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She remembered something he had said during their second meeting. “You told me that you had moved into your own home to indulge in varied pursuits. I confess I imagined you meant pursuits of a rather scandalous nature.” Her cheeks warmed. “Was this one of the reasons?”
“One of them,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “My father and I had been quarreling rather frequently over my support for the Cruel and Improper Treatment of Cattle Act, which Parliament passed last year. He was convinced the law could never be enforced, though he eventually lent his influence to the cause after a rather extraordinary courtroom spectacle.”
“What spectacle?” Cordelia asked, intrigued.
“Have you heard of Mr. Richard Martin, the Member of Parliament for Galway?”
“I cannot say that I have.”
“He was chiefly responsible for bringing the Act before Parliament. It allows private citizens to prosecute those who cruelly mistreat cattle, horses, sheep, and certain other livestock. Many gentlemen doubted such a law could accomplish anything, but Martin was determined to prove otherwise.”
“And did he succeed?”
“Rather spectacularly. A London costermonger was brought before the magistrates for savagely beating his donkey, and Martin employed a most unusual means of securing the fellow’s conviction.”
“What did he do?”
“He brought the donkey into the courtroom.”
She stared at him. “The donkey?”
“The very same. He had the poor creature led before the magistrates so they might see the injuries for themselves. Its hide bore terrible welts and wounds, and the sight caused quite a sensation.”
“Good heavens! I can scarcely imagine what the magistrates must have thought.”
“I suspect they had never expected a donkey to appear before them as evidence in a criminal proceeding,” George said dryly. “But the injuries could hardly be disputed, and the man was convicted.”
“What punishment did the wretch receive?”
“A fine of five pounds, no trifling sum for a working man. If he could not pay, he would face imprisonment for up to three months. The act also allows the person bringing the charge to receive half the fine, partly to encourage citizens to report such abuses and pursue them before the magistrates.”
Cordelia considered this, her gaze drifting toward the animals enjoying the summer sunshine. “I suppose many people would otherwise look away, particularly if bringing a complaint meant sacrificing their own money and time.”
“Precisely. A law is of little use if no one will see it enforced. Martin demonstrated that a man might be held answerable for his cruelty, even when the creature he injured could not speak for itself.”
The quiet conviction in his voice moved her. “And you believe the law will make a difference?”
“It is only a beginning, for there are far too many creatures it does not yet protect. Martin is already considering the establishment of a society devoted to preventing cruelty to animals, one that might investigate abuses, encourage prosecutions, and persuade the public that compassion ought not to be reserved for mankind alone.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened. “Such a society would be a wonderful thing.”
“I intend to support his efforts wholeheartedly and deal ruthlessly with those who oppose them,” he said, his voice chillingly cold.
Yet even in the face of his icy resolve, such profound tenderness swept through her heart that she had to blink against the sudden moisture gathering in her eyes. For weeks, she had feared that beneath George’s charm and handsome countenance lay a man interested in little beyond selfish pleasure. Yet here was a gentleman who had spent years rescuing creatures others considered worthless, who had defied his father’s expectations and endured ridicule to create a sanctuary for those unable to defend themselves.
And he had done it quietly, without seeking praise or recognition.
He had promised to reveal a part of himself he had never shared with another woman, and he had kept that promise. “You are a remarkable man, George.”
For a moment, he said nothing. His silver-gray eyes remained fixed upon her face, their usual teasing gleam giving way to an intensity that made her heart flutter. Cordelia could not bear the distance between them another moment. She stepped closer and slipped her arms around his waist, feeling the warmth and strength of his body beneath her hands. As she lifted her face toward his, she caught the familiar scent of his shaving soap mingled with the faint, clean fragrance of summer air, and a delicate tremor passed through her.
She had intended only the most innocent expression of affection, a tender acknowledgment of the goodness she had discovered in him. Yet when she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth, the warmth of his skin and the faint rasp of his afternoon stubble against their softness sent her heart into a wild, uneven rhythm. She lingered, scarcely daring to breathe, overwhelmed by the intimacy of such a simple caress.
George’s hands slipped around her waist, his fingers spreading possessively against her back as he drew her closer. She felt the subtle movement of his body as he inclined his head toward hers, turning just enough that the corner of his mouth shifted beneath her lips, bringing them perilously close to a proper kiss.
Her breath caught, and for one delicious moment she could think of nothing beyond the warmth of his embrace, the steady strength of his hands, and the tantalizing nearness of his mouth. The kiss remained sweet, almost innocent, yet beneath that tenderness stirred a dangerous longing, one that made her ache to turn her face the smallest fraction and discover whether he would kiss her as he had before. And judging by the way his arms tightened about her waist, she suspected he was entertaining precisely the same temptation.
This chaste touch of her lips to his was becoming something of a secret language between them, a gesture that conveyed both the longing they could scarcely conceal and the restraint they struggled to maintain. When she drew back, the warmth and unmistakable desire in his gaze made her heart ache.
