The duchess smiled weakly, a shadow crossed over her eyes. “I remember. Though it seems a very long time ago.” Her voice had a far-off quality. It was clear to Genie that the loss of her husband still caused her enormous pain. The shadow cleared before she continued. “I will be happy to provide Mrs. Preston with whatever assistance she might need.”
She sounded sincere, Genie thought. Her ready assent to help Genie came as a bit of a surprise. Apparently, the cruel duchess was not completely without feeling.
The relief Huntingdon felt at seeing Genie fled the instant Hawk touched her.
He’d known he acted like an ass—riding out into the night like some crazed bedlamite—but he’d never been more happy to see anyone in his life. Whatever embarrassment he’d suffered was surely worth it to see that she was unharmed. If he lived a thousand years he’d never forget how she’d looked when he’d first caught sight of her, glowing like the silvery moon in the black of night. Flawless, opalescent skin; honey blond hair that shone as bright as the sun; luminous blue eyes that pierced the veil of darkness.
When their eyes locked, he felt as though he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. So severe had been his reaction. His chest had tightened with relief. And something more. Something he’d never thought to feel again. A wave of emotion so extreme, it felled him with a certainty that his happiness was inexplicably tied to this woman. Her suffering was his.
Ironically, it was at that moment—when he realized that she was safe—that he knew the answer to the question that had been haunting him.
He’d been agonizing for days. The conversation with his mother had sparked an ember of discontent that had been smoldering since the night of the ball. His recent conduct weighed heavily on him. Genie’s accusations rang true. He’d pursued her with such a single-minded purpose that he’d lost sight of what was right and honorable. He wanted her, so he forced her to him by threatening to ruin her. Something he’d already done once.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Fear of losing her had brought him unexpected clarity. The fog in his mind lifted, enabling him to take a hard, objective look at his actions. He’d become so focused on his goal, he’d lost sight of the harm he did in trying to achieve it. And harming Genie again was the last thing that he wanted to do.
For years he’d only thought to find her. To ease his conscience and assure himself that she’d come to no harm from his failings. But the moment he’d set eyes on her again, he’d wanted more. He’d wanted to make it up to her, to right the wrong he committed all those years ago. Failing a second time was unthinkable. So he’d done what was necessary to ensure that she married him.
But now, at the very cusp of the realization of his objectives, he knew that it would all mean nothing if he hurt the very person he wanted to protect more than anyone else in the world. It had taken the thought of losing her to make him realize that he had to let her go. He had hurt her enough; it was time for her to heal.
And to heal, he needed her trust. He wanted to prove to her that he was not the same boy who let her down all those years ago. He’d turned himself around and proved himself a worthy duke. Now he’d prove that he was a man worthy of her love. A man to whom she could confide the painful secrets of her past. Perhaps then he could soothe the pain and return the sparkle for life that she’d lost.
His good intentions, however, suffered a severe blow when Hawk touched her. A black haze of jealousy descended over him as he watched the easy interchange between his former friend and his bride. He fought the urge to rip Hawk’s hand from her arm, the primitive possessiveness as unreasonable as it was inexplicable. He was a fool to be jealous of Hawk, but he deeply envied their closeness. A closeness that he’d squandered long ago. Every time she called him Edmund it reminded him of what he’d lost.
Huntingdon should be the one to offer Genie comfort. She seemed so confident and sophisticated; he was ashamed to admit that it didn’t occur to him that she might be nervous about her responsibilities as a duchess. Or that Donnington Park might appear a bit daunting to its new mistress. He’d had no idea.
The duchess had summoned Mrs. Mactavish, the housekeeper, but Huntingdon couldn’t let Genie go. He’d made a decision; he might not go through with it if he waited until tomorrow.
He stepped between Genie and Hawk. “Please, if you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Preston, I’d like to speak with you before you retire.”
“I’m very tired.”
The instinctive look that she gave Hawk before she replied burned in Huntingdon’s chest. He kept his expression impassive, fighting a frown. “It will only be a minute,” he insisted.
“Very well,” she agreed, but with obvious reluctance.
Hawk looked like he was going to argue, but stopped himself when Huntingdon shot him a fierce glare of warning. It wasn’t Hawk’s place to interfere, and he knew it.
Huntingdon motioned to the footmen to follow the others out. He wanted privacy for this conversation. “Come,” he said taking her arm. “I wanted to show you something.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Can’t it wait until morning?”
He smiled. “No. I’m afraid what I have to show you can only be seen at night.”
He led her across the marble salon and into the next room. Though a large fireplace provided warmth, the cavernous room was substantially cooler than the last and Genie shivered. He resisted the urge to fold her under his arm. He didn’t trust himself to touch her.
Genie glanced around, her eyes stopping on the fine pianoforte and large golden harp. “The conservatory?” she asked. He nodded. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Ah, but this is not what I want to show you.”
Her brows gathered above her tiny nose. “Then what?”
The blond curls peeking from beneath her traveling bonnet shimmered in the candlelight. His breath caught. Unable to resist the siren call of her beauty, he cupped her chin, his fingers stoking the soft velvet of her skin. He heard her sharp intake of breath. Her lips parted. God that mouth, he thought. He ached to taste her. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
“I missed you.” The words slipped out. He was surprised by the huskiness of his voice, by how fast his passion flared after only a moment in her company.
Standing so close, he could smell the sweet rose of her perfume and the subtle honey of her skin. He felt strangely alive, invigorated by her mere presence. Blood pounded through his body and his skin grew warm. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming.
She didn’t answer, but her lips quivered as if she knew what he was thinking. As if she knew instinctively how badly he wanted to put his mouth on hers. To crush her body to him, and let their passion consume them. To kiss her mouth, her skin, to run his tongue down the sharp cleave of her breasts. To inhale her sweetness. To assure himself in the most primitive way that she was alive.
As much as he wanted to give free rein to his lust, even more desperately, he ached to hear her say something. To return the sentiment. To give him a reason not to offer her freedom. Her gaze fell to his mouth and his groin tightened at the unconscious response. Unspoken permission, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more than passion. He wanted her soul. He wanted everything.
Lust had always been between them. But unlike last time he would not let it control him. This time he had the maturity and the strength to do what was right. Before he could change his mind, he lifted her chin, forcing her gaze up to the ceiling. “I wanted you to see this.”
He watched the wonder transform her face, giving him a glimpse of the girl that he remembered. For once she didn’t hide her reaction. Her lips curved into a wide grin and her eyes sparkled. “Oh, my.”
The heavens lay open above them. The stars twinkled brightly across the evening sky through the glass of the domed ceiling.
“Did you do this?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Not by myself.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s magnificent.”
&n
bsp; Her reaction pleased him. It was a masterful piece of architectural engineering and he was extremely proud of his accomplishment. He might be about to offer her her freedom, but he’d damned well use everything at his disposal to keep her here. Even if it meant regaling her with everything she’d be giving up.
Content to gaze at the stars, neither of them spoke. It was a rare moment of peace, a painful reminder for Huntingdon of the times they spent together in Thornbury. When comfortable silence had communicated so much more than words. When he’d held her in his arms along the banks of the river, the weight of her body against his, when he’d buried his face in the sweet scent of her hair and known a happiness so complete it almost hurt to remember.
He sensed her returning impatience and reluctantly broke the silence. “I’m glad it pleases you. But that is not the only reason I wanted to speak with you.” He indicated a small settee near the fireplace. “Please sit.”
The temporary lull had lapsed. Genie raised her chin. “Thank you, I believe I’ll stand.”
He shook his head. So we are back to that, he thought. Was this how it was going to be? Stubborn defiance over even the smallest request? Argument for the sake of argument? Is this how he wanted her? Hating him? Distrusting everything he did?
The difference between the way it had been and the way it was now had never seemed so vast.
He dragged his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I was wrong.”
She eyed him cagily.
Her continued distrust bolstered his resolve. “I was wrong to force you to marry me with a threat.” He paused, still unsure of whether he would regret this decision for the rest of his life. Could he let her go a second time? He had to. This time he’d do the honorable thing even if it killed him.
He took a deep breath. “I want to marry you, Genie. But if you wish to break our engagement, I will not stop you.”
Genie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. For a moment she didn’t understand. Why was he saying this? And then comprehension struck, and a sick feeling rose like bile in the back of her throat. Despair. Disbelief. An unmistakable hollow ache in her chest that could not be denied. He had heard. He was abandoning her again, at the first inkling of trouble.
She tried to contain the bitterness and hurt, the overwhelming pain that made her want to burst out into tears, but her words tumbled out harsh and caustic. “I see the gossip floating about town has reached you at Donnington?”
At first he looked puzzled, then genuinely shocked. “That’s not why—”
“Do you deny it?” she practically spat, the betrayal too raw. “Do you deny knowledge of the fact that news of our previous connection is circulating amongst the ton? That everyone knows that I am the girl you courted who mysteriously disappeared five years ago? That people are speculating about why I disappeared and where I’ve been all these years? And you’re having second thoughts because you know exactly where I’ve been.”
He paled and shifted on his feet. The truth of her accusation was evident by his discomfort. “I admit that such news is not new to me, but—”
“Stop.” She held up her hand. “Don’t bother trying to explain.” Anger and disappointment curdled any fleeting moment of happiness she’d felt when first she’d seen him riding out to greet her then when he’d shown her this heavenly conservatory. Fool. She thought he’d been reaching out to her.
Only moments ago she’d considered kissing him, melting against him and succumbing to a temporary bout of insanity. She’d actually believed him when he said that he’d missed her. How close she’d been to voicing her own secret, that she’d missed him too. A moment of idiocy that made this conversation all the more humiliating.
She forgot to feign indifference, forgot to control her emotions. She could feel her façade crack as the conflagration of emotion spewed forth. “I will most assuredly not call off the engagement.” Her voice sounded suspiciously shrill. “You’ll not break your word so easily this time.”
“I have no intention of breaking my word,” he said, clearly affronted. “You have it all wrong. I only wanted to give you a choice. I want you to marry me of your own volition, not because of a threat.”
She scoffed. But when an additional explanation for his actions occurred to her, fear clutched her chest. “You are not thinking of trying to wriggle out of our agreement?”
His eyes narrowed at the coarse mention of the unusual marriage settlement she had wrested from him. He drew himself up stiffly, his eyes slitted. “The property you have chosen will be yours upon our marriage as well as the two thousand per annum. At our marriage you will become a very wealthy woman in your own right.”
She let out her breath. “Very well,” she said tonelessly. “Then the wedding will proceed as planned.” And her letter would be dispatched soon thereafter.
How could he appear so strong and yet balk at the first sign of difficulty? But what other explanation was there for this sudden change of heart? Did he honestly expect her to believe that her feelings mattered to him?
He’d proved the fallacy of that belief many times over.
“In all honesty, I gave no thought to scandal. I only sought to right a wrong.” His jaw tightened. “Why must you always believe the worst of me?”
Her mouth trembled and heat prickled behind her eyes. “Can you honestly ask me that after everything that has happened? If I believe the worst of you, it’s because you’ve never given me a reason to believe anything else. What reason have I to trust you when you have never acted without selfish purpose?”
“Damn it, Genie! I’m trying to make it right.”
“You’re trying to protect yourself from scandal.”
“If that were true I would never have asked you to marry me in the first place. I knew our previous connection would eventually be discovered. Admittedly, I’d hoped to have some time, but sooner or later, it was bound to happen.”
He was right, Genie thought. But the timing of his offer couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d not rid himself of her that easily. She fought for control and met his gaze, trying to mask the hurt. “Your conscience can rest at ease, Your Grace. Be assured, there is nothing more that I want right now than to marry you.”
Perhaps you will suffer an ounce of the agony that I’m feeling right now.
Not interested in a reply, she spun on her heel and fled the room in search of a servant, praying that she could fight back the explosion of disappointed tears until she reached the haven of her chamber.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Congratulations, dearest. I’m so very happy for you.” Caro’s eyes shone bright with unshed tears as she enfolded Genie in an enthusiastic embrace. “We’ve certainly come full circle from that fateful harvest festival ball all those years ago.” She sighed dramatically. “It’s all so deliciously romantic.”
Genie didn’t have the heart to contradict her. News of her and Huntingdon’s prior courtship, his parents’ objection, and her disappearance had indeed been bandied about town. But thanks to the deft handling by Lady Hawkesbury, with a few well placed words, the “scandal” had been turned into a great romance. If the truth wasn’t so painful, Genie might laugh.
She’d been a duchess for exactly an hour. They’d just returned to Donnington after a short, private ceremony at the parish church. She stood next to Huntingdon, his younger brothers and sisters, and the new dowager duchess, waiting to receive their guests. It was a small celebration, including the guests from the house party and a few of the local quality. But surprisingly, Caro had been first in line.
“I’m so glad you could be here,” Genie replied and meant it, caught up in some of Caro’s contagious excitement. Despite the less than happy circumstances of the occasion of her wedding, Genie was grateful for the presence of her old friend.
“It was all Huntingdon’s idea,” Caro gushed. “I didn’t think it would be possible to get here in time—with the roads washed out from all the rain—but he arranged everything and here I am
.”
“He’s thought of everything,” Genie said dryly. And in truth, he had. Today had been as near to perfect as she could have imagined. Even the sun had cooperated, shining unusually bright and warm for a late summer day.
The day had been full of many other surprises. With Lady Hawkesbury’s help, Huntingdon had secretly arranged for a special wedding gown of deep blue silk, precisely the color of her eyes, to be made by Madame Devy. Encrusted with hundreds of diamonds along the bodice, it was the most beautiful gown she’d ever seen. Then, right before they were to leave for the church, he’d sent a diamond tiara along with matching earrings and necklace. She sparkled from head to toe; even her slippers had jeweled buckles. She felt like a princess, though as a duchess she supposed that she was not that far off.
The smell of roses filled the air; the delicate blooms covered every surface not covered with food. Surely Huntingdon had raided every hothouse between here and London to find such a quantity at this time of year. The soft strum of the harp sounded in the background. It was magical. All the accoutrements of a fairy-tale wedding, with the exception of the happy bride.
But was she so terribly unhappy?
Admittedly not as much as she wanted to be.
Genie stole a covert glance at her new husband, who was pretending not to listen to her conversation with Caro. He’d surprised her with his thoughtfulness, secretly inviting Caro when he’d heard of their fateful meeting in the dress shop. Indeed, since their conversation in the conservatory he’d been nothing but thoughtful and kind. Almost wooing her.
Genie didn’t know what to make of it, but it was all deeply unsettling.
As if he knew what she was thinking, he murmured in her ear, “A peace offering.”
Genie tilted her head sideways to consider him. Seeing only sincerity in his expression, she said, “It was a very considerate gesture. I thank you.”
He grinned, boyishly pleased.
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