Page 95 of A Duke Changes Everything
“I do invest. Thanks to Iverson’s counsel, I usually do so wisely.” He drew in a long breath and let it out. “But I also earn money by lending to gamblers who’ve lost their funds and want to play on.”
“And they continue to lose?”
“Usually.”
“And then what?” Mina leaned forward, intrigued by how the process worked.
“Either they quit, which is rare, or they come downstairs and petition for a loan.” Nick’s jaw tightened and furrowed grooves appeared between his brows. “I require collateral, and often they lose what they promised. Noblemen become desperate when they lose.”
Mina sensed his unease. “It sounds miserable for everyone involved.”
“I used to enjoy it.” He quieted a moment.
“And now?”
“Something in me has altered.”
“For the better?” Mina’s throat tightened as she waited for his answer. She’d changed too. For the first time, she could imagine a life that had nothing to do with Enderley and duty. But now she also knew she couldn’t bear a future without love.
“For the better,” he repeated.
Mina smiled and settled back against the squabs as he watched her. An idea came, a wild, half-formed notion, that she couldn’t keep inside. “What if no one had to lose?”
In the soft glow of the carriage lamp, Mina saw the flash of his grin.
“A happy ending for all? Like in a fairy tale?”
“A much more practical ending.” Mina thought of Colin and the collection of guests at Mr. Iverson’s party. “What if the men, or women, for that matter, who came to petition you for funds had something to offer in return? An invention. An idea that could turn a profit?”
“My God, Iverson’s gotten to you, hasn’t he?” Nick leaned forward, a frown hardening the edge of his jaw. “Exactly how much time did you two spend together?”
“Not much.” Mina laughed. “But you’ve seen fit to assist the tenants in Barrowmere village. Why not the entrepreneurs of London?”
“I don’t know. I’ll consider it.”
Mina could sense his eagerness to be done with the topic. He turned toward the carriage window and watched intently, but there was little to see beyond an endless line of whitewashed townhouses.
The one topic that weighed on her mind was the one she didn’t know how to broach with him. They fell silent, so quiet she could hear his breath coming ragged and uneven. She counted the beats of her own heart, slamming heavily in her chest.
His profile was familiar now, but no less breathtaking. She had the urge to run a line with her fingertip from his brow to the tip of his nose to those delicious lips.
He seemed to sense her watching him and shifted on his bench. Turning away from the window, he subjected her to a slow perusal, from her boots to her waist, breasts, lips—all the places he’d kissed so attentively—and then back down her legs again.
“You’re sure your ankle is better?”
Mina nodded and bit her lip. She couldn’t bear two hours of being cool and polite to each other. “Nick—”
“This isn’t right, you know?”
“Tell me why you think so.” He felt it too. She didn’t know if that made it better or worse.
“You’re too far away.” He reached out a bare hand. “Last time we were in a carriage together, you were closer.”
Her body responded as if she was already there, in his lap.
Mina took his hand, and he pulled her up and across the space between them. Rather than sit across his lap, Mina ruched up her skirt and positioned her knees on either side of his thighs, so that they were face-to-face, chest to chest.
Sentiments bubbled up. Words she wanted to say, but she had no notion where to start. So she held him instead. Resting her head against his chest, she curled her fingers around the edge of his waistcoat and listened to the strong, insistent beat of his heart.
