The Unthinkable (12 page)

She flinched. For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow of pain cross over her before the cool emotionless curtain dropped back into position. She lifted her chin and met his mocking tone. “As have you,
Your Grace
.”

He couldn’t conceal his rabid curiosity. “And what of
Mr
. Preston?”

The small smile she gave him did not reach her eyes. “A soldier, Your Grace. He fell at Vimeiro, not two years after we married,” she parried, wielding her sword with pinpoint finesse, pinning his heart with the tip of her blade.

“My condolences,” he murmured as the air squeezed from his lungs. The Battle of Vimeiro was in August of ’08, meaning that she must have met and married her soldier soon after she’d fled Thornbury in November. Perhaps on the very ship that had carried her away from him. He fought to breathe normally. Clearly, she’d spared little time “getting over” him. Huntingdon held his expression even, but the load of guilt he’d been carrying for so many years combusted in his chest.

Their eyes met and held one last time. Hostility sparked between them like a vicious lightning storm. He was in no danger of romanticizing their past now. The past was gone. He didn’t even have the memories to cherish any longer.

This time when she and Hawkesbury moved away, he let them go.

Genie held her breath as Edmund steered her away from the duke. If she’d been forced to stand there one minute longer, biting back all the accusations she yearned to fling at him, she would have been in danger of screeching like a madwoman. That would certainly make a lasting impression on the ton.

Fortunately, Genie recalled what was at stake and maintained her façade of disinterest, an impressive enough performance to convince even the most curious that she was not a part of the disagreement between the two esteemed peers. Nothing would interfere with her debut, she vowed. Not even the blasted 12th Duke of Huntingdon.

Despite her forbearance in curtailing her temper, inwardly Genie seethed with indignation. How dare he assault Edmund then direct his venom toward her! Blaming her for his failures. Though his face retained its granitelike composure, she could not miss the brittle sarcasm of his conversation. He thought she’d benefited from her forced exile. She wanted to laugh at the irony. If he only knew how wrong he was.

He’d made her so angry, Genie had been unable to resist taunting him with her supposed hasty marriage. His self-righteous attitude had egged her on. The new Duke of Huntingdon was the same arrogant man she remembered, without the good humor. The irrepressible charm that had drawn her to him had turned stern and malignant.

She glanced up at Edmund, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Loss of good humor seemed to be a common affliction this night. Edmund had never looked so grave.

“What was that all about?” she asked Edmund as soon as they cleared the crowd.

“Unresolved issues.”

“I gathered as much,” she said wryly. “Will you not tell me the reason that you and Huntingdon nearly came to blows?”

Edmund met her gaze. Worry casted his handsome face in a gray, sickly light. “I fear what I have to tell you may change your good opinion of me.”

“Nothing you do could alter my esteem and love for you,” she said earnestly. “After all, you have restored my faith in honorable men.”

Rather than console him, her praise only served to heighten his discomfort. “That is a heavy mantle for any man to bear. I fear I may disappoint you.”

“Never,” Genie said with conviction. “I could never forget everything you have done for me.”

“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said angrily.

“But you shall always have it.” She put her hand on his. “Though that is not why I love you. You are a good man, Edmund St. George. The best. Any woman would be a fool not to love you. And I am no fool. Whatever it is you have done, you can tell me.”

Edmund raked his fingers through his hair, weighing his words with obvious precision. “I should have told you sooner. I meant to,” he mumbled distractedly. Looking around he said, “Tomorrow I will explain everything. This is not the place for private conversation.”

“Very well. It all sounds so tantalizingly mysterious. But I will not press… until tomorrow.” She had her own problems with which to attend.

When Prinny finally departed, the Countess of Hawkesbury was found and the small party quit the waning delights of the magnificent fete to call for the earl’s carriage. With so many guests having reached a similar conclusion, the wait again proved interminable.

Conversation lulled to a welcome halt. The evening had proved an exhausting one for all, each for very different reasons. Content with her own thoughts for company, Genie welcomed the opportunity to consider all that had occurred.

All in all, the evening had been a success. The ton had embraced her, she had secured the coveted invitation to Almack’s, and she had acquitted herself well in the face of potential disaster.

She had almost lost control but had managed to hold her tongue. Though Huntingdon’s appearance at the fete was not unexpected, Genie clearly had not been as prepared as she thought to see him. But now it was behind her.

His joy at seeing her had disarmed her. As had his sudden anger first directed at Edmund then at her. One thing was certain, his behavior could hardly be termed “indifferent” as she had hoped. But what significance did that have for her plans with Edmund? Would he interfere?

His odd reaction still niggled at her. Why had he seemed so happy to see her? Perhaps he regretted his harsh treatment of her all those years ago?

Did it matter?

No. She realized that it didn’t. All the regret in the world could not return what she had lost. His feelings were immaterial. She was relieved to discover that she no longer cared. All she wanted now was to protect her future, and for that she needed a plan to secure his cooperation.

She had to find out whether the duke would maintain discretion regarding their prior connection. There was no reason to suspect that he would have any interest in rehashing the past, but she had to make sure that he did not hint at what had transpired between them. Surely people in Thornbury must have speculated about the reasons for her swift departure, but she had no idea of how far afield those suspicions might have traveled. In any event she did not want to be connected with Huntingdon. It might provoke more questions about her past than she had answers for.

Her thin veil of respectability had to be protected at all costs. She knew the knife’s edge upon which she walked.

That the duchess resided in the country was admittedly a welcome boon. Would that all her problems proved as simple. Fanny and Lizzie, for example, might both be in town. How she longed to see her sister. She’d made a few discreet inquiries, but without explaining the connection, obtaining information on Lizzie proved difficult.

But her primary concern was the duke.

The young man she’d fallen in love with had changed, and not just in rank and appearance. No, the change was more elemental; his character had changed. The youth that had been quick with a smile and a jest, had transformed into a hard man, quick to temper. A man who no longer shied from confrontation. More important, Genie sensed that he might not be so easy to persuade as she had anticipated. She’d assumed he would be eager to forget the shame of what he’d done. But he didn’t seem embarrassed or ashamed at all.

No matter, Genie had also changed and she was well prepared for whatever challenge he could muster.

Confined once again within the silken walls of the carriage, Genie relaxed. All the excitement and nervous energy that had accompanied her on her arrival had fled along with the oppressive heat. She closed her eyes, allowing the gentle sway of the carriage to ease the storm of worries in her mind.

The night that began with a bang of promise, then fizzled to an abrupt end with the slow break of dawn. Though she had achieved her objective this night—her debut into society had been a resounding success—Genie couldn’t help but feel that her appearance at the prince’s fete had opened a Pandora’s box.

The Duke of Huntingdon hunched over his desk and swirled the viscous amber liquid in the cut crystal glass before draining the contents in one deep gulp. Another followed. And another. Soon he lost count. The sun had risen hours ago, at last putting an end to a night that he wanted to forget. Closeted in his private study, heavy velvet curtains closed to block the offending light, the memories of all that had transpired stuck. Not even inebriation could dull the lingering emotion still smoldering in his chest, kindled by disappointment and betrayal.

Sweet, innocent Genie had betrayed him as surely as Hawk. That it was undoubtedly deserved did not lessen the pain. Nor make him feel less of a fool.

He’d romanticized a youthful liaison, relegating it to such enormous proportions, he was bound to be disappointed by reality. He just never expected the truth to be so painful. Had he honestly meant that little to her?

After so many years shouldering the blame for the disastrous end to their affair, it felt strangely traitorous to contemplate ulterior motives on her behalf. Could she have had a different purpose all along? Could she have entered into a love affair with him knowing that his family would buy her off rather than see him marry so far beneath them? He couldn’t believe it of her. It didn’t fit with his memory of the sweet, naïve country girl.

But it did seem more in line with the cool beauty who stood on the walkway of Carlton House and acted as if she barely knew him.

At least he had one answer. Genie’s sudden marriage explained why she hadn’t returned to England. Why she hadn’t come back to fight for him as she’d vowed to his mother?

What a damned idiot he’d been. He was embarrassed for all the times that he’d thought about her over the past five years, for the pedestal on which he’d placed her, for the comparisons to other women who had always fallen impossibly short of her perfection.

He’d spent the years since they’d parted chasing after something that had never been. The way he’d agonized after she’d left, the years of searching all seemed laughable now.

Five years ago he’d loved her with all the unfettered passion of youth. The intensity of his feelings had terrified him. It was too strong, too fast. Too much. And he’d been too inexperienced to realize that he had stumbled onto something worth fighting for.

As intensely as he’d loved, he suffered doubly when she left. He’d tortured himself for months trying to find her, but she’d disappeared without a trace.

He took a deep breath, clearing the painful memories. That was a long time ago. Thankfully, he’d put those dangerous feelings behind him. He would never give himself up to a love like that again; it was far too destructive. The guilt, the suffering, the frustration of not being able to find her, was something he never cared to repeat.

Unfortunately, her quick marriage did not erase the fact that he’d acted dishonorably; Huntingdon could not be absolved that easily. But the insatiable drive to redeem himself no longer burned quite so intensely. He’d lived with guilt for so long, he acknowledged that the burden might prove difficult to relinquish.

He’d always felt that something terrible had happened to Genie in America that prevented her from returning to her family, if not to him. What else would explain her silence all these years? He’d made it his personal crusade to find her, to convince himself that she was unharmed. And because he never seriously contemplated marriage, it had never occurred to him that she would.

Fool.

The door opened and the Earl of Hawkesbury strode in unaccompanied. Apparently Huntingdon had neglected to instruct Grimes that his former best friend should now be announced like any other stranger.

Hawk took one look at him and said, “You look like hell. Haven’t you slept?”

Huntingdon glared at him with bloodshot eyes, taking in Hawk’s equally bedraggled appearance. He, too, still wore his evening clothes. The rage he’d felt last night at Hawk had diminished. Though he was not as drunk as he’d like to be for this conversation, his temper had cooled. He wanted answers. “Have you?” he returned.

Hawk’s mouth curved into something that vaguely resembled a smile. He bowed and tipped his hat as if to say touché.

Though the duke had not given him leave, Hawk sank down in a chair opposite him. He reached across the desk and helped himself to a generous pour of Huntingdon’s best brandy.

They stared at each other, both unsure how to approach the insurmountable barrier erected between them. A lifetime of friendship desecrated by one unforgivable act.

Huntingdon tapped the empty glass in his hand with his fingertips, the dull clink resonating in the silence. Finally, he spoke. “Does she know?” His voice sounded sluggish, rough from drink and lack of sleep.

“Know that you sent me to America to find her?”

Huntingdon nodded.

“No,” Hawk said tightly. “Though she will later today.”

Huntingdon raised a brow. “No excuses?”

Hawk sighed wearily. “Would it make a difference?”

“It might. I should like to think that my oldest friend did not set out to betray me.”

“I didn’t.” Hawk stopped, searching for the right words. “There are things I can’t discuss, but I can tell you that I did not know who she was when I found her. She is much changed from your description…” He looked to Huntingdon for confirmation.

“Yes, she is,” Huntingdon acknowledged reluctantly. “I barely recognized her.”

Hawk nodded and continued. “When I first met her she was going by the name of Mrs. Ginny Preston. She only revealed who she was a month ago, by then it was too late. I was already in love with her. She trusted me. I couldn’t risk losing her.”

Huntingdon gritted his teeth. The litany of accusations he’d been holding back shot forth. “Your losing her? You of all people know what I have gone through to find her. How I searched for her that first year without any trail to be found. How I drowned my shame and disappointment in drink and women. You were there. You pulled me out of the gutter. You know how much I have blamed myself for her being forced to leave her home, how much I’ve wanted to rectify my conduct. How relieved I was when my mother finally broke her silence and gave me a place to search. It was you who offered to go in my stead when Prinny wouldn’t allow me to leave England last year and I was about to commit treason and go anyway, throwing my political aspirations to the wind.” He stood up, yanked the curtain open to gaze out the window, turning his back to Hawk. His voice shook. “How could you?”