Even if it was respectable, it would take him away from his wife, and wasn't that the entire point? He had no skills to speak of - it was difficult to imagine parlaying his talents at highway thievery into any sort of honest employment. A horse named Lucy, and a grandmother who, he was growing increasingly convinced, was the spawn of Satan. But what if there was no proof? What if there had been a church fire? Or a flood? Or mice? Didn't mice nibble at paper? What if a mouse - no, what if an entire legion of mice had chewed through the vicarage register?īut what did he have to offer her if he was not the duke? His parents had been married he was quite certain of that. It was too much.Īnd what if he wasn't the duke? He knew that he was, of course. What did he have to offer Grace? He looked up at Belgrave, looming over him like a stone monster, and almost laughed. "Now that's pathetic." Lucy was a prince, as far as horses went, but still, he was a horse. "My longest lasting attachment," Jack murmured to himself as he walked back to the house.
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