Page 126 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“Or knives slashing, as the case may be. What an amazing person she is.”
“Don’t tell her that. You’ll just encourage her.”
Lia couldn’t help laughing. “I have every intention of emulating her from now on. She was truly inspiring. As were you,” she hastily added when he lifted a sardonic brow.
“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me, my love,” he said.
She poked him in the ribs. “Don’t be silly. You were absolutely splendid. All you needed was a white stallion and the heroic picture would have been complete.”
“You were the true hero, Lia. You kept your head under the most horrific of circumstances and rescued yourself. Gillian and I merely mopped up after you.” He cupped her cheek, his gaze tender and full of emotion. “I’m beginning to think you don’t need me at all. I don’t like that part very much, which makes me sound like an insufferable coxcomb,” he added with a rueful smile.
His praise brought tears to her eyes. “Jack, you’ll always be my hero. Just think of all the times you’ve rescued me over the years.”
“Like the time you fell into the pond and I fished you out?”
“You pulled me into the pond, as I recall,” she protested. “After I pushedyouin.”
“Oh, right. Well, then, what about that time you stepped on that wasp nest and I carried you to safety?”
“Actually, youstepped on it, although I admit you did carry me to safety. But I was only five years old at the time. I couldn’t run as fast as you.”
He let out a dramatic sigh and nestled her back against his chest. “Clearly, I need to work a little harder at this hero business.”
“Perhaps Gillian could give you lessons.”
“What a horrifying idea.”
She chuckled, then turned serious. “Jack, what will happen to Prudhoe and the others?”
“That will be up to the magistrate and the courts, of course, but they all might hang,” he said in a somber tone. “God knows they deserve it.”
She couldn’t help cringing a bit. As much as Prudhoe and his men—and Mrs. Grace—had earned their fate, she hated that they might find their deaths because of her.
“It’s not your fault, love,” he said gently. “Only they are responsible for their actions.”
She breathed out a trembling sigh. Of course he would know what she was thinking—he always did. “If only I hadn’t gone to that stupid Cyprians’ ball. That started everything.”
He nudged up her chin, making her look at him. “And what would have happened to poor Amy if you hadn’t gone? You rescued her that night, too, remember?”
She blinked, startled by his response. He’d been so furious with her that night, and yet now he was praising her for going.
“Not that I want you making a habit of that sort of thing,” he added. “Let’s be clear on that.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said meekly, subsiding back on his chest.
His snort told her how little he was fooled by her manner.
“You are giving up on that idea, are you not?” he asked a few moments later, sounding doubtful. “The whole courtesan nonsense. You know it’s not the life for you.”
She sighed. “It’s not the life for most women, Jack. I’ve come to hate the entire sordid business. No woman should be forced to sell herself to survive. It’s disgusting and heartbreaking.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I agree entirely. And I’m greatly relieved that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life scaring off potential protectors and keeping you out of trouble. That would be exhausting for both of us.”
“Jack, what I’d really like to do is help some of these unfortunate women, perhaps assist Aunt Chloe in her work.”
“You don’t need to do that in London. There must be charitable organizations who assist such women in Yorkshire and would be happy to have the support of the Marchioness of Lendale. If not, you can start one.”
Lia hid her face in his cravat. “About that . . .” she said, her voice muffled.
