The Unthinkable (35 page)

Suddenly Genie saw the events of the past in a very different light. He’d made mistakes, but he was not responsible for everything that had happened to her. Along the way, both of them had made choices. She could have stayed and forced him to marry her. At the time, when the duchess had approached her with her offer, she hadn’t seen any other choice. She’d been naïve, innocent, and too intimidated by her position to defy her. But Genie realized if the same thing happened today, she would stay and fight.

She’d grown, why couldn’t she accept that he might have as well?

“There are a lot of things I’d like to take back and do over again.”

He smiled faintly at her words. “If I’ve learned anything over the past couple months, it’s that we can’t go back. All we can do is build for the future. I can’t change what happened in the past. All I can do is swear that I will do my best to make sure it never happens again. If you give me your trust again, I swear I’ll do everything in my power never to fail you again.” He lowered his mouth so that it was only a few tantalizing inches from her own. “Trust me, Genie.”

And then his mouth covered hers.

If last night he’d showed her his passion, with this kiss he showed her his heart. Slowly, his mouth moved over hers, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss that filled her with instant longing. A sweet, aching seduction that promised so much and ended far too soon. Giving her a long, piercing look he left her alone with his vow ringing in her ears.

Trust me
. Words that had haunted her dreams. But this time they did not fuel her vengeance. Because this time, she wanted to believe him.

The weeks after the wedding passed quickly. In the beginning Genie was occupied with entertaining the hunting party and then, when the last guests had departed, with the difficult task of learning how to manage a household far larger than her girlhood training had ever contemplated. The duke had forty full-time servants at Donnington alone. Add the servants scattered about his other properties, and she was responsible for nearly one hundred people.

Bidding farewell to her friends had not been easy. Lady Hawkesbury and Caro’s departure had been difficult, but by far the most painful leave taking was Edmund’s. His departure had left a void that could not easily be filled. They’d been together for over a year and she’d come to rely more than she realized on the constancy of his friendship.

If only for necessity’s sake, an unspoken truce had been forged between Genie and the dowager duchess. Huntingdon’s mother was certainly a proficient instructor in the inner workings of the household, but Genie was surprised to find that behind the proud façade lurked a dry wit. She was a strong woman with a keen intellect and frank manner—not unlike Lady Hawkesbury. Under different circumstances, Genie might even have admired her. With all that had happened they would never be close, but by her willingness and patience to help Genie learn the intricacies of her duties, she’d earned Genie’s grudging respect.

Of her husband, Genie didn’t know what to think. Huntingdon confused and confounded her. Thankfully, he had chosen not to question her any further on what had caused her sudden loss of passion on their wedding night. At times she wondered whether he’d lost interest in that facet of their marriage. Though he danced attendance upon her during the day like the most ardent admirer, the door separating their rooms had remained firmly closed. At every opportunity, he stole kisses, but he kissed her with such sweet tenderness, Genie wondered whether his passion for her had tempered. The possibility that the savage urgency with which he usually kissed her might be gone bothered her more than she wanted to acknowledge.

Yet despite the unresolved issue of their marital bed, life in the country had brought Genie a sense of peace that had previously eluded her. Donnington Park was the country house she’d always dreamed of—and more. The house was as elegant as any palace with every modern convenience. The gardens and grounds were enchanting. The longer she spent at Donnington, the more she realized how much she could come to love it.

If it were possible.

With one last glance in the looking glass, Genie adjusted her emerald-green bonnet and made her way down to the stables. An invitation to join Huntingdon on his morning ride a few weeks ago had turned into a daily ritual. One that she enjoyed, far more than was prudent.

Ten minutes later she entered the stables.

“There you are.” He flashed her that brilliant lopsided grin that never failed to tug at her heartstrings. “I was beginning to wonder whether I’d have to send someone up to wake you.”

He took her hand to assist her in mounting her horse. Shockwaves of awareness tingled down her spine. Genie knew she was in trouble. Every day that she spent at Donnington, the deeper she fell under his spell. The relaxed charm was reminiscent of the youth, but far more devastating when set against the power of the man he had become. Whether conducting estate business, dealing with the mills and factories, or settling a dispute between two of his younger siblings, he exuded strength and capability in everything he did. And he’d put all of that strength and determination to work in trying to woo her. A patient seduction, but one that was not without substantial effect.

“I’m sorry, did I keep you waiting?” she asked innocently, well aware that she was late.

He brought her hand to his mouth. “It was well worth the wait, you look ravishing. Good enough to eat.” Her cheeks pinkened, not from the pretty compliment but from the lazy suggestive look he gave her as he placed a lingering kiss on her hand before releasing it.

Ignoring the sudden racing of her heart, she asked, “Where are we riding today?” Usually they rode out to inspect the property, the livestock, or to attend to some business for the tenants. A few times he’d taken her to the mills and once to the mines at Ashby. One day last week he’d even taken her to the Huntingdon family’s ruined ancestral seat—the Castle at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, slighted during the civil war. The castle that had inspired Sir Walter Scott’s
Ivanhoe
was truly magical.

“Ah, no pressing business to attend to today, so I thought we’d go to the lake. Chef has packed a special surprise for you.”

A picnic. She glanced up at the gray skies. Rather late in the season, but Genie did not mind the crisp temperature as long as the rain kept at bay. She tried not to think of other such outings long ago, but the similarities were impossible to ignore. Nor could she manage to rouse the anger that such memories usually entailed. Those people seemed so far away, and nearly unrecognizable from the people they were today. And for the first time, Genie allowed that perhaps that was not such a horrible thing.

They rode for a while, occasionally stopping to speak with a tenant or a worker, waving politely to others as they passed.

If she’d had any doubts about how seriously Huntingdon took his position as duke, they were dispelled soon after their first ride together. He immersed himself in every detail of the estate. That involvement was well rewarded with the unqualified respect of those around him.

Not that he didn’t have his faults. He didn’t like being told no, and stubbornly pressed on determined to find a solution often when there was none. He and Stewart butted heads often enough over some such matter.

She glanced over at him, noting the hard square jaw and haughty turn of his mouth. Now, however, Genie recognized that behind the superficial arrogance of his expression, lurked a man very willing to work with the lowest laborer. She’d not soon forget how surprised she’d been the first time he’d tossed off his jacket and joined in repairing a leaking roof or shearing an ornery lamb.

Her eyes lingered on the wide set of his shoulders. At least she’d cleared up one mystery. She no longer wondered where he got those muscles. They were well earned.

In Donnington, Huntingdon was in his element. She recalled what he’d once said about being a displaced farmer, though at the time she’d thought he wasn’t serious. Watching the pride and calm in his expression, now she knew he’d spoken the truth—he didn’t simply possess the land as a benevolent despot, he was part of the land.

“What are you thinking about? You’ve been unusually quiet,” Huntingdon asked as they approached the lake from a spectacular vantage point high on a hill overlooking the water, surrounded by a wispy canopy of trees. The view was breathtaking. Even the bleak gray skies could not detract from the lush autumnal colors of Capability Brown’s pastoral landscaping.

Genie thought for a moment before answering. “Do you remember what you once told me about being a farmer?”

He gave her a long, intense look. She rarely brought up anything about their past. “I remember everything about that time.”

There was nothing suggestive in his tone, only honesty and perhaps a note of regret.

“At the time, I thought you were only trying to ease my embarrassment, but now I’m beginning to wonder whether you spoke the truth.”

He chuckled, those brilliant blue eyes crinkling around the edges. He laughed so much easier these past few weeks. The resemblance to his humorless brother Loudoun had become fainter.

“Well, perhaps it was a bit of both. I must admit that being a duke has its advantages.” His gaze swept over the wide expanse of land around them with no less supreme authority than a conqueror after the battle was won. “Though the life of a farmer is hard, there’s something elegant in the simplicity of a life in such delicate harmony with the land, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps a bit too much in harmony for my taste,” Genie answered honestly. “You paint a pretty picture, but there is nothing romantic about hard work. Nor about blisters, a sore back, or an empty belly. Nor do I envy having the bread that I eat dependent upon the capricious nature of the weather.”

She bit her tongue, knowing she’d said too much.

He gave her a hard, appraising look. Probably surprised by the rare glimpse into her past.

“Perhaps you are right. I did not mean to make light of the difficulties of such a position.”

Genie turned her gaze, but he’d already seen enough.

His voice soothed over her like a mother’s comforting caress. “I hope one day you will tell me what it was like for you, Genie. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be left with no money, all alone in a strange country.” His voice barely rose above the soft clop of their horses. “I admire your strength and bravery. Had I been in the same position, I doubt that I would have fared as well.”

Her throat closed, overwhelmed by the respect in his voice. But he didn’t know how weak she was. “I wasn’t brave, I was scared.” Her voice caught, thick with emotion.

“There is no shame in admitting fear, Genie. When I first inherited the dukedom, I was terrified.”

She raised a brow as if she didn’t believe him.

A small self-conscious smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I assure you it’s the truth. I didn’t think I had what it took. The only time I’d ever faced real difficulty before, I’d failed.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I failed you.” He paused, allowing his words to penetrate. “But that failure made me realize that I didn’t want to be that kind of man. The kind of man who lets people down. When my father and brother died I had a choice. I could rebel against the responsibility as everyone expected, or I could take the more difficult route and change. I chose the latter, and it wasn’t easy. But fear is a very powerful motivator.”

Touched by the little corner of his soul that he’d revealed to her, Genie didn’t know what to say. She stared at the powerful, handsome man before her with new eyes. A man who on the outside appeared to have every confidence, but who on the inside was driven by a fear of failure. Though he obviously thought it was a weakness, to Genie the acknowledgment of vulnerability only made him seem stronger. When their eyes met, a shock surged through her, a deeper connection forged by understanding.

He’d fought to find his success—just as she had.

And she was going to topple him. She shivered, unease chilling her. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? She glanced sideways at him under her lashes and her chest squeezed. The more Genie learned about her new husband, the more she struggled with what she’d done. By now, the letter had surely found the hands of its recipient. The threat of pending doom was like a guillotine hanging over her future. Until it fell, she couldn’t consider the alternatives.

But revenge no longer smelled quite as sweet. In fact, it had begun to stink.

Huntingdon helped Genie dismount and escorted her to a small stone bench beside the lake while the servants laid out the food and drink. Leaves littered the ground, providing all the excuse he needed to wrap his hand around that tiny waist ostensibly to prevent her from slipping. The smell of roses clung to her hair and instinctively he pulled her a little closer, inhaling the fresh scent.

A few weeks ago he would never have dreamed that he would be confiding his insecurities to Genie, but their relationship had changed. He’d changed. In an effort to win her affection, he’d rediscovered some of the lightheartedness that he’d lost. To earn a smile from those beautiful lips, he’d do just about anything. To wipe away unhappiness, he’d bare his soul.

And in spite of herself, she’d warmed to him. Ever since she’d discovered that piece of ribbon, she’d softened. He shook his head. If he’d known, he would have brought it to her attention a long time ago.

There were moments like last week when she’d frolicked about the ruins of Ashby Castle that he’d see flashes of the sweet innocent girl that he remembered, wide-eyed with excitement and wonder. But it wasn’t that girl that made his heart feel as if it could explode. It was the contrast that intrigued him. Beneath the jaded exterior, she was still the girl he’d fallen in love with, only stronger—a harder edge, but she challenged him in ways that he never would have expected.

Yet, even as they drew closer, as the days went on, there were still many questions that had gone unanswered. Though the importance of the answer had diminished, he still wondered why she’d been at the brothel. And did it have anything to do with what had happened on their wedding night? A part of him was certain that something had happened to her, but another part of him wondered whether he was just looking for an excuse for her lack of response to him.
I used to love you
. Her words still haunted him—taunted him.