There are dozens of maps in here. She lay them out upon the desk, but they were so numerous, their edges overlapped, a world folding in on itself. She wanted to spend hours studying each and every one. She could barely comprehend any of it.
Are there enough? I can get more.
She stared at him. This is ... this is ... Her voice trailed off. You have given me the world. Beyond that, with the maps, he had brought her the rational word, banishing fear.
They please you. Pure male pride illuminated him, and he seemed to grow even taller.
Please is too mild a word. Leo, you overwhelm me. It was more than the expense, though she knew the price to be astronomical. He had heard her, listened to her. There is no gift equal to this.
Good. His gaze was warm as he trailed a finger along the line of her jaw.
I have something for you, too.
His brows rose, and he looked almost comically surprised. For me?
It isnt half so extraordinary as what you have provided, nor as numerous. But ... She reached into her pockets. Guess which hand.
After a moments deliberation, he picked her left hand. She held it out.
Three shillings seven, he said, counting the coins.
From Lord Daleford. Now pick the right hand.
He did. Two shillings thruppence.
From Lord Kirton.
Leo stared at her hands, then up at her face, his expression one of wonderment. You did it.
She nodded. I must own, it was rather ... exciting, finding a means of extracting the coins. Rather cunning of me. Her cheeks heated, and she studied him. They please you, she echoed.
More than please me. He laid his palms over hers, covering them and the coins. For a moment, his gaze went far-off, as if briefly distracted by a thought or memory, but they quickly cleared, and all he seemed to see was her. Im more than overwhelmed, Anne. Im ... humbled.
It shocked her, the truth of his words. She thought nothing and no one could ever breach his pride, this fierce man who admitted no weakness, no impediment. Yet a handful of coins had done just that. She had done it.
I dont want you humble. She threaded her fingers with his, so their hands clasped. I want you precisely as you are.
His eyes closed; his jaw tightened. Something passed through him, a wave of ferocious energy, and an answering power responded in her. In silence, they called out to each other. In silence, they responded.
He opened his eyes. What she saw thereher breath caught. Leo, the man. Without ramparts, fortifications, constructed identities. The saddlers son.
This was the finest gift of all. Not expensive maps and globes, but him. She understood that she alone had ever seen him this way. And it appeared to frighten him a little.
Observe. She pulled out a map. The last a map I saw of North America was Mitchells, over eight years ago. There are far more places with names between now and then.
Apprehension dimmed in his gaze. The spread of civilization.
In your case, she said, smiling, new opportunities for investment.
I ought to invest in cartography. He studied the boundaries delineated on the map. For all this will change with the end of the war with France. Will you take a commission?
Anne laughed. I have merely an appreciation for mapmaking, not an aptitude.
His gaze flicked up to her. Ill hire men to teach you, if you desire.
She laughed again, thinking he jested, but saw his sincerity. Studying them contents me. If you wish to have a map drawn, it would be far wiser to engage an experienced cartographer.
As you wish. But if you change your mind, youve but to say the word. He bent
to examine the map once more. She stared at his lowered head, his hair pulled back into a simple queue, yet burnished as gold.
He would give her everything, just as she would hold nothing back from him. She believed herself utterly open to him, yet she knew this was not entirely true.
She had not informed him of Lord Whitneys letter, and its secret lay in her heart like a waiting poison.
Chapter 9
Now, he strode down Lombard, the sun still high. It had been a good days work. Between his own instincts and his visions of the future, he would net himself a very fine profit. But he had not been working entirely on his own. Anne provided him with a steady stream of coins from Englands most ancient and esteemed families. Lord Kirton, who had publicly called Leo a baseborn scoundrel, would find his investment in South American coffee to be a poor one after hurricanes destroyed his crops. Leo had counterinvested in another coffee harvest. His fortunes would rise, and Kirton would suffer.
Leo walked quickly toward home, barely hearing the tolling of Saint Mary-le-Bows bells. Over the past week, since he and Anne had consummated their marriage, he had become a man on a rack, torn between two needs.
Building his fortune, destroying his enemiesthese were the demands of the day. He awoke every morning in a fever of impatience, needing to devastate those in his path, to have more. It fueled his daylight hours, like tinder thrown upon flame, yet the fires demands never ceased. He wanted his coffers overflowing, and the power to crush those who opposed him, consigning them to a life of humiliation and poverty. The greater his fortune, the more power he wielded. And he would use it like a vengeful god.