Punishment for the crime of daring to love a scoundrel.
He made his way to her, not knowing what he was going to say, but knowing that he had to say something. He couldn’t go on like this.
As he drew closer, he didn’t miss the intimate exchange between her and Rockingham. Nor the way the other man’s hand possessively held her arm, or the tender smile she gave him as they looked into each other’s eyes. Coventry’s muscles tensed. Not only had her recovery been swift, but had she already replaced him in her affections? Though he knew he had no right, he couldn’t prevent the spark of jealousy and anger. Anger that only intensified when her eyes washed over him as if he were invisible.
His sense of foreboding increased. With each passing minute, she was slipping farther and farther away from him. Or maybe—he fought a spike of panic—she’d already slipped away for good.
She was cold and remote, every inch the prim and proper lady. It was as if all the emotion had been sucked right out of her, only to be replaced by a beautiful placid mask.
“Oh, James.” Augusta swept to his side as he joined them. “Everything is so beautiful. How can I ever thank you?”
“You already have.” He dropped a brisk kiss on her cheek.
Before he had a chance to say anything further, Augusta launched into a detailed description of all the wonderful and thoughtful things her dear brother had done for her in the past weeks. He appreciated the show of sisterly loyalty, but he wished she’d exercise a bit of restraint. It sounded more like she was making his case for beautification.
Georgina remained unmoved. “Lord Coventry is all that is considerate, I’m sure.”
“A veritable saint,” Ash said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Coventry cast an approving glance to his sister when her elbow accidentally met her fiancé’s stomach. He was trying to think of a way to get Georgina alone, when Rockingham beat him to the punch.
Pulling Georgina tighter under his protective wing, Rockingham said, “If you’ll excuse us.”
And before Coventry could object, Rockingham led her away, leaving Coventry to seethe in silence.
He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been the total lack of emotion. The total indifference. She’d barely deigned to look at him.
He didn’t know what he wanted from her, but it hadn’t been that. He had to think of a way to get her alone. She had every right to be angry and hurt, he reminded himself. But once she learned the truth, she would see that it was all just a mistake… wouldn’t she?
He ignored the sympathetic looks shot his way by Augusta. He didn’t deserve her pity. She didn’t know the truth. Were she to find out, it would certainly tarnish the shine of his armor.
“Are you just going to stand there watching, or do you want to join us?”
He cringed. Christ, had he really said that to her?
Moving away from Augusta and Ash, he circled the room to greet his guests. All the while painstakingly aware of her every movement.
He had to be patient. Rockingham couldn’t stay at her side all night. Sooner or later, he would have to relinquish her. And when he did, Coventry would be waiting.
It didn’t take long. When nature took its inevitable course, he followed her, lying in ambush as she exited the upstairs chamber set aside for the female guests. Fortunately, she did not seem to share the tendency of her sex to visit the room in pairs.
She gasped when he came up behind her. Before she could react, he pulled her back tight against his chest and drew her into an empty chamber. She did not struggle, apparently recognizing him. He had to force himself to release her. The scent of her hair and the sensation of her body pressed against his had already worked its magic. The simple pleasure of holding her in his arms was excruciating in its perfection.
Seeing her tonight had crystallized one thing. He wasn’t closed off. Far from it. Where Georgina was concerned, he felt every blasted thing.
“Did you think to avoid me all night?” he whispered close to her ear.
She spun out of his arms and stared at him with those wide, luminous green eyes as if he were half-crazed. Perhaps he was.
“Truth be told, I didn’t consider it at all.”
“You lie.”
One corner of her mouth lifted with wry amusement. “Your arrogance has not deserted you. You may believe what you wish, Lord Coventry. But since it appears you would like to discuss something with me, please do so, and be done with it.”
Where was the anger? The hurt? The rash of insults he deserved? He wanted to pull her into his arms and shake her. To kiss that delectable mouth until her lips quivered with desire. To force her to acknowledge him.
Unable to stop himself, he reached down to stroke her face, instilling all the regret and tenderness he could into the one small motion. Her skin felt cold. She didn’t move, not even to flinch. It was as if she were made of marble.
Dear God, what had he done to her? To them?
“I want to apologize.”
She laughed, adroitly stepping away from his hold. “For what?”
He didn’t like this at all. This obtuse indifference. What was she doing? Why was she acting like this? Was she trying to goad him? Coventry fought to control his frustration. You deserve it. “For what you saw. It’s not what you think.”
Her eyes turned to ice. “I assure you, you don’t want to know what I think.” She peered down her tiny nose at him. “What precisely is it that you wish to apologize for? There is such a long and distinguished list of transgressions to choose from. Hmm…” She pretended to consider. “Do you apologize for making me believe you were something you are not? For seducing me under false pretense? For breaking your word?” Her voice turned slightly shrill. “For not even giving me the chance to explain before you took another woman to your bed? For getting caught? Or perhaps you are only apologizing for enjoying it?”
Coventry flinched. Though he knew it was no less than he deserved. He took her arm, trying to block out the fresh surge of pain when she shrank from his touch. “Please, hear me out. My conduct was reprehensible, but I did not do what you think. I did not betray you.”
She stared at him, incredulity and outrage written all over her lovely features. “Do you have an evil twin of whom I am not aware?”
He flushed angrily but told himself she had reason for her sarcasm. When she learned the truth, she would understand. “You saw what I wanted you to see. I did not enter her. I wasn’t… I couldn’t…” He raked his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. “I wasn’t hard, damn it.”
She stared at him for so long that he wanted to squirm. Hell, he probably was.
“So her cries of pleasure were all for show?”
He hoped he didn’t look as uncomfortable as he felt. “They were real, they just had nothing to do with anything I was doing to her.”
“Is that…?” She stopped her question, shaking her head as if it didn’t matter. Meeting his gaze challengingly, she said, “So you had a naked woman on your lap who was touching you—stroking you—intimately, who was taking her pleasure in your lap, but because you only made it look as if you found pleasure in the act to hurt me, but didn’t have the capability of entering her, it really wasn’t a betrayal, is that it?”
When she said it like that, it didn’t sound as instantly understandable as he thought. “Believe me, Gina, if I could take back all of it, I would.”
“But you can’t. And you’ve lost the right to call me that.” She held his gaze for a long moment. “Answer me this. If your body had cooperated, would we still be having this conversation?”
He was definitely squirming now. “I won’t lie to you. I went to Wycombe that night with every intention of erasing my memories of you.” He felt her stiffen; his heart squeezed at the pain he was causing her. But it was necessary. She deserved the truth. “But when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it.”
“How disappointing that must have been for you. But buck up”—he
winced at what he was sure was a reference to the woman’s words that night—“I’m sure things will return to normal soon enough, and your rampant promiscuity will return in full force.”
“You don’t understand. I was hurt, I was only trying to get back at you.”
“Congratulations, you won.”
“It’s not a game, damn it.”
“That’s just it—it was. It was a silly, stupid game that had you given me a chance to explain, I would have told you I had already put an end to. But you, my lord, are a master at gamesmanship. You took the game of play to a level with which I cannot compete.”
“I made a mistake, Georgina, but I did not take another woman to my bed. I did not make love to her. Indeed, I was about to stop until you entered the room. My ‘passion’ was all for show, and was over the moment you left. It seems I have lost the taste for meaningless liaisons. I only want you.”
“If that is true, I’m afraid that leaves you in a bit of a bind.”
He ignored the sarcasm, reminding himself that he deserved her jeers. But her imperviousness was getting to him. “My only regret is that my realization came too late to undo the pain I put you through.”
“Yes, it is my misfortune that you’ve had this grand epiphany after I had the pleasure of witnessing the depths of your depravity, and the lengths you would go to hurt me.” She remained implacable, as remote as she’d looked the first time he’d seen her.
“I’m sorry, Georgina. From the depths of my soul, I’m sorry.”
“What exactly is it that you are sorry for? Not the intention, but the failure in execution? The fact that you didn’t actually go through with it means precisely what? That I should trust you? That the next naked woman I find on your lap also means nothing?”
The stubborn gel certainly knew how to infuriate him. “You deliberately misunderstand me. I’m trying to apologize for both—”
“Apology accepted. Is that all?”
“No, that is not all,” he roared.
She calmly tapped her foot.
Coventry gritted his teeth. He had to do something. He had to make her understand. “I have not apologized for everything.”
“There is no need. If it is absolution that you seek, you may have it. Your conscience may be at rest.”
His jaw clenched. “I do not seek absolution.” What was it? What was it that he sought? “I want to make things right.” And there was only one way to do so. “I promised you marriage.”
He heard the sharp intake of breath before she turned away. “Obviously, I will not hold you to our bargain. As you said yourself, we did not suit.”
He took a step closer to her. She stilled. The room seemed to vibrate with awareness. He reached down to stroke the soft skin of her arm above the length of her glove until she looked at him. His voice grew husky. “I lied. We suited perfectly. So perfectly that it seems I can’t forget you.”
“And because you can’t forget me, you wish to marry me?” She looked incredulous, jerking her arm away from his fingers. “What am I supposed to do? Leap at the chance to marry a man who has shown by his conduct that he does not love or esteem me in any manner? Should I be grateful at this unexpected turn of honor? God above, I think not!”
He couldn’t believe it. “You are refusing me?”
“Assuming that was a proposal, I am.”
“And if there is a child?”
The blood drained from her face. “On that account, you need not worry.” Her flat tone matched her eyes.
Coventry felt an unexpected stab of regret.
He raked his fingers back through his hair. He’d made a mess of this. He’d spoken in haste, his proposal inelegant and badly done, he didn’t blame her for refusing. What could he do? What could he say to make her understand? She was slipping through his fingers. Slipped. He couldn’t lose her. He felt as if he was spinning in a whirlpool, unable to swim out, before slowly being pulled under.
He grabbed her arm. “Look. I don’t think you understand. You have to marry me.”
“Why?”
He paused. After so many years of denying all feeling, the words were not easy to say. “Because I love you.”
Her brows peaked in unison. “That is your misfortune,” she said, not missing a beat. His cold words came back to him. “Though from your actions, I doubt you even know the meaning of the words.”
He was doing this all wrong. But she’d frustrated him, provoked him with her indifference. “You said you loved me.”
“I did.”
His heart skipped. Did. Past tense. He refused to accept that he’d lost her. Not now. Not when he was just beginning to realize how much he needed her. “But you must still.”
“Why must I? Because now it is convenient for you? Love requires respect and honor. It thrives on it. Without it, it dies. Mine died in a cold cave in hell.”
“You don’t mean it.”
“Of course I do. Why do you persist with this? What do you want from me? Should I crumple at your feet? Does your pride need you to see the pieces of my broken heart? I assure you they are there. But let your guilty conscience be at rest. I will recover. I will not drown myself in drink or put a pistol to my head.” Her voice shook with the dam of emotion that had been broken. “Somewhere there is a man who needs me as much as I need him.”
I do need you. “You’ve found him.”
“Perhaps I have.”
Coventry’s blood ran cold. She was not speaking about him. “You can’t intend to marry Rockingham?”
“Can’t I? It is none of your concern.”
Her attitude infuriated him. She couldn’t marry someone else. He pulled her into his arms, refusing to allow her to deny what was between them. “Are you sure he will want to?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Lord Rockingham is aware of my recent loss of value.”
His face heated, recalling his cruel words. “You told him?”
“It wasn’t necessary. He guessed.”
“But you don’t love him.”
She was stiff and silent in his arms.
“You love me,” he commanded, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, using his lips where words had failed. His heart wept at the familiar sweet honey of her taste, the soft warmth of her lips, the press of her curves against his chest. But it was all wrong. She would not respond. His attempts grew increasingly more desperate. He implored, seduced, begged with his mouth. He kissed her hard then soft. But it was useless. She stood cold and motionless in his arms, until all he could do was release her.
The gravity of his mistake had finally sunk in.
Back held rod straight, she walked to the door. “It appears I, too, have lost my taste for meaningless liaisons.”
Coventry slumped, heavy with the weight of what he’d done. It pressed on him, crushing his chest with undeniable comprehension.
He’d lost her. Before he’d realized just how much he needed her.
Gina burned with barely repressed fury. Not now. He couldn’t propose to her now. Not after what he’d done.
She’d laugh if it hadn’t been so painful. To hear the words she’d ached to hear conveyed as an afterthought. He spoke of promises, of wanting her, of being unable to forget—like she was a bad taste that couldn’t be washed from his mouth. Then, when his efforts to do so proved unsuccessful, he’d claimed to “love” her and expected her to what? Be happy? Be grateful? Be thrilled?
“I love you.” His words echoed in her head. Words to make her weak. If she could believe him.
But how could she when he’d never shown her the truth behind the words. Except once. For a precious few moments on the divan, she’d felt loved. But the sensation had only been a fleeting one. One that had never returned. Instead, he’d ignored her for a week before running into the arms of another woman. Though, if he could be believed, the show had been strictly for her benefit. Did it lessen the betrayal?
The twinge of relief she’d felt on hearing his confession told her it did. But not
enough. The intention had been there.
She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. He’d looked so stunned by her refusal. She knew from his past how difficult those words must be for him to utter, but even if they were true, it was too late.
Her fingers went to her mouth. The taste of him lingered on her lips. Holding firm to her newfound resolve when he kissed her had been nearly impossible. The swell of bittersweet emotion that converged had flooded her with a rash of conflicting memories. She’d wanted nothing more than to succumb to the moment, to let him kiss away the past. But she couldn’t. There were simply some things that a kiss—no matter how sweet—could never make her forget.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
In the days immediately following his failed proposal, Coventry waited for the inevitable disclosure. Georgina had won her wager. She’d achieved what she’d set out to do and brought a notorious rake up to snuff. Why hadn’t she made her victory known?
Or had she?
The door at 60 St. James Street opened. Coventry deposited his hat and cloak with the butler and proceeded on into the expansive coved-ceiling subscription room at Brooks’s. A few heads turned in his direction. As he had each night since Augusta’s engagement ball, Coventry braced himself for the sting of public ridicule, relaxing only when the men turned back to their cards.
They still didn’t know.
He noticed Beaufort motioning to him from across the room and headed in his direction.
Why? Why had she not said anything?
With each day that passed, the answer had become more and more clear. As did the knowledge of just how much he’d wronged her. Her silence only buttressed what he already knew. She had loved him. It hadn’t only been about a wager. It might have started out that way, but in the end she’d fallen in love with him as certainly as he had with her. And he was a fool for destroying the precious gift she’d offered.
“You’re weak.”
Perhaps his father was right. He was nothing but an angry, uncaring, drunken lout. A man who ran to the arms of another woman at the first sign of difficulty. A man who couldn’t trust that a decent woman would find anything worthwhile in him to love. He hadn’t been strong enough to believe in himself. He’d held the promise of happiness in the palm of his hand and he’d let it go. For what? For fear of humiliation? For fear that others would see what his parents had seen? For fear that they might be right?
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