“Nothing to compare with exposing the legendary Harmsworth Jewel as a fraud.”
No, nothing like that. Such discoveries were unique. But how could she regret saving Richard from hurt? Her hand shaking, she placed the jewel on one of the heavy mahogany tables that filed down the center of the long room. “Take it. Do what you originally intended. Use it to compel the world’s respect.”
“A jewel can’t earn me respect. Since I’ve come to Little Derrick, I’ve learned the world’s opinion doesn’t matter to me. Only yours does.”
She turned back, blinking away tears. “You have my respect. You know that.”
In his pale face, his mouth was stern. “I can’t let you do this, Genevieve.”
“You have no right to let me do anything,” she snapped. Antagonism was easier to handle than devastation. Right now, perhaps it was true that all he cared about was her love. But that wouldn’t last. Not when he returned to his glittering ballrooms and society friends. Then he’d hate that she’d exposed him to fresh mockery.
Perhaps, God forbid, he’d even come to hate her. She couldn’t endure that.
His eyes narrowed. “Do you want to fight about this?”
“There’s nothing to fight about.” She glared at him and raised her chin defiantly. “My mind’s made up.”
She waited for more arguments, but he stared at her as if she was a stranger. His closed expression cut sharper than a knife.
“Well, that’s it, then,” he said in a clipped tone. “Of course, your decision is the only one that counts. Yet again, the independent, self-sufficient Miss Barrett goes her own way.”
She recoiled at the bite in his tone, but couldn’t back down. “I’m a woman alone. I have to make my own decisions.”
How in heaven’s name had everything come to this? Only a few moments ago, he’d held her in his arms.
“If you’re alone, it’s because you want it that way.” The muscle flickered in his cheek, always sign of strong emotion, and she realized that in trying to save him from hurt, she’d hurt him.
She stood silent, unable to summon words insisting that she didn’t want to be alone, she wanted to be with him. Yesterday Richard had told her that he loved her and she thought she’d never feel lonely again. Today she stared at him across an impassable gulf and felt lonelier than she ever had in her life.
“I have to go to London with Cam.” He stalked toward the table. His voice was unemotional, as if he’d never called her his darling. The knife stabbed deeper. “He’s in this mess because of my dashed stupidity. There will be questions about Fairbrother, legal issues.”
He paused and she wondered if he meant to make some conciliatory gesture. Her hands curled at her sides as she fought the urge to reach after him and tell him she’d do whatever he asked. In this case, what he asked would injure him. She couldn’t countenance that.
Genevieve turned away and stared out the window at Leighton Court’s elaborate gardens. Although tears prevented her from seeing them. Was this how everything ended? A few sharp words and Richard retreating to London, and with that, the joy was done?
He continued, still in that same neutral tone. “Promise that you won’t do anything until you hear from me.”
“I can’t wait. Dr. Partridge is preparing to publish.” She struggled to match Richard’s uninvolved manner, but her voice emerged raw with misery. “I won’t change my mind. As I said, this is purely up to me.”
After a weighty pause, he answered. This time even his well-practiced nonchalance couldn’t hide the anger vibrating under his words. “As you wish.”
Dear Lord, it wasn’t as she wished. She turned to ask Richard to wait, to beg him to let her explain, although surely he must know the reasons for what she did.
He was gone. Her gaze fell upon the library table. He’d taken the Harmsworth Jewel.
Richard was halfway to London before his temper eased enough for his mind to make sense of this morning’s disaster. He didn’t see Genevieve before leaving. He’d dashed off a note to Cam saying he’d be in London, then he’d returned to the vicarage for his carriage and a change of clothes. The phaeton now hurtled east at a pace that sent the mud flying.
How dare Genevieve sacrifice her dreams for him? He wanted to give her a good shake and tell her to wake up to herself. He wanted to kiss her into a stupor until questions of right and wrong no longer mattered.
But after several hours of furious driving, he began to see that she’d made the offer out of love, foolish girl. It was an act of such wholehearted generosity, he could hardly comprehend it.
Gratitude made him no more likely to accept her self-denial. Genevieve underestimated how she’d changed him. His old misguided self had crouched behind an imperturbable façade. Now that Genevieve loved him for the man he was, the world’s derision had lost its sting.
He’d damn well show her that in loving Richard Harmsworth, she gave up nothing. One hand slid into his pocket to touch the Harmsworth Jewel. He no longer needed it to shore up his pride, but the trinket would yet prove its value.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
First Genevieve noticed the dog.