ill-bred American upstart.”
He stared incredulously at her. “You cannot bejealous. Our affair ended over four years ago.”
“But I still think about you, darling. Don’t you think about me and all the fun we used to have?” Her gaze took on a sensual gleam. “Do you remember that inn at Haymarket Square where we—”
“Enough,” he said loudly. “I remember everything, Lavinia. Including all of the lies you told.”
“A little exaggeration here and there,” she scoffed. “Hardly anything worthy of note.”
“You told me your husband beat you.”
“He did threaten to cut off my allowance.”
“You told me you were going to leave him.”
“Oh, darling.” Her voice dripping with sympathy, she leaned forward and patted his cheek. “We all say things under duress. But I could never leave Lord Townsend for acommoner. What sort of life could you possibly provide? Please, darling. We must be realistic about these things. That’s not to say we cannot enjoy ourselves.” Her hand slid lower, her thumb skimming along his jawbone. “In any manner of ways.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” he said tersely as he jerked out of her reach. Four years ago, her touch would have ignited a twisted feeling of desire inside of him. Twisted because he’d known it was wrong, but he had still wanted her. Or rather, he’d wanted the woman she’d been pretending to be. But now that he saw her for what she really was, he felt nothing but revulsion.
Lavinia’s mouth thinned. “Because of your red-haired American tart?”
“Do not speak of Joanna again,” he warned in a soft, silky voice that was far more dangerous than any yell or bluster.
Unfortunately, Lavinia did not heed his warning.
Scooping up her yapping rat, she held the fur ball pinned against her waist as she said, “When everyone learns who Joanna Thorncroft is, it won’t matter that she is illegitimate. It won’t even matter if the Duke of Caldwell acknowledges her or gives her the cut direct. She’ll still be beyond you, darling. You’re an unwanted orphan who left Scotland Yard in disgrace while she is the daughter of a marquess. Thetonis going to adore her.” Lavinia ran her tongue across her fangs. “Before they chew her up and spit her back out, that is. She doesn’t belong here. And she certainly doesn’t belong withyou. Find the girl’s ring, and let her return home. It is the least she deserves after what the poor thing has been through.”
Something inside of Kincaid tightened, like a clock spring drawn a tick too hard to the left. Sweat, cold and clammy, broke out along his temple. He swept it away with the back of his hand, but he couldn’t wipe away the knowledge that Lavinia was right.
He had spent all of this time trying to convince himself that hecouldn’tlove Joanna that he never stopped to consider if heshould.
What future could they possibly have together? If she remained here, with him, she’d be leaving her family and the only home she’d ever known behind. Not to mention the fact that she was practically royalty and he…he was exactly what Lavinia had said he was. An unwanted orphan who had left Scotland Yard in disgrace.
He could go with Joanna to America. But his work, hislivelihood, was here, in London. Dare he give it up and begin anew? What if he failed? What if he promised her the moon and was unable to give her even a star?
He couldn’t do that to her.
He wouldn’t.
Because happy people didn’t hurt those they loved.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning,Joanna was positively elated when Kincaid took her to Hyde Park, a 350-acre marvel of bridle paths, wooded trails, and memorial fountains. With Kensington Palace on one end and the Serpentine Lake in the middle, it was the largest green space in all of London. On the narrow footpath upon which she and Kincaid walked step in step, there wasn’t room for curricles or carriages. But on the main thoroughfare, they breezed past at a brisk pace, along with riders and pedestrians, all enjoying the crisp, cool morning air that only late August could bring.
The sky was a clear, flawless blue with nary a cloud in sight. From the branches of towering oaks, birds chirped a cheerful tune, their sweet melody echoing the joy that sang in Joanna’s heart.
As elated as she felt, it was a wonder she wasn’t skipping.
Or spontaneously bursting into song, even though she was completely and utterly tone-deaf. But that didn’t matter, because she was in love.
Not maybe in love.
