Page 39 of Sir Durham’s Disarming Asset

“No.” Zeph rebelled. He had something terrible to impart. She wouldn’t like it. Not a bit. She had had too many hours with him not to note when he was about to present his point of view and demand she adhere to his plans. Whatever they were this time, she predicted she would not like them. Nor would she follow them. “What do you want of me?”

His unfathomable eyes lit with flames of desire. But in a second, his black lashes covered them all.

Angry, disappointed at that, she gritted her teeth. “What?”

“I am as thrilled as you at the knowledge that you have easily established your identity. Your inheritance and your wealth would be a boon to anyone, woman or man. But to you, who have been denied so much, this is a blessing.”

He took a breath.

She took umbrage. “I hear the negative coming.”

“Sixty thousand is an enormous sum of money. Many can claim great wealth and receive but one-fifth of that.”

She fumed. “You are afraid I will spend it all on fripperies? I do like ribbons. I also like parasols, but how can I buy so many to eat up sixty thousand pounds?”

He put up a hand.

“Rafe, get to your point.”

“Your life will change as a result.”

“Why?”

“People will learn. I cannot say precisely how. Perhaps they will never learn the amount, but they will ask. They will speculate. Others who knew your father may speak of his business, his plantation and his crops. He might have even spoken of you as his only heir. I doubt you can understand the full of it. But I do. And I do not like it. But I cannot stop it. I can only make the future easier for you to manage. And truth be told, you do need to begin your command of London Society immediately.”

She tipped her head. Sarcasm blossomed even more in her heart. “Wonderful. The next candidate to become my companion arrives in a few minutes. I shall accept her and we shall go forth, swords drawn, to conquer Society.”

“Zeph, stop.”

She sat, perfectly relaxed in the chair, her arms to the rests, her long fingers curled over the edges of the sculpted walnut. She had no idea what was about to confront her, change her, demand wild and wonderful things of her. But she would weather it all. The question was: did Rafe see it in him to weather it all with her?

He would contribute to that. He had already. For the measure of how well she had recovered from the assaults on her person in Paris was how she had not shied away from men lately. She marveled at her own new savoir faire.

She had the mad compulsion to shoot to him, pull him close. One more time. One charming moment more before…

“Your wealth changes your life.”

Warned by his dire tone, she cocked her head. “Not if I don’t allow it.”

“You can control some of it, but not all.”

She scowled. “Of course I can.”

“The ton is very greedy. They will want you at every rout, every garden party, every ball.”

“I bring nothing new to them. A woman with money.”

“Heiresses abound. Usually they come laden with family, historical proclivities toward certain politics, and a set of opinions about how they should act as single and married women.”

“And I?”

“You have a different set of circumstances.”

“They distinguish me from others? Good. I wish not to be like any others.”

Now his green eyes turned dark with fear. “You are American. With property and income from that land.”

“I will deal with that. At the moment, I know not how or when. Though I hate to consider drowning in anything more than a teacup, I will one day head to Virginia. My father’s slaves—poor souls born into their conditions—must be freed. I know not how to do that, but I will. I will. I always knew if they were mine, I would free them.”