Page 38 of A Modest Independence

“Oh—!”

“I know you don’t like to hear it, but it’s true. You’ll have an easier time of it now that I’m with you.” He uncorked the bottle of wine. “And I’ll have an easier time as well.”

Her blue-green eyes kindled. “Men generally do.”

“Undoubtedly. However, in this case, I’ll have an easier time of it because I can keep an eye on you. I won’t be stuck back in London, sitting in my office, imagining all of the dreadful things that might have happened to you had you ventured out on this adventure alone.”

“And for this small peace of mind, you’re willing to upend your entire life and accompany me around the globe?”

“Who said it was small? Besides, it’s not forever. I’ll have to return to London eventually.”

“When?” she asked. “After we find out what happened to Giles?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. For the first time in his life, he’d been impulsive. He hadn’t planned things out to the last degree. There’d been no time to strategize. No opportunity. All he’d known was that she was leaving and that he must do something. Anything.

There were no pressing legal matters to constrain him. For years, the tortuous case between the Viscount Atwater and the Earl of Warren had formed the bulk of his practice. Now that it was settled at last, Tom’s immediate future was his own to do with as he wanted. And what he wanted was to be with Jenny.

“So this journey with me is nothing but an interlude. A time out of time. In other words, not part of your real life at all.”

Tom’s hand stilled on the wine bottle.

“But it’s part of my real life. Indeed, it’s just the beginning of it. I meant what I said about not coming back. If the mood strikes me, I may very well remain in India or Egypt or even here in France. Can’t you understand? I feel as though I’ve walked through a door. Until two days ago, I’d only ever caught glimpses of what lies beyond it. And now that I’m here—now that I’ve passed through to the other side—I can’t imagine ever going back to all that bleakness and misery.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

“Perhaps not, but it’s how I feel about it.”

“Why should you? You’re not a companion anymore. You’re a woman of means. There’d be nothing bleak about your settling in London or somewhere in the English countryside. Nothing miserable about remaining close to your friends.”

“Haven’t you ever wanted a fresh start?”

“One needn’t move thousands of miles away to start anew. Trust me, the world’s not that much brighter on this side of the door.”

“Not to you. You’ve existed here your entire life.”

“Not quite my entire life, but I take your meaning. You’re restless and dissatisfied. I won’t minimize such feelings. But I warn you, these far-off vistas you crave are likely nothing more than a mirage in the desert. They only dazzle when you view them at a distance. An unknown place in some distant land can’t undo the tragedies of the past. If it could, we’d all be travelers, spending our natural lives on steamer ships and trains.”

“And yet,” she said, “my future is my own. My travel plans mine and nobody’s else’s. You won’t force me to return to England simply because it’s your idea of what’s right and proper.”

“I’ve no intention of forcing you to do anything.”

“And you won’t employ any of your legal tricks to try and persuade me?”

“Legal tricks, Jenny?”

“You know precisely what I mean. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because he knew exactly what she meant. He had, in fact, planned to ply her with arguments. To weaken her resolve. To convince her to come home once her adventure was over. Back to England where a future between them might actually be possible.

It was the same manner of manipulation he employed against his adversaries. Zealous advocacy administered so subtly, so smoothly, that they were often left believing the idea he’d argued for was their own.

I’d rather you not do that to me, Jenny had said this morning.

A twinge of guilt pricked at Tom’s conscience.

She didn’t want to be managed and manipulated. Not by him. Not by anyone.

If he wanted her in his life, he couldn’t win her with plotting and trickery. He would have to win her on his own merits. Not as a solicitor, but as a man.