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Reaching a dripping outcropping of rock, he retraced his steps, his decision made. “Whatever happens, I want Cat gone. Today. Immediately.”
“You truly mean to let her go?”
Aidan kept his eyes upon the sea. Off the sympathetic concern he’d find in his cousin’s eyes. “There’s no reason for her to stay, is there?”
“There’s you.”
“No, Cat’s correct.” He faced Jack. Just as he’d suspected. Sympathetic concern by the bucket load. It set his teeth on edge. “I need money. Connections. Standing. All the things Miss Osborne can provide.”
“She’ll make a good wife,” Jack encouraged.
“Hmph.” The best he could muster.
“She’s beautiful. Clever. Sweet tempered.”
“The sale’s been made,” he groused. “You can stop hawking her like an auctioneer at Tattersalls.”
“You know in your heart there’s no future in Dublin for Cat. Nor anywhere. Not as your wife.” Jack continued to state the obvious. Almost as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Aidan. “They’d shred her for an evening’s entertainment. She’d be made to look ridiculous. Or shunned outright.”
An argument Aidan had already hashed out within his own mind. Still he raged. It kept him from facing the hole yawning wide as an open grave at his feet. Cat’s departure toeing him ever closer to the crumbling edge. “Can we stop speaking about her? When all this is over—”
When?
What was he talking about?
Try if.
If he defeated Lazarus. If he still lived. If the world had not toppled into anarchy. An awful lot of ifs between now and a future seeming almost as obscure as that far horizon.
He tried again. “When all this is over, I’ll pay a groveling call on Sir Humphrey Osborne. No doubt an earl’s suit, even an impoverished earl’s suit, will be looked upon with favor.”
Jack slanted a skeptical look in his direction. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.”
Fire ate at his belly. Clawed its way up his throat. “Damn it, Jack. You can take your thrice-damned enthusiasm and—” he breathed slowly. Gained control over the threatening fury. “Enough about my potential nuptials. Will you accompany Cat back to Dublin? See she arrives safely?”
“You aren’t—”
“Yes or no,” he snarled. “That’s all I need. Yes or no. Will you see her safe to Dublin?”
&nbs
p; His cousin offered a curt nod. “I’ll see her safe.”
They gripped hands. Shook on it.
“Do you think she’ll agree to go?” Jack asked.
“No. I don’t.”
“Then how do you plan on convincing her?”
Aidan hated even thinking about it. “Leave that to me.”
“Fine, but once she’s settled, I’ll be back,” Jack declared.
He would have laughed at this show of solidarity—so serious, so solemn, so completely un-Jack-like—if he didn’t know his cousin would be dead within seconds of any meeting with the soldier of Domnu.
“I’ll need more than luck, Jack.”
