by Kim Bowman
Then he’d reach for the bloody bottle of whiskey.
Part of him wondered — if, on that day they’d first met, she’d confessed her real identity, would he have felt this same, gnawing resentment?
His gaze wandered from her luminous eyes and came to rest on her fragile neck.
I wrapped my hands around her flesh. I very nearly choked the life from her.
At the memory, tightness settled deep in his chest and spread through his body.
The answer was simple — he’d never have trusted her. Nor, following his assault, had he given Georgina any reason to believe he’d not do her harm if she shared the truth with him.
She brushed away the lone curl that had a tendency to escape the serviceable knot at the nape of her neck and continued to stand there in silence.
He’d never met a person capable of such utter stillness. The women he knew were besieged by what seemed like an insatiable need to talk over any stretches of quiet. Not his wife. What had been done to her that she should have learned to stand as quiet as a forest creature hiding from encroaching hunters?
The niggling of doubt came again. Mayhap her role with Fox and Hunter was less clear than he’d assumed?
He shoved the hope aside. It was only desperation that made him see castles in the sky.
Adam jerked his chin toward the fireplace. “I thought I saw you throw something into the fire.”
The color seeped from Georgina’s cheek. She shook her head quickly. Too quickly. “No. You are mistaken.”
He clenched his teeth. She was a dreadful liar. How had she managed to aid Fox and Hunter all these years without being discovered? “Am I, Georgina?”
His eyes alighted on a lone book atop the mantle. Adam frowned and reached behind her.
Georgina folded her hands in front of her, casting her gaze to the floor demurely. He flipped through the pages. “A rather odd choice,” he murmured, setting it back down.
Her head shot up, her dainty chin jutting out in a mutinous line. “You don’t even know what I like to read, so why should it seem odd?”
Adam started. Georgina’s word bore an accusatory tone and, God help him, she was correct. He didn’t know a thing about her tastes or preferences in literature. He knew so very little about her…and most of what he did know had turned out to be lies. “I imagine if I’d bothered asking, you’d have merely lied.”
She jerked as if he’d backhanded her.
His hand quivered with the need to touch her, to drag her close, bury his face in her crown of curls and plead forgiveness.
He did none of those things.
“Why are you here, Adam?” she asked, her tone surprisingly resolute.
“It is time we put in an appearance at a ball.”
Georgina shook her head. “No. I’ll not go. I’ll not perpetuate this lie.”
“Tsk, tsk. What’s one more, dear wife? Surely you can feign contented wife? You did a remarkable job at battered maid.”
The palm of her hand connected with his cheek in a loud crack. His head whipped to the right. Adam flexed his jaw and brushed his fingers over the stinging flesh.
Georgina stared at him, her eyes full moons in her pale white cheeks. She held her hand out as if warding him off and took a step back, stumbling over her skirts. In her haste to get away, she nearly retreated into the burning hearth.
“Georgina!” he bellowed, grasping her by the forearm and pulling her to safety.
Georgina cried out, wrestling her arm free. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered, slipping underneath his arm.
He froze.
Christ. She thinks I’m going to hit her.
Nausea turned his stomach. “Come here, Georgina.” He reached for her.
She swatted at his fingers and danced artfully away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Adam said, a gruff edge to his words.
She spun on her heel and fled as if the gates of hell had opened and unleashed a stream of fire.
Adam stared after her, sickened. How could she believe he would ever lay his hands on her? Since he’d discovered her betrayal, he’d wavered between wanting to throw his head back and roar in anguish and shaking her until she swore all of this had been a horrible misunderstanding. But he would never, could never, strike her. He might’ve been a beast, but he was not so depraved as to descend into the cowardly behavior of beating his wife.
Still, her apprehension had not been feigned. She’d been terror incarnate.
And once more a maelstrom of doubts snuck back to the surface.
Watson appeared at the door. “Sir, you have visitors.”
Adam cursed. The last thing he wanted at this moment was company. “Tell whoever it is I’m out.”
“Shame, little brother. You’d lie to your brother and mother?”
Nick stood beside his mother, who frowned when she got a good look at him.
Watson took that as his cue to leave.
“Coward,” Adam muttered beneath his breath. He threw his arms wide. “Come in, come in! How very good it is to see you,” he said, his tone coated in sarcasm.
His mother hurried to his side and leaned up to kiss him. She paused, wrinkling her nose. “You smell like you’ve been bathing in spirits,” she said, her lips turned down in motherly disapproval.
Adam bowed. “Guilty as charged.”
Nick settled himself into the leather sofa and folded his leg over his knee. “I’m glad this is amusing to you, little brother.”
Adam quirked a brow.
“Nicholas,” his mother murmured. She gave a slight shake of her head.
Ever the earl, Nick ignored her. “You married Georgina against our better wishes. We all but pleaded with you to set the woman aside, but you were adamant. You were insistent. It is now clear to us—”
“And all the ton,” mother said beneath her breath.
Nick ignored her and continued, “…that you merely married Georgina because you were nursing a broken heart for Viscount Blakely’s daughter.”
Adam ground his teeth, fighting the urge to cross over, drag Nick up by the lapels of his coat and throw him from the room. Nick knew nothing about what plagued Adam but believed he possessed some kind of insight that gave him leave to speak candidly about Adam’s marriage.
“That’s right. I’m bitter because I loved and lost Blakely’s daughter,” he mocked.
The truth has more to do with the fact that I loved and lost my own wife.
Mother stifled a gasp behind her hand. “Adam, you are destroying your reputation.”
He spun on his heel. “Is that what has you worried, Mother? My reputation?” He snarled the last word at her.
Nick surged to his feet. “Do not speak to her in that tone.”
Tears filled his mother’s eyes, and a wave of guilt hit him. “We are worried about you, Adam,” she whispered. “I wish you’d never met that woman. Either of them. But you did, and you are married to Georgina. You must put aside your differences. If you don’t, it will destroy you.” A hauntingly prophetic note hung on those last words.
Adam shoved down the unnerving sensation roiling in his gut. He bowed his head. “I’ll try.”
For as long as I’m wed to Georgina.
His heart turned over at the thought of her absent from his life.
“No more whiskey,” Nick instructed.
Adam nodded. The moment Georgina had fled his office like a scared rabbit he’d decided he’d taken his last drink. He’d wallowed in spirits long enough to know they were not erasing any of the bleeding hurt. “No more spirits,” he pledged.
Mother clapped her hands, a smile on her face. “Excellent! I shall call for tea so we might celebrate!”
She rang for a servant, who materialized almost instantly.
When the servant hurried off, Nick looked Adam square in the eyes. “I was determined to not like Georgina from the moment you all but dragged her from Middlesex Hospital. I’d decided early on that she was unworthy of you, bro
ther.”
A defense sprang to Adam’s lips.
Nick held a hand up. “I believe I was wrong. To have faced down the gossips as she did that night took real courage. I think you can give this marriage a go. Even if you still love another woman.”
I don’t still love another woman. The only woman I love is my wife.
All he said, however, was, “Thank you.”
Nick nodded. Tension seemed to leave his broad shoulders and he managed a half-grin for Adam. “Tony bade me give you a message.”
“Oh?”
“He said you’re a bloody fool, and he can’t come around because if he did, he would lay you low.”
Adam grinned. “Oh, he did, did he?”
Nick smiled back. “He’s quite taken with your wife.”
Adam was saved from answering by the reappearance of the servant with a tray bearing a steaming porcelain pot and three fragile chintz glasses.
As Adam sat down to take tea with his family, he was forced to silently acknowledge to himself, that Tony wasn’t the only one taken with Georgina.
Chapter 24
Georgina wished her orders from the duke had come another day.
She wished Jamie’s note had never arrived.
If they hadn’t, she would have remained ensconced in her chambers and wouldn’t have been on the main level of the house. If she hadn’t been on the main level of the house, she wouldn’t have heard the voices coming from her husband’s library.
The earl exclaimed, “You merely married Georgina because you were nursing a broken heart for Viscount Blakely’s daughter.”
Adam’s reply ripped through her. “That’s right. I’m bitter because I loved and lost Blakely’s daughter.”
Georgina stood, back pressed against the wall outside the library. She fisted a hand against her mouth, biting the top of her hand to keep from crying out as she listened to the very candid exchange between brothers and mother.
“Excellent!” the countess said. “I shall call for tea.”
The words jolted life into Georgina’s petrified legs, jerking her from the trance that had held her immobile. Nothing, however, could drive back the easy camaraderie between Adam and his family as he’d so casually spoken of his love for Grace. It shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that he still loved her. Georgina had watched him toil over a sketchpad, filling page after page with the woman’s haunting beauty.
What cleaved Georgina’s heart in two was the loathing Adam reserved for her. She could never win his heart. It had seemed like an impossibility before when she’d been Georgina the maid. Now… nothing she could do or say would ever ease the repugnance her husband had shown since he’d learned the truth of her paternity. Choking on a sob, Georgina ran down the hall and all but collided with a servant.
“Mrs. Markham. I’m so very sorry,” he stammered.
She continued her flight to the foyer.
Watson appeared. “I need the carriage readied,” she ordered, giving him her destination.
He inclined his head and hurried to do her bidding.
Suzanne appeared, standing at her elbow. “Steady, Mrs. Markham,” she whispered in quiet, soothing tones.
Folding her arms under her breasts, Georgina hugged herself. When she’d gone downstairs to Adam’s office, she’d intended to apologize for striking him. And she’d wanted to see him one more time before she went off on her mission. She wanted possibly the last memory she would have of Adam to be warmer, something she could carry with her in lieu of courage. Her hopes had been dashed yet again—all she was left with were the hurtful, ugly words between brothers who’d seemed united in their disapproval of Georgina.
She wished Watson would return with the news that something was wrong with the conveyance. A broken axle, a missing wheel, a horse in need of a new hoof.
Whoever was in charge of granting Georgina wishes was remarkably poor at what they did, for he reappeared and held the door open.
Georgina gulped down a wave of fear and passed through the door and down to the carriage with Suzanne trailing behind her.
The moment they pulled away, Suzanne began to speak. “Do you remember your orders?”
Georgina nodded. “I committed them to memory.”
“Good,” Suzanne said. “You mustn’t be obvious in your defection. They will be suspicious. You must tread a fine line between wavering loyalty and anger for your husband. Anything else and they will know you are false.”
The woman continued spewing a sea of orders and instructions until Georgina’s head was swimming.
The carriage rocked to a halt.
“We’ve arrived.” Suzanne rapped the ceiling. The carriage door opened, and the tiger handed Georgina, and then Suzanne, down.
“I’m going to the bookshop. Why don’t you t-take some time to yourself.”
“Oh, I mustn’t,” Suzanne insisted, playing her part to perfection.
Georgina waved her hand. “Truly, I’ll be fine.”
Suzanne sank into a deep curtsy, her eyes wide with very believable, yet feigned, appreciation. “Very well. Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Markham!” She hurried off to go wherever her orders had indicated she should be.
Georgina peered down the street. First left. Then right. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she faced the door and entered Ye Olde Bookshop.
The wizened merchant appeared almost instantly. His eyes lit with recognition. Most assuredly due to the great amount she’d last spent in his establishment.
“Good day. How are you?”
Georgina pasted a smile to her face. “Very well,” Georgina lied.
“I’ve recently acquired new books on art.”
“Just splendid,” she forced out. Her life was in shambles and soon, most likely forfeit. The last thing she cared about was books.
He proceeded to carry on a conversation for one, his voice a droning buzz, so that all she wanted was to clamp her hand over her ears and demand he leave her to her misery. She followed him down the long aisle, coming to stop at a very familiar row of books.
This is where I last saw Jamie. Where I first met the duke.
She expected to feel the stirrings of fear and trepidation. Instead, she felt a peculiar nothingness. “Thank you,” she murmured and watched as the merchant hurried off.
Georgina stared at the vast stretch of volumes, the titles a blur of leather. How she longed for this mission to be over.
And then what? Nothing will have changed with Adam. You shall still be the traitorous daughter of the infamous Fox.
To give herself something to do, she touched book after book, counting them as she went.
One hundred and six. One hundred and seven. One hundred and…
“Hullo, Georgina.”
Eight.
Her finger froze on one hundred and nine, toying with the gold lettering. “Jamie.” She didn’t bother to look at him.
I lied, her mind screeched. I am afraid.
Jamie sidled up beside her. He clasped book one hundred and nine and plucked it from the shelf. She peeked at him out the corner of her eye. He leafed through the pages, skimming the words. “You came,” he said.
Suzanne’s reminder knocked around in her brain. “I wasn’t going to,” she lied. “I…I shouldn’t be here.” She turned on her heel as if to leave, and a large part of her prayed that he’d let her go and never bother her with his and Father’s contemptible efforts again.
Jamie placed himself in front of her, blocking her path. “Don’t go.” He took her hands in his.
Georgina’s insides tightened with revulsion. Remembering the day he’d forced his attentions on her, she had to fight the urge to throw off his touch. “I c-can’t d-do this, Jamie. He is my husband.”
He raised her gloved fingers to his lips then pulled back the thin mint green fabric and placed a lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist.
Bile climbed up her throat, and she had to swallow several times to keep from being sick at his feet.
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br /> I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
He spoke, seeming wholly unaware of her repulsion. “But you are here, Georgie. You are here, because you know he loves another woman and is undeserving of you.”
She managed a jerky nod, praying he’d release her.
He tugged her glove all the way free and continued to hold onto her. He stroked a path over her palm with the pad of his thumb. “And you want to hurt him, don’t you?” Jamie didn’t allow her to respond, just lowered his head and kissed her.
Georgina gasped at the absolute shock of his assault, but he took her mouth falling open as assent. He raped her mouth, sullying her tongue with his assault. He cupped her buttocks in a hard, unrelenting grip and squeezed the soft flesh.
This time it couldn’t be helped — she gagged.
She jerked back, colliding with the shelving. A lone book tumbled to the floor, landing with an almost soundless thump.
Jamie’s pale blue eyes were glassy with desire.
“We can’t. Not…not here,” she managed, praying he believed that to be the true reason for her denial. She fought the urge to wipe her mouth, to scrub away the taste of him. “I don’t have much time.”
That seemed to sober him. He nodded. “We’re looking for names of those men and women assisting the Crown.”
“Women?” she squeaked.
Jamie patted her head as if she were a small girl. “Yes, my love. Men and women form part of this organization. We’ve already identified three members of the society. We need the others.”
“Will you hurt them?” she couldn’t keep from asking.
His lips twisted in a chilling rendition of a smile. “Do not worry about them.”
Georgina bit down hard on her lip and, fearing he could read the lies in her eyes, forced her gaze to the floor. “I found a list.” Not wishing to appear too obvious in her deception, she sought to cast doubt. “But it had nothing on it aside from several names. There was nothing else on it.”