Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)

“Not important at all.” She turned her head. “I j-just love him, that’s all.”


“Oh.” It was all Gareth could think to say. He’d expected her to list silly, inconsequential reasons for going forward with the ceremony. But he was too shocked to do anything but repeat himself. “Oh.”

“And that’s the problem.” Tears were openly streaming down her face. “I love you, and that’s never done me one bit of good. I’m never going to be good enough.”

He had only thought he was tongue-tied before. Now words deserted him utterly. The rational thing to do would be to keep silent, to dump her back at her home, in hopes that she would cry herself out in her own room. But she was here now, and weeping quietly into her skirts. And he had run away too many times, leaving her to believe she wasn’t good enough.

Touch is a circuit.

Gareth swallowed fear and awkwardness. He compressed them into a solid lump in his chest. And then he did something he’d never done before. He crossed the hired coach to sit beside his sister. And he put his arms around her.

She stiffened in shock. In those first delicate seconds, he almost pulled away. Then she folded into his embrace. To his surprise, he found that the cold really did flow out of him. And it didn’t go into Laura. Instead, her sobs quieted to soft hiccups. They thawed each other.

Newton would have been flabbergasted. This kind of energy was not conserved.

By the time her sobs quieted, he’d found the right words. “I learned how to balance accounts,” he said, “instead of how to be a brother. I’m not any good at it, although I’m trying to learn. But, Laura, I loved you from the first moment you pulled my hair. I always have.”

She inhaled sharply. She tilted her face up to his, her eyes wet and round.

“Now come,” he said. “Does your Alex love you back, or is he a hopeless idiot?”

“He loves me,” she said quietly. “But I’m afraid he’ll stop after we marry. He’ll change his mind. He’ll—”

“He’ll love you more. Trust me.”

“Really?” She was far too somber.

“Really.” He had no words to make her smile, and so Gareth tweaked her nose.

And she giggled.

It had been a long time since he’d laughed. But despite all those years, he still remembered how. What he’d forgotten was the lightness of his soul when he did so. The moment was perfect.

Almost perfect. One small corner of blackness coiled beneath his good humor. He recognized it for the unworthy creature that it was, but still it poked its head out, whispering darkness.

Men leave. Why should Jenny’s last comment sting so? It was no more than he deserved. And Laura, of all people, knew the truth of what she said. After all, he’d been leaving his sister since she was born, returning to his grandfather’s estate after every short visit.

He’d lost years of Laura’s life to the responsibilities of the marquessate. He’d likely lose Jenny, too. His title eventually devoured everything that mattered. But as he held his sister, he could not identify the purpose of it all. And that frightened him more than anything.

ONE HOUR PASSED as Jenny waited in trepidation. Then two. She could imagine all too well the cold castigation Gareth might heap on her head. He’d told her not to interfere. And what had she done? Interfered, and in the worst way possible.

Her own fear gradually gave way to anger. Jenny’s choices were dwindling with her remaining stock of coins.

The money Mr. Sevin had stolen would no doubt seem paltry to Gareth. But to her, that money had not been mere coin. It had been independence. Without it, she’d lost her ability to pretend Gareth was a lover, an equal, instead of the superior Lord Blakely. If she took his coins now, he would turn into another client, a person she’d have to please at the expense of her own feelings.

During the twelve years of Jenny’s career, the weight of Madame Esmerelda had closed around her, suffocating. She’d tailored every word she said. She’d listened to every fear that her clients brought to her, and under the guise of a false persona, had given the reassurances they wanted to hear in return. There’d been no room for Jenny Keeble.

A week of freedom from those stultifying confines had convinced her never to crawl back into that small space. And so she refused to beg Gareth for his good opinion. She’d lived that way once. She’d never do it again.

Gradually, her feelings came to a roiling boil. How dare he, after all? How dare he look down his nose at her for telling his sister she was strong? How dare he make Jenny feel smaller than an ant? She was his equal—or, at least, she wanted to be.