Romancing the Rogue

by Kim Bowman

  “Well, well, Mrs. Markham. It would appear we meet again,” a cultured voice drawled.

  Her eyes popped open. A scream climbed up her throat but went nowhere. She pressed her hand to her pounding heart and stared back at the Duke of Aubrey.

  He sat on their host’s sofa, drinking the man’s brandy, looking for all the world as though it were his own palace. The duke held his glass up in mock salute but made no move to rise.

  Georgina wet her lips. A sinister darkness clung to him, and the last thing she needed was more of what this hardened man represented. She started to leave.

  “Please stay, Mrs. Markham. I find myself in need of good company as well.”

  She paused. “And you’ve decided I’m good company?” She couldn’t keep the bitter words from spilling off her tongue.

  He took a small sip, smiling around the rim of his glass. “I’ve decided you are better company than most of the people out there.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Oh, and you’ve reached such an exalted opinion from our in-depth exchanges?” Georgina bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she could call the mocking words back.

  The duke laughed.

  She didn’t know what possessed her to remain here with this stranger, baiting him. Logic told her to turn on her heels and flee to the nearest empty rooms. Something kept her back. Her toes curled in her slippers at the image of Adam and Grace indelibly burned in her mind. If she returned to the ballroom, she’d have to confront the pain of watching her husband pine for his lost love.

  “I like you, Mrs. Markham.”

  Georgina said nothing. She hadn’t quite made up her mind about the duke. She’d heard Tony’s low opinion of the roguish peer but had long ago learned to form her own opinions, basing them on more than mere gossip and happenstance.

  The duke finished his glass and reached for the decanter. He held it up. “Would you like a glass?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She’d seen what spirits had done to her father, Jamie, and now Adam, and had no interest in turning over her self-control, even for liquid fortitude. “I should leave.” It would not do for them to be discovered alone together. She nearly choked on a mirthless giggle as she imagined being found with the young duke. Oh, the gossips would just love such a juicy tidbit.

  Your husband would only care about how it reflects on his family, a cruel voice jeered inside her heart.

  “Yet you stay.” He made the observation like a scientist discovering the planetary secrets.

  Georgina bit her lip to keep from saying that the only reason she stayed was because she preferred one beast over several hundred.

  “Tell me, did you ever read the book I recommended?” he asked.

  A stray curl fell over her eye. She brushed it back into place. “I didn’t.” With her marriage and life falling apart, she’d not put much effort into reading.

  He inclined his head. “You strike me as an intelligent woman. Do you ever give much thought to the revolutionary principles that took shape in Ireland?”

  Georgina’s heartbeat sped up. Warning bells went off in her head, and all her earlier fears of being discovered with Jamie resurfaced. “I-I’m sorry?”

  Hard lips twitched upward in a smile. “You do know there was a revolution in France, don’t you?”

  “Of course I know there was a war,” she snapped.

  He raised a brow.

  Georgina bowed her head.

  This man is a duke. He can destroy you faster than a dog finishing off a discarded bone.

  “Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I—”

  The duke waved off her apology. “I don’t offend easily.” She suspected that was a lie.

  He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees. “I am curious what you think about the Society of United Irishmen.”

  It was hardly the conversation for a young woman and a powerful noble. Women were groomed to discuss polite topics such as the weather and music. But no one had ever asked her where her political beliefs resided. It had always been expected that she ascribe to whatever political ideologies her father held. Father. Jamie. Adam. They all seemed to think that the blood in her veins determined the direction of her heart and mind.

  Georgina sidled deeper into the room, drawn by the possibility of speaking her own thoughts. “I believe there were great benefits to the democratic reforms put forth by the society,” she began. “I also believe there were merits to the French vision of liberté, égalité, fraternité, but powerful men manipulated and distorted the visions and hopes for the people.” She looked him square in the eye. “England is great. It is not perfect, but that does not mean I love it any less, Your Grace. It is not blind loyalty that ties me to England. It is a belief that it is a good, fair country.” She fell silent, realizing at some point she’d ceased to answer the question and had begun to ramble, carried along by the strong desire for someone to hear her, even if it was just a bored nobleman with too much curiosity.

  The duke gave her an enigmatic grin that would have set most ladies hearts aflutter. “I’m never wrong, Mrs. Markham.”

  Her lips twitched. She supposed arrogance went along with the esteemed title of Duke. “I beg your pardon?”

  He set his glass down on the table beside him and stood. “I said I liked you, and you’ve only confirmed that I was indeed correct about your character.”

  “And you know all of that from our very concise conversation?” She heard the skepticism in her own voice.

  “I imagine your husband will be looking for you.”

  “He won’t…” she started then promptly clamped her lips shut.

  “He won’t what?” the duke asked gently.

  “You are correct. I should be going.”

  Georgina didn’t wait for a proper dismissal, merely curtsied then fled the Marquess of Ashton’s opulent library.

  She closed the door behind her and jumped when the faint echo of footsteps reached her ears. Squinting down the dark hall, she tried to determine the direction of this newest interloper so she might avoid him…or her.

  It was too late. “Hello, my lord,” she whispered.

  Her brother-in-law, the earl of Whitehaven, frowned, his familiar emerald gaze going to the door behind her. “I’m looking for my brother.”

  So much for pleasantries. She brushed her warm palms along her silken skirts. “I haven’t seen him since we arrived.”

  Suspicion darkened his eyes to a dark jade. “What were you doing in our host’s library?”

  Georgina gave her curls a little toss. “That is none of your business, my lord.”

  His mouth hung open. Apparently, he didn’t expect that meek, biddable Georgina would ever defy his orders. Well, good. The earl could go hang along with everyone else who’d treated her worse than a common street whore. He snapped his jaw closed and took a step toward her.

  Georgina held her ground. She’d had enough of men using their strength to bend her to their will.

  The earl pointed a finger at her. “I don’t know what you did to hurt my brother, but he’s begun drinking again. By God, you’ll make it right.”

  Pain and regret clogged her throat. She’d never meant to hurt Adam, yet her lie of omission had turned him from a rational, caring man to a cold, heartless stranger dependent on a bottle.

  Her brother-in-law pounced on her guilty silence. “Have you taken a lover?”

  “No!” Georgina gasped, pressing a palm to her heated cheek. She could never, ever think of lying with another man. Not after the magic she’d known in Adam’s skilled arms.

  The earl’s lip curled. He leaned down so close she could see the pores of his skin. “I suggest you go find your husband. Now. And, you should know, I don’t believe you. Whoever he is, end it. Or I will destroy you.” With that dark promise, he spun on his heel and left.

  Georgina stared after him. With all those intent on destroying her, she really didn’t have much of a chance at survival.

  H
er shoulders drooped in defeat, and she set out to find her husband.

  Chapter 21

  Adam stared out across the ballroom floor. Dancers twirled and swirled in rapid circles down jaunty lines until his head spun with dizziness.

  Or mayhap it was the alcohol. He took another swallow of champagne. His gaze landed on a young lady with a crop of dark curls and his heart lifted.

  Until she turned, and he realized it wasn’t his wife.

  And then he realized he was searching for his wife.

  He took another drink and found his glass empty.

  The raucous laughter and twittering giggles of eager young debutantes made him want to gnash his teeth, clamp his hands over his ears and drown out the repellent din. With his world dashed to crumbling ruins, it seemed unfathomable that anyone should find amusement in anything.

  Earlier that day, when he’d confronted Georgina with the file given him by Bennett, a part deep inside Adam had clung to the fragile thread of hope that it had all been a great big lie perpetuated by The Brethren.

  Until she’d uttered that two-word confirmation about her father, he’d believed in her. He’d imagined the conversation playing out so very different. He would have presented her the information, asked her for the truth. She would have been shocked and hurt that he could ever think a traitor’s blood flowed through her veins. He would fall to his knees, beg her forgiveness, and they would carry on as they’d been before.

  How utterly naïve he’d been. A bloody fool was more like it.

  An elegant woman moved into his line of vision. Her flaxen hair caught his eye, glinting like spun-gold in the glow of the candles.

  Like a deer caught in a snare, Grace Helling froze. Her gaze flitted around the room until she found Adam. Her lips turned up in a tremulous smile. He ripped his eyes away.

  While he’d been captive, this woman had married another member of The Brethren. Her laugh, husky and sweet, reached his ears even through the loud hum of conversations. Adam was besieged by the sting of regret and anger. While he’d tied himself to his captor’s daughter, Grace had found herself in a perfectly happy, uncomplicated union.

  And he wanted that. Not with Grace, but with an undeserving, lying Georgina.

  Adam cursed. The graying matron beside him gasped and snatching her skirts away, walking off in a flurry.

  He was making a proper ass of himself. The morning papers would quite gleefully report on the scene made by Mr. and Mrs. Markham, but he couldn’t drum up the smallest vestige of concern. The sting of Georgina’s betrayal ate at his thoughts. At any moment, The Brethren could appear with a determination of her fate. As much as he wanted to punish her, as much as he wanted her to hurt as he was hurting, the thought of her life being snuffed out as easily as the flame of a candle threatened to destroy him.

  Adam needed to spend less time wallowing in his own misery and more time keeping a close eye on his wife—Fox’s daughter.

  A servant appeared, and he handed his glass off to the young man, waving off a filled flute. Walking the perimeter of the ballroom, he searched the crowd, doing a rapid scan for the voluptuous beauty who’d broken his heart. It took him only moments to realize she was suspiciously missing. With a silent curse, Adam headed for his host’s alcoves.

  When he turned up empty from his search, he moved outside to the empty balcony. The crisp, cool air filled his senses, pushing back the liquored haze he’d put himself in. His eyes struggled to adjust to the thick, starless night.

  Then he saw her.

  His breath caught. She stood there all tall, lithe elegance, her beauty even greater than he’d remembered. Her lips were turned up in a sorry rendition of a smile.

  He only managed one word. “Grace.”

  If he and Grace were discovered, the scandal would be great — for his entire family. The last thing he could do after all the misery he’d caused was create further heartache. There was also Georgina to consider. It shouldn’t have mattered if his wife discovered him with Grace, but — damn him for having a bloody conscience—he cared. He made to leave.

  “Don’t go!” Grace cried out. “Please.”

  It was that last pathetic word that halted him mid-stride.

  He turned. She held a hand up, outstretched to him as if she’d wrapped a string around him to draw him to her.

  And perhaps she had, because — against his better judgment — Adam moved forward, toward the woman who’d once claimed his heart.

  He froze in front of her, acutely aware that she was only a few inches shorter than his six foot two.

  She cocked her head. “I’ve missed you, Adam.”

  Her betrayal should not have matter any longer, and yet it did. It served as a reminder that the women who had claimed to love him were nothing more than self-serving creatures who only thought of their own happiness. He twisted his lips in an attempted smile. “Not enough to wait for me.”

  She flinched, and a single tear streaked down her cheek. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.”

  Adam arched a brow. “Oh? Who is they?”

  Grace wiped the tear away. “Come, Adam, surely by now you have figured out who I am? What I am?” She looked at him meaningfully.

  And of course, he knew. Oh, it had taken him a good several years to piece it all together, but he’d eventually gathered that Grace Blakely was, in fact, a member of The Brethren. It was the perfect ruse. Who would ever expect Grace, the daughter of a Viscount, to be a member of a spy organization?

  Adam frowned. “I really don’t think there is anything left for us to say. You are married. And I…”

  I have Georgina.

  “And you are married,” Grace finished his thought for him. She reached up and caressed his cheek. “Are you… happy?”

  Guilt curled around his stomach as he imagined how Georgina would feel if she discovered him with Grace.

  Why do you care?

  Georgina was guilty of enough lies and deceit to fill the bloody Thames.

  Yet, somehow, for reasons both unfathomable and frustrating, he did care.

  He needed to leave.

  So why did he stay?

  “Did you ever think of me?” Grace asked. The question contained a forlorn note of despair that threatened to run his confounded emotions ragged.

  “What do you want from me, Grace? Do you want to hear that I thought of you every day for two years? That when I found out you’d married, I became a bitter shadow of the person I had been?”

  Grace stretched a hand toward him. “No, I…” Her gloved fingers fell to her side. “I loved you. I need you to know that.”

  He raised a cynical brow. “What good is that supposed to do me, Grace? We’re both married.” For as long as The Brethren saw fit. His heart convulsed with a painful spasm.

  Fool! I’m a bloody fool!

  “I just want to know that you’re happy.” Grace tilted her head back, and the rosewater that clung to her skin bathed his senses, carrying him back to a place and time, long before Georgina and her Father had upended his world

  He spoke, his words coming out heavy. “Why does it matter?”

  Tears clouded her eyes. “It does. I need to know one of us is,” she whispered.

  Adam closed his eyes.

  Grace is also trapped in an empty, loveless marriage.

  He’d imagined he would feel elated to know that she was miserable. But he didn’t. He wanted her to be happy, because at one time he’d cared very deeply for her. Even now, he still cared. He couldn’t just shut the door on all they’d shared.

  So he opened his eyes.

  And lied to her.

  “I’m happy.”

  She tilted her head. “You’re certain. Because I’ve read that—”

  He interjected. “I’m happy, Grace.”

  She smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled with real joy. Leaning up, she placed a faint kiss on his lips. Her breath melded with his.

  There was none of the fire that accompanie
d his and Georgina’s lips meeting. Just—

  A chorus of shocked gasps and cries penetrated his thoughts. He spun and faced the crowd of spectators.

  When he looked back at Grace, he found all the color had leeched from her cheeks and followed her gaze to his fellow Brethren — Edward Helling.

  Helling’s lips were flattened in a single, hard line. The sea of bleeding hurt in the other man’s eyes jabbed at Adam as he wrestled with the unwelcome truth that he was responsible for that look, that pain that hurt betrayal. Adam glanced away.

  His heart fell somewhere in the vicinity of his toes.

  Georgina stood just beyond Helling’s shoulder. Her full red lips were rounded in a moue of shock. Had she taken a bullet to the heart, she could not have looked more surprised.

  Their hostess, Lady Ashton, stood amongst the crowd. She fanned herself rapidly, eying the scandal unfolding on her balcony. “Oh my. Oh, my.”

  Observers continued to appear, including Nick, who quickly took in the scene, and ended it with his ducal authority. “I suggest we all return to our lovely hostess’s ballroom. The entertainment within is a good deal more amusing than this dull meeting,” Nick said.

  Those present shuffled off the balcony with clear reluctance in their slow steps.

  With the throng of voyeurs gone, only the two married couples remained.

  Grace reached a hand out to her husband. “Edward,” she whispered.

  As if awakening from a long slumber, Helling gave his head a quick shake and stalked away.

  A ragged cry escaped Grace as she ran after him.

  Georgina stared down at the tips of her slippers.

  “Georgina,” Adam said.

  She looked up and Adam inclined his head in greeting.

  His wife didn’t say anything, just continued to stand there with shocked hurt in her soulful brown eyes. His insides twisted.

  Why do I care so much? Why, after all you have put me through, does the sight of your trembling lip make me want to drop to my knees and plead forgiveness for even an imagined offense?

  Her voice broke. “Are you deliberately trying to humiliate me?”