Five minutes later, he opened the door to his cottage, thinking about what to bring, but all thought stopped when he saw the table. The leopard stood on it. Harry picked up the carved animal. It was exactly the same as the last time he’d seen it in her palm. Except that it was no longer in a cage.

She’d set the leopard free.

He stared at the wooden creature in his hands for a minute, rubbing his thumb over the smooth back he’d so carefully whittled. Then he looked at the table again. There was a note. He picked it up with a shaking hand.

My Dear Harry,

I’m sorry. I never meant to cage you. I see now that it wouldn’t be right for me to force myself on you. I’ll take care of matters myself. Enclosed is something I had drawn up when last in London.

—Georgina

The second paper was a legal document. Lady Georgina had given him the Woldsly estate.

No.

Harry reread the fine script. The document remained the same.

No. No. No. He crumpled the paper in his fist. Did she hate him that much? Hate him enough to give up part of her inheritance to get him out of her life? He sank into a chair and stared at the balled scrap in his hand. Perhaps she’d finally come to her senses. Finally realized how very far beneath her he lay. If so, there would be no redemption for him. He laughed, but it came out more a sob, even to his own ears. He’d spent the last weeks pushing Lady Georgina away, but even as he’d done so, he’d known.

She was the one.

The one and only lady for him in this lifetime. If she left him, there would be no other. And he’d thought that was fine. His life had been adequate up until now, hadn’t it? He could continue without her. But somehow in the last weeks she had burrowed into his life. Into him. And the things she had offered him so casually, a wife and family, a home, those things had become like meat and wine put before a man who had eaten only bread and water his entire life.

Vital.

Harry looked down at the crushed piece of paper and realized that he was afraid. Afraid he couldn’t make this right. Afraid he’d never be whole again.

Afraid he’d lost his lady and their child.

TWO HORSES.