The Unthinkable (13 page)

“If you knew the circumstances…” Hawk began then stopped himself. “I know it seems insufficient, but there are reasons. And as I said, they are not mine to divulge. Suffice it to say that she is not the same girl you remember. I believed then, as I do now, that she was irretrievably lost to you.”

Some of the duke’s rage returned. “How dare you presume to judge. You are in no position—”

“I know,” Edmund agreed pitifully.

“And last night? Was the ‘emergency’ that took me to your estate in Surrey part of your plan?”

Edmund shrugged abashedly. “I admit to desperation, though there was nothing so formal as a plan. Of course, I knew you would eventually discover the identity of my betrothed. I just hoped to formally announce our engagement beforehand. But Genie has proved more obstinate in that respect than I anticipated. She has an unreasonable desire not to see me hurt.” He laughed without amusement at the irony. “She wants to ensure her acceptance by the ton.”

Huntingdon understood. Genie feared that their former liaison might come to light and create a scandal. “There is little chance that our former connection would become known. Our families did a fair job of limiting speculation. It was a long time ago.”

Hawk seemed pleased. “Then there is no impediment to our betrothal. Except for you.” He paused, appearing to brace himself. “I ask that you stand down and not interfere.”

Huntingdon crossed his arms and peered down his nose at Hawk. “Why should I do that?”

“Because she loves me and I will make her happy.”

Huntingdon’s eyes flared for a long moment. Reining in his anger, he chuckled dryly. “Are you so sure? The lady’s love has proved rather inconstant. How do you think she will react when she finds out about your role in all of this?”

“I don’t know.” Hawk’s voice sounded strained. “But it is my problem. You had your opportunity five years ago when you refused to do right by her and marry her. Why would you want her now when you don’t make any pretense of loving her? You don’t need to make the sacrifice to assuage your guilt; I will do it for you, happily. I hope you will not let pride get in the way of doing what is right.”

“You are hardly in a position to lecture me on what is right, my dear Brutus.” Huntingdon warned in a dangerous voice. But Hawk was right. Huntingdon didn’t love her. The lovesick fool had drowned many years ago in drink, gaming hells, and between the loose thighs of too many women. But he still wanted her. Maybe if only to erase the importance of their interlude in his mind.

“Will you stand down?” Hawk repeated.

Huntingdon sank down in his chair and stretched his legs out lazily before him, the whole time intently studying his former friend. Only someone who had known him for as long would realize that Hawk was nervous. Very nervous.

Good. “Afraid of a little competition, my boy?”

Hawk’s jaw twitched at his patronizing tone. “Hardly. Genie despises you.”

Huntingdon ran his finger around the rim of his glass as if deliberating, but really only toying with the impatient Hawk. Huntingdon had already decided what he was going to do. A slow, lazy smile curled his lips. “I’m told there is a very thin line between love and hate.”

Genie couldn’t swallow, a ball of hot tears lodged in her throat. Her eyes burned. But she would not cry; not over yet another man who disappointed her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked softly, her words conspicuously strangled.

And why did it matter as much as it did? Because she had let him in and he had lied to her. A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. And Edmund knew how significant even the most insignificant of lies was to her.

She’d thought him different. She’d
trusted
him as much as she’d thought to trust anyone again. But he, too, had lied to get what he wanted: her. Even dressed in shining armor he was still a man.

Edmund had arrived at Hawkesbury House on Berkeley Square hard on the heels of the departure of their last morning caller. Genie was relieved to see him, knowing that he had come from Huntingdon House, and could barely hide her impatience to speak with him in private. Understanding, the countess discreetly bowed out of the elegant sitting room under the pretense of getting ready for the Duchess of Devonshire’s “intimate” soirée for a hundred guests that they were to attend later that evening.

His dark, tousled hair still damp from bathing, Edmund appeared utterly exhausted. Weariness tugged around his eyes. He probably hadn’t slept at all last night. Genie was afraid the duke might have made good on his threat of a challenge. Edmund promptly allayed her concerns on that matter, sat her down on a small silk upholstered settee, and without further ado blurted out his damning confession.

Genie took a deep breath, allowing the tears to abate. Eyes glassy but composed she turned back to face Edmund.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice hollow. How could she have let it happen again?

Her accusation drew blood. Strong, confident Edmund seemed strangely deflated as he tried to explain. “At first, I didn’t realize who you were. You were so ill; my focus was only to make you well. Later, when you recovered and confided some of your history, I began to suspect that I had accidentally stumbled upon the very woman I’d been sent to discover. My suspicions were finally confirmed when you told me your real name.” Exasperated with the feeble excuse, he tossed up his hands. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I knew how you despised him. I suppose I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Genie scoffed. “You couldn’t possibly believe that I would catch the next ship back to England at the snap of his fingers, merely because his guilty conscience had caught up with him. You couldn’t have thought that. Not with everything you knew.”

“You loved him,” he said simply as if that fact explained everything. “And this was not a whim; he’d searched for you before.”

She ignored this new tidbit of information, though it stopped her for a moment. Huntingdon’s actions after she fled were irrelevant. “I loved a boy. A boy who failed me. You are a man, I expected honesty from you.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous. I started to tell you so many times, but I could never quite get the words out. Perhaps I was reluctant to dull the shine of my armor. I loved the way you looked at me. But no man is perfect, Genie. Certainly not me.”

“I am well aware of that,” she snapped.

“Are you? At times I wonder…” His eyes raked her face, looking for something. “I realized that it was a losing battle. You would eventually find out that Huntingdon was searching for you. I just wanted you safely beyond his reach before you did. He is not the same boy you knew, the man can be very determined.”

“You should have trusted me. I have never been anything but honest with you, Edmund.” Her voice broke to a whisper. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told another living soul.”

The truth of her condemnation struck the fatal blow. He knew he had violated her trust and how much it meant to her. Stricken with shame and remorse, Edmund appeared on the verge of being ill.

“I did trust you. I just didn’t trust myself. Or him,” he muttered as an afterthought.

She stared at him blankly.

“I erred horribly. I should have told you the truth as soon as I suspected. Please tell me you can forgive me?”

Could she? Genie thought about it. It was her fault, really. She never should have let her defenses down. Did she have to be beaten over the head repeatedly for it to sink in? Men would say anything to get what they wanted. Even a man as wonderful and honorable as Edmund. He was all that, she realized. Perhaps that is why his lie hurt so much. She gave him herself, and in the end, her knight, like everyone else, had let her down.

She could forgive, but she would not forget.

“Of course, you are forgiven,” she said firmly. “We will not speak of it again.”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, relief bringing a joyous shine to his eyes.

Fundamentally, she realized, Edmund’s lie did not change anything. She would still marry him. Now, however, she would not suffer under any delusions.

Perhaps she should thank him for allaying any guilt she might have in using any artifice or feminine wiles to encourage his suit.

Genie hadn’t forgotten the debt she owed him. No matter how he came to be there, Edmund had rescued her from hell. Edmund St. George, the 8th Earl of Hawkesbury, would get what he wanted, and so would she. With his name and wealth, she would never find herself at the mercy of a man again.

“I’d hoped to find you alone.”

The deep, silky voice startled her out of her reverie. Genie swung around to find the Duke of Huntingdon at her side. Locked in the tumult of her thoughts, she hadn’t heard him approach. For such a muscular man, he moved as stealthily as a cat.

His face was partially hidden in the shadows of the soft garden moonlight. Hard, blue eyes pierced the smoky veil, glowing unnaturally. Not a cat, more like a panther, she thought. Sleek, dark, and dangerous.

Genie tensed at the intrusion, but held her ground. He stood closer than was proper which she assumed was intentional. Heat radiated from his body. She fought the urge to step away, refusing to let him think his closeness bothered her.

But it did.

It was impossible not to be aware of him. His size alone demanded her attention. The cast of his shadow seemed to have doubled in size over the years. The bulky muscles and broad shoulders were so different.

Good
. She had enough reminders already.

She lifted her chin and met his stare. Again, the change in his demeanor took her aback. The jaunty grin and twinkling eyes had vanished to the point that he seemed to have lost the ability to smile. Even his posture had changed. The relaxed, lackadaisical young man now stood straight and inflexible. This improved her spirits considerably. Change pleased her; it wrought unfamiliarity. The more he seemed a stranger, the less chance there was for her memories to blur the space of time and confuse her.

Genie steeled herself for the inevitable; she’d known she could not evade him forever. Huntingdon, the man, no longer shied from unpleasantness.

“I desired a breath of fresh air and Edmund is engaged at the gaming tables.” Her gaze flickered over his blank expression that still managed to convey arrogance by the square set of his jaw and the firm line of his mouth. “But I suspect you know that. You’ve had a remarkable habit of turning up everywhere I’ve been this week.” Every soirée, every ball, every assembly. Even Almack’s. Fortunately, until now, he had not sought to approach her. She’d almost convinced herself that he meant to leave them in peace. She’d almost grown accustomed to seeing him again. Almost.

Genie had done her utmost to avoid him, keeping close to Edmund and the countess. Until now. She screwed her lips together, annoyed that he’d found her alone in Lady Jersey’s garden. After refreshing herself, and using the necessary, she’d slipped out onto the garden path from a side door, trying to escape his constant predatory stare. Like him, it followed her everywhere.

He shrugged noncommittally, neither admitting nor denying. “I looked for you.”

“Apparently, I’m not too difficult to find,” she quipped dryly.

“That’s not what I meant. I looked for you when you disappeared five years ago.”

She clamped her mouth closed, biting back the scathing retort that he only had to look as far as his own mother. It didn’t matter.

“I never meant for things to turn out the way they did.”

“You didn’t?” she said blandly. “I received your letter. I think things turned out precisely as you intended.”

A crack of chagrin appeared in his arrogant façade. “That letter was a mistake. I should never have written it. I felt so much pressure at the time, like I’d been backed into a corner. I reacted. Horribly, I know, but I didn’t know what my mother had planned. I was young and foolish.”

Genie flinched, disappointment surprisingly acute. Part of her had always wondered whether there was some chance that he hadn’t written that horrible note. She’d harbored the tiniest hope that it had all been some atrocious misunderstanding.
Fool
.

“We both were,” she finished for him, not wanting to hear anymore on the subject. “There is no need to explain.”

“I’d like to try.”

Anger mounted at his conceit. As if words could make a difference. “Don’t bother. I know why you’re really here. You should know that you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m afraid you have the advantage.” His mouth curved into a lopsided grin. “You’ll have to explain my motives as I myself am not certain.” He took a seemingly innocuous step closer.

But Genie felt the threat. She couldn’t stand it a moment longer. The nearness of his body, the heat, the subtle spicy scent, combined to overwhelm her senses with his raw masculinity. He affected her much more than she wanted to admit. It was natural, she knew, after what they had once shared. She’d lain naked in his arms for God’s sake. But still, it infuriated her. She broke away, moving a few feet toward the warm, candlelit glow of the ballroom before turning to answer him. “Edmund explained that you refused to back down graciously. He warned that you might try to interfere with our engagement. I don’t know why it should possibly matter to you, but be assured that I have no interest in reliving the past.” The memories were painful enough.

He smiled as if amused by a private joke, but there was no warmth in the sentiment. “Edmund,” he began sarcastically, “shows surprising candor for someone so proficient at holding his tongue about other things.”

Genie flushed with resentment, keenly aware that she had shared those same thoughts. But how dare
he
malign Edmund. Edmund’s dishonesty paled in comparison to his own. “No more surprised than I in the divergent choice of friends of an
honorable
man like Edmund.”

His gaze narrowed, but otherwise he gave no indication that he understood the disparagement in character that was intended. “I’m no longer a foolish boy, Mrs. Preston.” He took an intimidating step toward her. “Edmund is not the only man whose intentions are
honorable
.”