Page 115 of The English Duke
“Why should I? You’ve evidently already discovered it.”
“Is stealing theGoldfishworth losing my friendship?”
“It has nothing to do with you, Jordan.”
Reese’s words irritated him.
“Like hell it doesn’t. It has everything to do with me. I didn’t figure out the guidance system fast enough, so you had to steal Martha’s work. There’s no need for you to remain for the ceremony, Reese. I’d prefer you leave for London immediately. Without theGoldfish.”
Before Reese could say anything else, he left the room, heading down the stairs with greater ease of movement than he’d felt the day before.
He’d always believed he was an honorable man. Honor had been as near to him as his skin. He couldn’t peel it off and dismiss it when it became too onerous. He’d always believed that, given any set of circumstances, he’d choose the correct path.
He hadn’t acted that way around Martha.
His world had been shaken on its axis. He’d awakened in the middle of the night without the blinding headache, feeling refreshed, and, even better, out of pain.
Even half-asleep he’d known the truth long before he’d consciously accepted it. Why else would he have dreamed of her with such regularity over the past weeks? Why would he have felt a sense of acute loneliness on waking?
He’d known who she was immediately. It hadn’t stopped him from seducing her.
No, he’d definitely not behaved with honor around her, a fact he was going to rectify as soon as he took care of securing her torpedo ship.
Dawn lit the eastern sky, tinting it pink and blue, promising a fair summer day.
He headed in the direction of the stables. He hadn’t been around horses since his accident over a year ago. He carefully avoided the stables at Sedgebrook, but now, at Griffin House, he had no choice but to enter them.
It wasn’t that he’d developed an antipathy for horses. Yet every time he saw one, he couldn’t help but relive the moment when Ercole had refused to take the fence, and had, instead, thrown him onto it.
Today, however, was the perfect time to confront his weaknesses, especially if he was going to do the right thing, the proper thing, the act that honor itself demanded of him.
His future depended on what he did in the next few hours.
One day, he might walk without a limp. He might even be able to throw away the detested walking stick. If and when that day came, he wanted the rest of his life to be bearable. No, more than bearable. He no longer wanted to live a hermit-like existence. He didn’t want his life to feel shadowed and gray as it did when he took the elixir. He wanted to live wholly, completely, and experience happiness.
Perhaps he didn’t have as many talents as Simon. He knew he didn’t possess his father’s effortless conviviality, but neither was he a spendthrift. He didn’t ignore the future; he planned for it. In addition, he had the ability to focus and concentrate and apply himself to a situation and a problem until its answer was found.
He was dogged and determined and refused to quit. When Dr. Reynolds said he would never walk again, he hadn’t listened.
He was going to use that same determination today.
First, however, he was going to locate Reese’s carriage and retrieve Martha’s ship. Then, he’d take care of the rest of his life.
“Are you a bedlamite?” Josephine said, popping her head out from beneath the covers. “He almost caught me!”
“Jordan is too much a gentleman to insist on knowing the identity of my partner. Shouldn’t you be leaving? You have a role to play, that of innocent young bride.”
He tilted his head a little and inspected her in the most insulting way possible.
“Will you be able to manage the charade?” he asked. “However will you explain your expertise?”
“That’s nothing you have to worry about,” she said.
Sitting up, she didn’t even bother clutching the sheet to her bare chest. Let him look his fill. Today, as she married another man, let him wish the circumstances were different.
“You don’t love him,” he said.
“Love has nothing to do with this marriage. It doesn’t, in most cases. I simply found a way to advance myself. Do you fault me?”
