Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

“Oh, Felix, that is clearly a ‘b.’ My. Dear. Little. Rabbit,” Kitty read aloud, jabbing her finger at each word.

Jeremy looked at Lucy. Lucy was looking at Sophia. And Sophia was clinging to Toby’s neck in wide-eyed terror. She bit her lip and gave Lucy a barely perceptible shake of the head.

“Give me that,” Henry said testily, leaving Aunt Matilda to his wife and reaching toward Kitty. Kitty reluctantly put the letter into his outstretched hand. Henry took it and shook the creases from the paper with a flick of his wrist. He lowered his torch to provide better reading light. “No wonder you can’t decipher it. This is Lucy’s handwriting. But it’s rabbit. Definitely rabbit.” He shook the paper again.

Jeremy looked back to Lucy. Now hers was the expression of wide-eyed terror.

“My dear little rabbit,” Henry read in a booming voice. “Forgive me, my darling.Darling?” He shot an amused glance over the paper and continued. “I regret our quarrel more than you could know. Sir Toby is nothing to me. You alone are—” He stopped reading and looked up at Lucy, eyebrows raised.

“Henry, stop,” she pleaded.

“You alone are my love,” he continued with a smirk, affecting a girlish tone.

“Henry,” Marianne warned.

Lucy looked to Jeremy, panic written across her face. Jeremy ran both hands through his hair. Damnation, this was like watching a rider thrown from a horse and being powerless to stop it. Helplessness roiled in his stomach like bile. What could he do? He couldn’t very well tell Henry it was Sophia’s letter. He would have to explainhow he knew it was Sophia’s letter, and he’d ruin two ladies in the space of one minute. Even he wasn’t that great a rake.

“I cannot forget you,” Henry continued in his high, mocking voice. “I think of you constantly by day, and your face fills my dreams each night.”

Jeremy frantically tried to recall the exact contents of the letter. Perhaps it wasn’t as damning as he remembered. Perhaps Henry would simply laugh and chalk it all up to girlish fancies.

“I long for you,” Henry crooned. “I long for your …” His grin faded. His mouth thinned to a line. “I long for yourtouch?”

Jeremy groaned. Damned they were.

Henry skimmed the remainder of the letter, muttering more damning phrases as he read. “I remember the warmth of your hands … When I taste wine, I remember … I shall await you tonight … Make me yours in every way …Cabbage!” Henry held up the paper and shook it at Lucy. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Henry, please,” she begged, shooting a glance toward Sophia. “Can we discuss this inside?”

“No, I think we had better discuss this now.”

Lucy shook her head. “Henry, you don’t understand. It isn’t real.” Her voice grew shrill with desperation. “It isn’t even mine!”

Sophia burrowed her head into Toby’s shoulder. Kitty clutched Felix’s arm with glee.

Lucy buried her face in her hands. Her shawl slipped off one hunched shoulder, and Jeremy watched the ridge of her neck shiver into gooseflesh. Damn Henry. She was cold and heartbroken, and Jeremy was incensed. It was all mixed up inside him—this need to protect her; the desire to possess her. Anger and lust wrestled in his chest, spurring his heart into a furious rhythm. He wanted nothing more than to go to her. Cover her. Warm her. He had no coat, but he had his body. He had his hands and his lips and his tongue.

“Well if this letter isn’t yours,” Henry demanded, “then whose is it?”

Jeremy strode forward, calmly took the letter from Henry’s hand, and said the only word that mattered. The word that had been echoing through his mind and his heart and an ebony wardrobe for the better part of a week.

“Mine.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lucy uncovered her face.No . He hadn’t just—

Oh, but he had.

Jeremy stood next to Henry, letter in hand, wearing an expression more grave and determined than she had ever seen him wear. And that was saying something.

Felix grabbed the letter out of his hand, laughing. “Good one, Jem. As if you’d ever be Lucy’s dear little radish.”

“Rabbit.” The low threat in Jeremy’s voice would have sent a hare bounding for its hole. He took the letter back, but in the next instant Henry had snatched it again.

“Oh come now, stop joking.” Henry smoothed the paper against the front of his coat and then held it before his face. “You honestly expect us to believe that Lucy is … your littlecabbage?”

Jeremy clenched his jaw. He briefly closed his eyes and opened them again. “I’m rather fond of cabbage.”

“Really?” Felix asked. “Terribly bland stuff, I’ve always thought. Of course, it’s not so bad when stewed with a bit of salted pork. Or pickled in brine, that’s all right, too. But—ow!”

Kitty removed her elbow from her husband’s side.

Lucy finally caught Jeremy’s gaze.“What. Are. You. Doing?” she mouthed.