“To stop you from marrying the wrong man, I would. I’ve made some inquiries about your late husband.”
Genie felt panic claw her chest. He knew. He knew she’d lied about being married.
“Strange, but there does not seem to be a record of him?” The knowing look on his face belied the feigned surprise in his tone. “When I make our previous acquaintance in Thornbury known, it won’t take long for people to remember the mysterious disappearance of the county’s reigning beauty. I’m afraid my ongoing attempts to find you are rather well-known. It won’t take long for someone to figure it out.” He lifted a brow. “If I’m not mistaken, Lady Hawkesbury has already done so.”
He was right. But she was not ready to admit defeat. “Edmund would still marry me.”
He smiled and shook his head, a patronizing movement that further bruised her damaged pride. “But would you marry him, knowing what it would cost him?” He gave her a long, hard look. “You have changed Genie, but not that much. Would you have Hawk shunned by polite society?”
Would she? Had she become that mercenary?
The iron resolve forged by disappointment and tragedy faltered. The realization that Huntingdon might know her better than she knew herself chafed. He’d played her well. She’d changed, but not as much as she wanted to.
She would not intentionally harm Edmund. Not after all he’d done for her.
Scandal had to be averted. “It won’t come to that.”
“Do you doubt me?” He smiled, but his voice turned hard. “Don’t.”
He would do it. He wanted her and he wasn’t going to back down unless she did something. She felt the walls closing in on her. Her mouth went dry and her voice, when it came, broke pitifully. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I feel responsible for what happened to you. I want to do right by you. To do what I should have done all those years ago.”
“So you seek to erase your shame, and you think forcing me to marry you will make it right?” She couldn’t believe the insanity of his reasoning. “Did you learn such gentle persuasion at your mother’s knee?”
He flinched, but did not back down. “Would you agree otherwise?”
She ignored his question. She had not agreed. “Why now? Surely, you can’t claim to love me?” she asked incredulously.
His face shuttered. A wry smile curved his lips. “No. I want you. Let’s leave it at that.”
The truth stung. Even though she’d known his answer, the disavowal still managed to find a tender spot in her hardened heart.
“You want a possession,” she challenged. “You only want me now because you can’t have me. This is about lust.”
He glanced meaningfully down at his breeches. The evidence of his arousal obvious in the tight, form-fitting clothing. “I can hardly deny that’s a part of it.”
“Passion eventually dies.”
Amused, he quirked a brow. “Does it?’
Perhaps not. Five years hadn’t dampened his any. Flustered, she tried a different tact.
“Why?” she asked hollowly. “Why do you want to ruin my life again?” The conflicting emotions of what had nearly happened between them and his cruel threat had shaken her defenses. “Wasn’t once enough for you?”
Don’t cry. Please, don’t let him see you cry.
His tone softened. “Don’t you see? I want to make it up to you. I’ll give you everything you ever wanted. Name it and you shall have it. If I thought you truly loved Hawk, it would be different.” He grasped her shoulders and stared deep into her eyes, daring her to deny his words. “I know you don’t love him. I saw the way you kissed him. It was nothing like what just happened between us.”
Her cheeks burned. He was right, but she didn’t want to concede to it. But after Huntingdon’s latest kiss, the comparison with Edmund was… well, there wasn’t any comparison.
Genie grew frantic, trying to find a way out of the noose tightened around her.
She was scared. Scared of what he made her feel. She didn’t know how long she could resist this insane pull to him—a pull that challenged her resolve whenever she was around him.
Genie realized that she’d been wrong. It wasn’t the past she needed to worry about, it was the present. The man he’d become was infinitely more dangerous than the man he used to be. He no longer relied on charm. The charisma of power and confidence was infinitely more appealing. Ironically, Huntingdon had become the sort of man who inspired trust. She couldn’t believe she was even thinking about trust and Huntingdon together. How long could she resist him? And resist him she must; his betrayal had run too deep.
She’d survived once, but she couldn’t do it again.
The urgency of the situation made her contemplate something that she would never have thought possible: confiding a bit of the truth. The truth would put an end to his threat, but could she stand his censure? Could she stomach witnessing the disgust that he would try to hide when he looked at her? She would have to.
“You don’t understand. You can’t marry me. There are things about my past…” She sighed, calming the nervousness in her voice. “Things that could make your political ambitions impossible.”
He spoke without hesitation. “I don’t care.”
But he would. Any man would. Even though she was innocent of wrongdoing, it would not matter.
“But a cabinet post is important to you?”
“Extremely.”
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bear to see his disgust or, even worse, his pity. But he’d left her with no choice. She turned away. There was no other way, she could not destroy Edmund, and marriage to Huntingdon was unthinkable.
She hated him anew for forcing her to this.
“Ask Edmund where we met,” she said dully.
“Why?” he asked, puzzled. “It won’t change my mind.”
But it would, she thought sadly. But said, “Just ask him.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his brow wrinkle. He turned pensive, searching for a clue in her expressionless face. “Very well, but you’ll do something for me.”
She eyed him warily, justly cautious of his ultimatums.
“You will call off the announcement of your engagement to Hawk tonight.”
She started to protest, “But Lady Hawkesbury is expecting—”
“Lady Hawkesbury will understand.” Noticing Genie’s guilty blush, he smiled. “In fact, unless I am mistaken, I think Lady Hawkesbury will not be surprised.”
No, she wouldn’t. “Fine,” Genie managed. “But it will be only temporary.”
Huntingdon’s hand reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart leapt to her throat. The hard, callused fingers singed a fiery path along the soft curves of her face. He gazed at her in a way that could only be described as loving. Her foolish heart actually had the gall to clench.
“We shall see about that,” he said softly, an arrogant smile played about his mouth. “Marry me, Genie, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. If it takes me a lifetime.”
The tenderness of his touch and the huskiness of his voice chipped away at the ruins of her defenses. She wanted him to go on looking at her like that. She wanted to trust him again. For the first time since she’d returned to England, Genie actually considered the ramifications of surrender.
With the pad of his thumb he wiped an errant tear from the corner of her eye. Their eyes met and held. She ached for something deep in her chest with an intensity that took her breath away. Something that felt horribly like fulfillment.
“Trust me,” he whispered.
The words jolted her back to reality. The familiar refrain that had haunted her darkest memories shattered the fragile moment of connection.
She laughed, a pitiful, slightly hysterical sound.
Furious with her capriciousness, Genie jerked her face from his hand and ran. Ran as if the very Devil were nipping at her heels.
And in a way, she supposed he was.
&
nbsp; Huntingdon couldn’t force her to marry him. He couldn’t.
But in her heart she knew he could.
If it came to that, even if it took her a lifetime, she would make him regret it. She would have her revenge not only for what he did five years ago, but for forcing her into an unwanted marriage. And for something even worse: making her wish it could be different.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After Genie left the greenhouse, Huntingdon made his way to the library to await the fallout. It wouldn’t take Hawk long to track him down.
Huntingdon had visited Hawkesbury House many times over the years, but it had been some time since he’d ventured into the library. A lifetime ago, more times than he’d care to remember, Huntingdon and Hawk had been marched to this room—knees shaking—to face their punishment for some boyhood infraction. This room had represented the end of the road, when the transgression was grave enough to warrant the final arbiter.
The desk still stood in the same place, dominating the center of the dimly lit room like some great mahogany fortress. Despite the distance of years, Huntingdon shivered. He could still remember the late earl looming like a giant executioner behind his behemoth desk, a black scowl indicating his displeasure at the bothersome interruption, ready to impart some horrible punishment. As was often the case with youth, the imagined punishment usually eclipsed reality.
The room hadn’t changed much in the ten years since the earl’s death. Heavy furniture, plush dark fabrics, and endless shelves of leather-bound books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. A worn rug in deep colors with eastern designs covered the wooden floor. A decanter of brandy rested on the sideboard. Taking this as an invitation, Huntingdon helped himself to a generous pour.
He pulled the chair out from behind the desk and sat down to wait.
The irony of the place he’d chosen to have this conversation did not escape him. No doubt Hawk’s anger, like Genie’s, would be formidable.
Not that he blamed them.
Huntingdon wished there was another way. He reminded himself to focus on the ends and not the means. He’d gambled and won. He had her. He’d seen her hesitation when he mentioned Hawk. Genie would agree to marry him; it was just a matter of time.
If Genie had actually called his bluff, Huntingdon didn’t know what he would have done—whether he would have actually gone through with his threat to ruin her.
But he did know that he wouldn’t lose her. Not again.
He wanted her. Wanted her in a way he never had another woman.
His body still raged from that kiss. More than a kiss really. And moments away from being much more. No doubt after this latest disappointment his bollocks had turned a permanent shade of blue. He recalled the softness of her responsive lips beneath his, the feel of her silky skin under his palms, the weight of her breast in his palms, the honey taste of her tight nipple rolling between his tongue and teeth, and the sensuous press of her hips against his swollen cock. He shook his head to clear the vivid fantasy, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. Cursing the semipermanent rise in his breeches, he adjusted himself as best he could when his body still demanded release.
For one sweet moment, he thought he’d had her. But something had made her hesitate, and it was enough to clear his mind. It was important that she realize that he’d changed. He didn’t want their joining to be like before—illicit and dishonorable. He owed her the honor of his name. He owed her the proper order of things: marriage then passion.
A short engagement would be the most that he could manage. Otherwise, he’d be forced to take matters into his own hands, so to speak. The constant state of arousal she left him in was interfering with his ability to concentrate on anything else.
He didn’t analyze his motives for marriage too deeply. It was time for him to take a wife. To have children. And he’d never wanted another woman the way that he wanted Genie. It was reason enough.
The door flew open with a crash.
Spitting the expected fire, Hawk stormed into the library, issuing an impressively creative string of colorful epithets. Huntingdon lifted his timepiece from the pocket in his waistcoat. Forty minutes. Not bad. Not even an hour had passed since he’d delivered his ultimatum to Genie.
“I should kill you.”
Huntingdon chuckled, but it was without amusement. Lazily, he held his crystal glass up to the light, slowly rotating it in his hand, observing the subtle play of candle light flickering off the amber liquid. After draining the contents in one deep gulp, he glanced back to his seething friend. “You could try.”
“I might succeed.”
Huntingdon shrugged indifferently. “You might.”
Hawk shook his head, disappointment etched across his features. “I honestly didn’t expect this of you, Fitz. She wouldn’t agree to marry you, so now you’ll force her to it? Issuing crude threats like the lowest blackguard?” Hawk banged his hands down on the desk in front of Huntingdon with enough force to make his empty glass rattle. “You don’t know what you do. You don’t know how she’ll hate you for forcing her.” Hawk stared at him intently, his expression losing some of its anger. “I beg of you, as a friend, don’t do this.”
Uncomfortable with Hawk’s earnestness where he’d expected only anger, Huntingdon ignored the sudden shiver of trepidation that shot up his spine. “It’s already done.”
“I could do the same, you know. Bring ruin down upon your heads if you go through with this.”
“But you won’t.” It was not a question. Huntingdon knew his friend too well. Hawk was noble to the bone—even if it meant he would lose something important. That was where they differed.
“No,” Hawk murmured, clearly disgusted with himself. “But it doesn’t have to be this way. It’s not too late to walk away.”
“Yes, it is.” He wouldn’t lose her again.
“Why?”
Huntingdon didn’t answer.
“Do you love her?” Hawk persisted.
“I did.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
Huntingdon stared at him mutely. Not really sure himself.
A glimpse of understanding appeared in Hawk’s eye. He laughed dryly. “You’re a fool. You’re seeking some kind of atonement, but don’t you realize if you do this you’ll never find it? You’re going to do what you should have done five years ago, and you think that magically the past will be corrected? It sounds more to me like you’re repeating your past mistakes by taking what you want, without any thought as to the consequences.”
Huntingdon had heard enough. Hawk would never understand. “I will make it up to her. You won’t change my mind; I’ve made my decision.”
“There are things you do not understand,” Hawk warned. “Things that might interfere with your plans for a cabinet post. Things that could destroy your position in society.”
Huntingdon’s expression darkened, annoyed at being kept in the dark about Genie’s mysterious past. “I’m getting tired of hearing the same refrain from you and Genie. Why don’t you tell me what it is I don’t understand? She said that I should ask you where you found her.”
Startled, Hawk stood from his bent position over the desk. “She said that?”
Huntingdon nodded. There was clearly something wrong here and a twinge of uncertainty niggled at him. Exactly what was the mystery he was seeking to unlock? He had a strong premonition that it might be something he didn’t want to know.
Hawk paced the room. Abruptly he stopped and spun around to face him. “Can’t you just leave it be?”
“No.”
“I want your word that you’ll never speak of this.”
“Don’t insult me.”
Hawk considered him for a moment, obviously debating whether to believe him or not, seemingly forgetting that they’d been friends for years.
“Very well,” Hawk agreed, albeit reluctantly. “I don’t know how to begin.” Hawk pulled a chair out and sat down. But he kept repositioning himself, un
able to get comfortable. “I searched most of Boston as you asked, with no luck. I visited many of the leading drawing rooms of Boston society, numerous employment agencies, theaters, workhouses, markets.” He paused. “Every respectable place I could think of with no sign of her. No one had ever heard of Miss Eugenia Prescott and given your description of her, I figured that she was not one easy to forget. I nearly gave up. I didn’t know where else to look.”
As he spoke, Huntingdon started to feel vaguely uneasy, until the pit of dread that had settled in his stomach snowballed. Something in Hawk’s face made him guess what was coming next. His gut twisted and the blood drained from his face. That ball of dread, so dark and twisted, rose, lodging in his throat. He could barely get the word out. “Except…?”
Hawk nodded, confirming a nightmare. “Except those places that are not so respectable.” Hawk took a deep breath and met Huntingdon’s agonized gaze with one of his own. “I scoured the waterfront and…” Hawk stopped and met his gaze squarely. “I finally found her in one of Boston’s finest brothels.”
“No!” he cried, though his voice barely broke above a whisper. Huntingdon’s mind reeled. The world shifted. Everything he knew about good and bad, right and wrong, gone in an instant.
The innocent young girl he’d once loved had sold herself like a… He couldn’t get the word out. A terrible blackness of rage, pain, and disillusionment washed over him. Stunned didn’t even begin to describe how he felt.
Hawk continued to explain, but Huntingdon put his head in his hands, not sure he wanted to hear anymore. “It was only by chance that I found her at all. I’d asked around most of the houses of ill repute, but no one had heard of anyone matching your description. Finally, at one of the last stops on my list, one of the women overheard my questions and brought me to the room of a young girl who was very ill. I swear to you at the time I didn’t know it was Genie. She was using a different name. Her appearance had changed drastically from your description. She was half-starved.” He stopped and met Huntingdon’s blank stare with true sympathy. “She’d been badly beaten.”