The Unthinkable (8 page)

Hastings glanced meaningfully to the grass where the blanket had rested only moments ago, and lifted an arrogant brow. “Is there not?”

Genie giggled; he was incorrigible.

“What would you have me do then, fair maiden, to win your heart?” he implored dramatically.

“Hmm.” She pretended to consider. “I think slaying a dragon or two will suffice.”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth. His face turned grave. Instead of the flippant reply she expected, he said, “For you, my love, I would slay a hundred dragons.”

Her heart squeezed. He sounded so sincere, she had to believe him. How could she not with him kneeling before her, an endearing, romantic expression cast across his handsome features, the sun shining on the shimmering strands of gold in his hair. This amazing man could do anything.

She wanted to hold on to this moment forever. The splendor, the vitality, the promise of young love seemed ripe with endless possibility. The magic of what they’d just shared filled her with happiness. At that moment, everything she ever wanted seemed to be at her fingertips.

But a scurrilous thought burrowed into the hidden recesses of her mind, casting a dark shadow across their fun. Were the dragons only in her imagination or did they lurk somewhere beyond the veil of paradise, preying in the darkness ready to pounce on their happiness?

“Oh, Lizzie, he’s perfect,” Genie said dreamily. She yawned, stretched out her arms above her head, and fell backward, sinking into the downy softness of her bed. The Prescotts had just finished receiving their afternoon callers and the two girls had retired to Genie’s room to converse in private. Genie would have liked nothing better than to take a nap, but this was the first opportunity she’d had to talk privately with Lizzie since returning from her momentous fishing escapade this morning.

In fact, this was the first opportunity Genie had to consider what had happened this morning at all. She and Hastings had declared—and then made—love. It seemed impossible that Miss Eugenia Prescott, the proper parson’s daughter, could have done such a scandalous thing. How had it happened? Even now, she couldn’t explain it other than to say that at the precise moment of truth, she wanted to please him. The battle between her conscience versus love and passion had never really been a contest.

The sheer magnitude of her physical response to him had been completely unexpected. Never could she have imagined the passion lying dormant inside her, awaiting only his touch to erupt. She’d never felt like that before, like she’d been swept up in the current of a powerful river of sensation, unable to break free. She’d
needed
his touch,
needed
the closeness of his body on hers.

It had been amazing.

But most of all, she’d loved watching the ecstasy transform his face as they made love. She, Genie Prescott, had made him lose control. For the first time, Genie knew the exquisite power of her womanhood.

Nonetheless, she realized that it could not happen again until they were married. It was far too dangerous. If anyone should discover…

The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She’d be shunned by polite society, shaming herself and her family in the process. She’d be ruined.

Genie didn’t want to feel as though she’d made a mistake succumbing to temptation, but there was a tenacious, sensible voice in the back of her head that would not quiet. Hastings was young and inclined to lightheartedness. His joie de vivre was one of the things she loved about him, but it did not inspire constancy. Genie trusted him to do the right thing. A man of his rank and position, a true gentleman, would do so. And he had made his intentions known.

She had to share her exciting news with her sister. But Lizzie, who had still not responded, was looking at her strangely.

Sitting at the foot of the bed, Lizzie gave Genie a soul-searching stare; an unreadable expression on her face. Now that Genie thought about it, Lizzie had been acting odd since their return from the river this morning. Could she have guessed? Genie had been unable to prevent the blush when Lizzie asked her why she walked with such a strange gait on the way home.

“No one is perfect, Genie. Not even the handsome son of a duke,” Lizzie said uneasily.

Lizzie’s sudden reticence shocked her. Was this the same person who eagerly plotted their secret meetings with the adroitness of a born conspirator? It felt like the sisters had switched roles. Lizzie, the voice of caution and Genie the one running headstrong into… disaster? She chilled. Whatever made her think that, she wondered, burying the unwelcome premonition.

Genie had heard the underlying concern in her sister’s voice. “I know that, dearest. I meant that he is perfect for me. Truly, he is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Aren’t you happy for me?”

“Of course, I am,” Lizzie assured her. She paused, obviously searching for the right words. “I just don’t want you to be too disappointed if—”

Genie cut her off. “I won’t be disappointed.”

“How can you be sure?”

Why had Lizzie’s excitement about Hastings suddenly soured? Had Lizzie seen them on the riverbank? The thought was too mortifying to contemplate. What would Lizzie think of her? She had to explain. Genie lowered her voice and checked the doorway. “You must not say anything yet, but Hastings intends to ask for me.”

Lizzie appeared visibly relieved. “He told you as much?”

Genie thought about it for a moment. He hadn’t actually said those precise words, but he’d inferred by his actions and words that he intended to… hadn’t he? She pushed aside the traitorous uncertainty. Genie trusted him. “He made his intentions known this very morning,” she said confidently.

“Then that explains…” Lizzie’s voice drifted off and she stopped whatever she’d been about to say. But Genie was now certain that Lizzie suspected that something had happened between Genie and Hastings on the riverbank.

Smiling, Lizzie threw her arms around Genie and hugged her enthusiastically. “I’m so happy for you.”

Lizzie’s heartfelt embrace covered Genie’s temporary embarrassment and unleashed all the emotions bubbling so close to the surface since Genie and Hastings had unexpectedly made love this afternoon. Genie clasped Lizzie’s hands, happiness bringing tears to her eyes. “I love him desperately and the more amazing thing is that he loves me. I think I’m the happiest, most fortunate girl in all of England.”

Lizzie peppered her with excited questions: How did it happen? Why hadn’t they said anything earlier (after all she and Fanny had done for them!)? When would he send the formal letter to father requesting a betrothal? Would they marry in the spring or the summer? Where would they live?

Genie answered the best that she could, given that she did not have the answers for most. Noticing the returning wariness on her sister’s face, Genie explained, “I’m sure we shall discuss all the details after I am properly introduced to the duke and duchess tomorrow evening. Hastings must secure their approval first before approaching father.”

Now Lizzie looked very worried. “Then the duke and duchess are not yet aware of his intentions toward you?”

“No, not as yet. But there is no reason to suppose that they will object—”

“Genie,” Lizzie interrupted vehemently. “You said yourself before that a duke’s son does not marry the daughter of a rector. It just isn’t done.”

“Hastings is not the heir, only the second son,” Genie reminded her.

“But he will still be expected to make a good match,” Lizzie said doggedly.

“I don’t understand, Lizzie. Where is this coming from? I thought you wanted me to marry Hastings.” Genie felt the happiness seep out of her. She needed Lizzie’s support.

Lizzie chewed on her lip. She seemed reluctant to explain, but Genie knew there was a reason for Lizzie’s sudden reticence, beyond what had occurred today. “What is it Lizzie?” she prodded. “If you know something, you must tell me.”

“It’s just something the viscount said to me yesterday, that’s all.” Lizzie tried to sound dismissive, but Genie experienced a growing sense of alarm.

“What did Loudoun say?” Genie asked cautiously, dreading the answer. Hastings’s brother had made no secret of his disapproval.

Lizzie shrugged. “Just that although Hastings might choose to ignore his obligation, the duchess was counting on Hastings to make a good match.”

Lizzie fidgeted with the laces on her boots. She was holding something back.

“What else, Lizzie?”

“That Hastings might seem carefree and irresponsible, but in the end he would do his duty.”

“This is different.”

“Why?”

Genie couldn’t tell her what they’d done. “It just is—that’s why.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “We love each other.” And now he had a duty to her.

Lizzie grabbed her hands, holding her gaze. Genie wanted to look away, she didn’t want to hear what Lizzie had to say, didn’t want to acknowledge her own fears. Acknowledging her uncertainty made her somehow feel disloyal. But what if Lizzie was right? What if the duke and duchess did not approve of a match between them?

“Genie, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Of course I will, goose,” Genie assured her. But, of course she hadn’t been careful at all. Indeed, the painful raw throbbing between her legs was a constant reminder of her lack of care.

Suddenly angry at herself, Genie vowed to halt the flow of distrustful thoughts. She was wrong to doubt Hastings, to allow Lizzie’s fears to betray their love. They were bound together now; Hastings would do what was necessary to ensure that they would be together “forever” as he had promised.

Genie would find her happily ever after. Hastings would take care of his parents’ objections and if necessary, defy his family. He’d taken her virginity. A mere social impediment would not stand in the way of a match between them now.

But Lizzie was at least partially correct: Genie had to be careful.

Such folly would not, could not, happen again.

Nothing had happened the way Genie thought it would. How she, the daughter of a rector, came to be in this predicament, she could not explain any better today than she could two months ago. The twinge of trepidation that she’d experienced that afternoon with Lizzie was nothing compared to the horror that she felt today.

It had started out innocent enough, as all great falls from grace do, with one mistake. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Along the bank of the Severn, in the secluded greenhouse of Thornbury Castle, anywhere they could find. Her grand intention to not repeat her folly was all but forgotten with the silver of his tongue and the haunting tenderness of his embrace.

It was a vicious circle from which she could not wrench free. The further she fell from respectability, the more her body craved his touch. She no longer had the pain of the first time to viscerally remind her that she sinned. And after the second time, when she’d shattered in his arms and touched a sliver of heaven, she’d found the temptation of making love all but impossible to resist. As he’d promised, it had only gotten better. Now her body craved him as deeply as her soul. He’d awakened her passion, and it would not graciously retreat.

In truth, she didn’t know that she would wish it away even if she could. The intimacy, the closeness, they shared was incredible. If she thought she knew him before, it was nothing compared to now. Genie didn’t just know that he liked roasted potatoes but not roasted carrots, she knew the way his jaw clenched when he drove deep inside her, and the way he liked to look deep into her eyes as he exploded in release. Her heart squeezed just thinking about it.

She couldn’t get enough of him even as she realized what they were doing was wrong.

Genie swore each time that it would be the last, but when he kissed her—touched her—the wicked cravings of her body took over, and she lost all manner of decorum and rationality.

Yet each time he took her in sin, she hated herself—and him—a little more.

Shame had tainted their love. Since that fateful sun-drenched September morning, Genie had learned a painful truth about the inherent fragility of virtue. Virtue, once taken, could not be restored. It was a lesson that had been instilled in her since birth, but which she had so easily forsaken for the gratification of a moment. Without virtue, Genie was ruined. No one else would marry her now. The fate of a woman without fortune was inextricably tied to marriage. Unmarried, she would become dependent on the charity of her father and later, of her brothers.

She’d been such a fool. Seduced by the oldest lure of all… love.

And may God forgive her, she still loved him—but with increasing desperation. He had to marry her, not only to restore her lost virtue, but because she couldn’t imagine life without him. In a little over three months, he’d wormed his way around her heart. The immediate connection between them had blossomed into a true friendship. Hastings made her pulse race, her smile bright, and made her more comfortable than she’d ever imagined with a man.

But the moment she left him all comfort fled. She wanted to feel secure again, and that would only come with a formal proposal.

He’d dragged his feet for months. She’d hinted and danced around the topic of their understanding since it had become apparent that his parents would not happily welcome her into the family. The much-anticipated soirée at Thornbury Park had been a miserable affair. The duke and duchess had not cut her directly, but the cold manner of their greeting left no doubt as to their wishes on the matter.

Two months after they’d first made love, two months after that disastrous first meeting with his parents, and Hastings still had not offered for her. Indeed, he steadfastly avoided the topic of engagement at all, so much so that Genie had begun to wonder whether Lizzie had been correct. Had he ever intended it at all? But what else could “make you mine forever” mean? His vow of love was often repeated, but usually in the hazy, dreamy moments after they made love.

It was time to stop hinting. She’d learned over the past two months that Hastings did not like confrontation, but she had to do something. What they had was worth fighting for, he must realize that.