Her stare was unwavering. “I’m withdrawing my article.”
Shocked, he stepped back, bumping his legs against the edge of the seat. “What the hell is this?”
Her shoulders were as straight as a ruler. She looked like she faced a firing squad. “My article will harm you. I’m not going to publish it.”
Genevieve saw that Richard didn’t understand. Which was odd. Usually he was, if anything, too quick to pick up on things.
“Harm me?” He reached out to touch her before, thank goodness, hesitating. Despite knowing that this was her only course of action, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to persevere. If Richard cajoled her with tenderness or passion, she’d weaken.
She couldn’t weaken.
During last night’s long, dark watch, she’d realized that if she loved Richard Harmsworth, she couldn’t expose the truth about the Harmsworth Jewel. His words in the crypt, about a fraud of a baronet pursuing a fraud of a treasure, had haunted her. She couldn’t invite the world’s spite to his door.
“Richard, all your life you’ve suffered because of your birth. Turning the Harmsworth Jewel into a cause célèbre will only reopen old wounds.”
His lips twisted. “The gossip never goes away, my love. Your article won’t change that.”
She shook her head. “It gives the world another stick for beating you.”
He frowned. “What about your career?”
She twined her arms around herself. It was warm for October, but she was as cold as if she stood in a freezing north wind. After struggling to reach this decision, she thought she’d come to terms with her choice. Here, surrendering her dreams, she felt slowly and painfully crushed in a giant fist. “I won’t use my work to your detriment.”
“People will always snicker about my birth. You deserve your moment in the sun.” His tone developed an edge. “You’ve already sacrificed yourself for your father. You won’t sacrifice yourself for me.”
She fought tears. No joy could compare to her love for Richard. But she’d so looked forward to claiming a place in the wider world. Why was it that the two things she wanted, Richard’s happiness and her personal fulfillment, had to clash? It seemed bitterly unfair.
The complaint of a spoilt child. Time to grow up, Genevieve.
Shame steadied her voice. “That’s not your decision to make. When I go home, I’ll write to Dr. Partridge and tell him that I was mistaken about the jewel being a forgery.”
“You’re not mistaken,” Richard said harshly.
No, she wasn’t. But the image of the tormented boy building such powerful defenses against a malicious world broke her heart. She couldn’t love Richard and expose him to public ridicule, whatever it cost her.
“You should be pleased.” She knew by his unimpressed expression that her attempt at a smile was a rank failure. “You’ve succeeded in what you came to Little Derrick to do. You can now wave the jewel under the nose of anyone who dares to deride you and nobody will guess it’s not the real thing.”
If anything, he looked angrier. “It will be a lie.”
Her own temper stirred. “That should be no impediment. It’s not as though lying isn’t second nature to you.”
He whitened and retreated another step. “I suppose I deserve that.”
Eaten by guilt, she wanted to snatch the words back. But it was too late. She stared at him helplessly, wondering why the space between them suddenly felt like a thousand miles instead of a few feet. “This is what you wanted.”
“I was a damned fool,” he said bitterly. “How the devil did you expect me to react to this ludicrous offer?”
“I thought you’d be grateful,” she muttered.
His expression darkened. “Did you really? Apparently your opinion of me hasn’t changed since our first meeting.”
She flinched. “When you’ve had time to think—”
“I still won’t accept this unnecessary act of self-flagellation.”
She turned away, unable to bear the wretchedness and frustrated anger in his face. Right now, he thought of her welfare, not his own. She loved him for that, but it reinforced her decision. “I might come across something else that wil
l make a splash in scholarly circles.”