He let her go abruptly, turned on his heel and paced away, then pivoted and strode back to her, his expression thunderous. “How can I possibly prove that it’s you that I want? I can’t ask you to give it all away, just so I can stay with you without it. The only way we could reasonably be together would be if I had the same fortune as you. There would be equality. But that will never happen. I’ll never have a fortune like yours.”

Georgie wrapped her arms around her body, missing his touch. “You’re thinking about this all wrong.” Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she gave him a watery smile. “Just for a moment, imagine what it would be like if our places were reversed. If you were the one with an embarrassing amount of money. What if you knew, in your heart, that you loved me? Wouldn’t you want to share everything you had with me? Wouldn’t you want to share your body, your life—everything it entailed—with me?”

She gained confidence as she spoke. The words tumbled straight from her heart; she was certain of their rightness. He faced her, chest heaving, fists clenched at his side. But at least he was listening.

“Think of our marriage vows,” she said. “Neither of us really meant them when we said them—I barely paid attention—but the answer was right there.” Her voice was reedy, choked with emotion, but she soldiered on, desperate to make him understand, terrified of losing him.

“For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health. You’d stay with me if I were poor and sick, Benedict, I know you would. So, why won’t you stay with me when I’m healthy and rich?” She shook her head. “It’s illogical. And besides which, it’s too late.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’re married, for better or for worse, so it’s just something you’re going to have to get used to. I refuse to let you leave me now, after all this.”

Chapter 42.

Benedict studied the woman in front of him and felt as though his chest would crack open, his heart was beating so hard. Her cap had come off somewhere during their adventures and her furious diatribe had left her with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes.

“I love you. You love me,” she said crossly. “I fail to see the problem.”

A droplet of water slid down the side of her nose and down to the corner of her mouth, and he wanted to lick it away but he made one last-ditch effort to dissuade her. She could do so much better than him—a penniless rogue. “Men are supposed to provide for their women. That’s the way society works. You should marry a man with a fortune equal to your own.”