The Unthinkable (30 page)

“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.

Genie felt herself smile in return, hard-pressed to remain unaffected. Huntingdon seemed different these past couple days. Lighthearted. Happy. Playful. Not so serious. More like the boy she’d remembered than the hard, quick-tempered man she didn’t.

Indeed, there had been so many moments of unexpected thoughtfulness these past two days, she’d wondered if perhaps he’d been telling the truth in the conservatory. Had she misjudged him? Had he truly been trying to do the right thing? The timing was just so suspicious.

What if he wasn’t trying to avoid scandal? What if that strange episode with the carriage was the cause of his sudden change of heart? She couldn’t get that incident out of her mind. Clearly, he’d feared an accident. Considering their long delay and the death of his father and brother in similar circumstances, she couldn’t blame him for being worried. It was the magnitude of his worry that surprised her. He’d feared for
her
. Which meant he cared for her. Undeniably, from that moment on he’d behaved quite differently, seducing her with kindness.

She almost wished that he would go back to being angry and severe; it was far easier to hate him that way.

Huntingdon took Caro’s hand and lifted it to his mouth. “I’m delighted that you were able to join us on such short notice. As you can see, it’s a small celebration. I regret that Lord Castleton was unable to come, but I hope you and Lady Castleton will stay for the hunt.”

“We’d be delighted,” Caro answered on behalf of both women. “My husband is in Scotland, and he will be very disappointed to have missed meeting Genie, whom he’s heard so much about.” Caro looked about the room, her eyes narrowed slightly. “I was hoping that Lizzie might be here?” she asked gently.

Genie felt a sharp pang of sadness and shook her head.

Huntingdon slipped his hand around her waist. “The duchess and I hope to travel to Thornbury soon, and celebrate with her family at that time,” he explained for her.

“Oh, I see,” Caro said, though it was clear that she didn’t.

The absence of her family was the most obvious indication that everything might not be as wonderful as it seemed. Huntingdon had of course written to her father with the news of their impending nuptials, but he hadn’t pushed the matter of her family’s attendance—somehow understanding that she wasn’t ready to see them. She wasn’t, but not for the reason he thought. It wasn’t shame preventing her from reuniting with her family; she didn’t want to have to lie to them again.

As for Lizzie, the mystery surrounding her had still not been explained to Genie’s satisfaction. Unable to confront Fanny, who’d left soon after Huntingdon did for Donnington, Caro, on that afternoon at Hawkesbury House, had provided only the barest hint of what had happened to Lizzie. Immensely popular during her season in London with Fanny, Lizzie had nonetheless returned to Thornbury, never to be heard from again. As to why, Genie still did not know. She needed to speak with Fanny, but since Genie’s arrival, Fanny had gone out of her way to avoid being alone with her. Apparently, breaking off the engagement with Edmund had not softened Fanny’s opinion of her any. Genie couldn’t blame her.

Caro reluctantly moved on and Genie felt Huntingdon tense at her side as the next group of well-wishers approached.

“So,” Percy drawled. “What other secrets have you been hiding, Mrs. Preston? Or should I say, Miss Prescott?”

Genie fought to control her expression, but she knew she must have paled, because she felt Huntingdon’s hand tighten protectively at her waist.

“Actually, it’s Your Grace,” Huntingdon corrected, his voice edged with steel.

Percy sneered. “Of course, how remiss of me, ‘Your Grace’.”

“Naughty scamp,” Lady Davenport chided, swatting Huntingdon with her fan. “Keeping all of us in the dark about the identity of your bride. Not that you fooled me. Didn’t I tell you these two were in love, Nigel.”

“That you did, dumpling.” Lord Davenport swatted at Huntingdon, who, prepared this time, braced himself before he was knocked over. “You can’t hide anything from my Hyacinth,” Lord Davenport boomed, chest puffed out with pride. “Not to say that she hasn’t been extremely put out, old boy. Keeping such details to yourself. It’s not the thing,” he said, shaking his head. “Not the thing at all.”

“Just look at them,” Lady Davenport cooed with her husband as if Huntingdon and Genie weren’t standing right there. “Have you ever seen a more handsome couple? And so in love!” Genie’s cheeks burned, but Lady Davenport went on, oblivious to the discomfort she was causing. “They can’t keep their eyes off each other. Oh, to be young again,” she said with a long, dramatic sigh. “I remember there was a time when you couldn’t keep your eyes off me,” she said to her husband with a playful pout.

Lord Davenport took her plump hand and brought it to his mouth. “I still can’t, pet. You’re still the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“Nonsense,” Lady Davenport chided, but she blushed like a schoolgirl receiving her first compliment. She turned back to Huntingdon and said starchily, “So what do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

“Yes,” Percy interjected snidely. “We can’t wait to hear the details of how this great romance developed across two continents. Why did you say nothing before of Miss Prescott’s identity as Mrs. Preston at Lady Hawkesbury’s ball? It’s all tantalizingly mysterious.”

“Nothing mysterious,” Huntingdon said offhandedly, as if the question didn’t bother him. “We knew the interest the ton would take in our marriage, we hoped to have some time to ourselves before the
vultures
began to circle.” He stared at Percy, leaving no doubt for whom the emphasis was meant.

Despite the none-too-subtle warning, Percy did not back down. “Hmm, sounds reasonable. But why do I have a sneaking suspicion that you are hiding something?”

Genie was shocked to hear the new dowager duchess intercede. “Why Percy, you dreadful boy,” she said loud enough for everyone around to hear. “You always were such a quarrelsome child. Always trying to stir up trouble. I would have thought you were too old for such nonsense. My son had fond memories of our sojourn in Gloucestershire, and Mrs. Preston in particular, so it was only natural when she returned to England after the death of her husband for him to renew their acquaintance.”

Genie knew her eyes must be as round as saucers. Even Huntingdon looked surprised. She couldn’t believe it. The Duchess of Huntingdon had just come to her defense.

Lady Davenport finally seemed to comprehend that Percy was being rude. “Come along, Percy. You’ve made quite enough of a nuisance of yourself for one day.”

“That’s right, son,” Lord Davenport guffawed. “Save some for tomorrow.”

Red-faced and furious, Percy moved away. Genie relaxed, suddenly very conscious of the firm hand around her waist and the warmth of the powerful body pressed so close to her side.

Huntingdon leaned down. “Stay away from Percy,” he warned, sending shivers down her neck with the soft tingle of his breath.

Genie nodded, ignoring his high-handed command, for once they were in agreement. Lord Percival Davenport was like an asp, coiled and waiting to spring.

But rather than just issue the order (as he usually did), Huntingdon surprised her by explaining further. “I’d hoped to curtail his interest in you at the Hawkesbury ball, which is why I ignored his snide remarks.”

Genie’s eyes widened. So that was why he’d not defended her.

“You see what he’s like,” Huntingdon continued. “Since we were children he’s had an unreasonable hatred of me. When I became duke, even more so.”

“He envies you.”

Huntingdon looked at her hard. “Maybe. In any event, now that he knows you’re the girl from my past, I’m afraid his suspicious appetite has been whet. He’ll be insatiable, looking for anything to hurt me.” He took her chin in his hand, and drew her gaze to his. “Including using you.”

Her heart clutched at the huskiness in his voice. She was powerless to resist the blue sea of his eyes, stormy with emotion born of concern. When he allowed her a glimpse of what lay buried beneath the wall of reserve, it made her wonder whether it was possible to forget.

“I’ll be careful,” she promised—and meant it.

A shiver of apprehension slid down her neck. Whether a premonition of disaster or merely a response to the tone of his voice she didn’t know. But one thing was for certain: The fact that her plans overlapped with Percy’s bothered her. It smacked of cruelty. But she was different from Percy. Her revenge was justified. Wasn’t it?

She squared her shoulders, subtly shifting her body away from Huntingdon. It was too late for second thoughts. The letter was posted this morning. All that remained was to see whether the recipient took the bait.

Her confrontation with Fanny had been put off for too long. Genie could handle the barely concealed venomous glances, but she needed to find out what Fanny’s anger had to do with Lizzie.

Genie had kept her eye on Fanny during the long wedding breakfast, waiting for an opportunity. It wouldn’t be too long, if the amount of champagne Fanny had consumed was any indication. When Fanny excused herself, Genie followed her and waited for her on a chaise in her bedchamber. Yet another of the incredible improvements made to Donnington were that many of the bedchambers were connected to a bathing room with hot and cold baths and Bramah water closets.

Fanny’s surprise upon seeing Genie was not of the pleasant persuasion.

“What are you doing here?”

Genie smiled at the frowning girl, ignoring her rudeness. “I believe it’s time we spoke.”

Fanny lifted her chin defiantly. “Is that an order, Your Grace?”

Her question took Genie aback. She was a duchess. She took precedence over just about everyone, including Fanny. Genie
could
order her if she wanted to. How strange.

She shook her head. “No, it’s a request. We were close as sisters once, now that we
are
sisters I should like to be friends again.”

Fanny made a small sound through her nose. “I hardly think that is likely.”

The girl was trying her patience. “What did I do to earn your contempt, Fanny? And what does it have to do with Lizzie?”

“So you
do
remember that you have a sister.”

“Of course I do,” Genie exclaimed, shocked. “How could you say such a thing? Lizzie and I were as close as any sisters could be.”

“And yet you left without as much as a by-your-leave. Without explanation.”

Memories of that painful time assailed her. She hated thinking about the days before she’d left for America. How weak she’d felt. How helpless. How impossibly hurt. Genie stood and walked to the window. “I had no choice,” she said dully, feeling her throat tighten. “It was partly for Lizzie that I left.”