Читать книгу The Complete Regency Season Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 32

Chapter Ten

‘Would you care to tell me exactly what we are still doing in Paris, Zachary, when our mission was to sound out public feeling here, in regard to Napoleon’s imminent arrival in Paris, before returning to England with our report?’

Zachary did not so much as glance at his companion as he kept his narrowed gaze levelled upon the establishment across the street from where the two of them stood, dressed as middle-class citizens of Paris.

‘Do you remember Bully Harrison from Eton?’

There was a slight pause. ‘How could I forget him, when he took such pleasure in beating the younger boys at every opportunity?’ Wolfingham confirmed impatiently, green eyes hard. ‘I also remember you taking an even greater delight in giving him a beating of your own, as a warning for him to instantly cease those unpleasant activities. Which he did. But I do not see what Harrison has to do with us being here in Paris.’

‘There is an even worse bully inside that establishment.’ Zachary nodded in the direction of the Fleur de Lis tavern across the street. ‘A monster who took delight in hurting a woman.’

‘Ah.’

‘Indeed,’ Zachary confirmed grimly.

‘A woman of your acquaintance?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she—? Did he hurt her very badly?’

Zachary’s jaw tensed. ‘He lied to her. Seduced her. For his own selfish reasons. And, when she was of no further use to him, he shot her. Twice. Once in the chest and then in the head.’

‘Assassin!’ Wolfingham hissed.

Zachary nodded. ‘Miraculously she did not die. But she now lives in daily fear of the monster discovering his failure. Of him seeking her out and completing the assassination.’

Wolfingham glanced across at the tavern. ‘And he is in there now?’

‘I saw him enter a short time ago, with half-a-dozen cohorts.’ Zachary nodded.

‘Knife or pistol?’

‘I believe I told you that he shot her.’

‘I enquired as to whether you intend to use knife or pistol?’

Zachary’s brow cleared slightly as he turned to look appreciatively at one of his closest friends. ‘I apologise for underestimating you, Wolfingham,’ he drawled ruefully. ‘And I shall use my pistol. I believe I should like him to know what it is like to stare down the barrel of a gun and know you are about to breathe your last,’ he added with grim satisfaction as he thought of how Georgianna must have suffered the night Rousseau attempted to kill her. And he wasn’t just thinking of her physical wounds, but the emotional ones he doubted would ever completely heal.

There was little enough he could do to make amends for the emotional wounds he had inflicted on her since, but dispatching Rousseau was certainly a start.

‘I should warn you, though, I have reason to believe the man may recognise me,’ Zachary warned, unconsciously touching the definitive scar upon his throat.

Wolfingham nodded. ‘What would you like me to do in order to divert his cohorts?’

Zachary gave a hard grin. ‘Succinct and to the point—I have always liked that about you.’

‘A man who would treat a woman in such a despicable way does not deserve to live.’

A sentiment exactly matched by Zachary’s feelings on the matter.

* * *

Georgianna paced restlessly up and down the yellow salon at Malvern House, totally unaware of the luxuriously appointed room she had so enjoyed choosing the décor and furnishings for just two short years ago.

Those two years might just as well have been twenty.

Because she was not that same person who had once so painstakingly pored over swatches of materials for curtains and furnishings for weeks on end, voicing a complaint when the material on one of the chairs proved to be the merest shade darker than its twin.

It all seemed so unimportant now, so petty. As had the ordering of the new gowns Jeffrey had insisted upon, in preparation for their return to society, when it was discovered that all of last year’s gowns were far too big for her now-slender figure.

A society with its rules and strictures upon behaviour and speech, which she had so long believed she wished to be part of again, but now found totally stifling.

As she did the fact that those calls and entertainments continued, as if Napoleon and his ever-increasing army were not even now marching doggedly and triumphantly towards Paris.

Indeed, the majority of the ton seemed far more interested in the fact that Lady Georgianna Lancaster was returned to town, inciting an avalanche of calls and invitations from those of the ton who had already returned in preparation for the full Season.

Polite calls and invitations, which had nevertheless possessed an underlying curiosity to know as to how she had spent the past year. Georgianna had answered all of those queries with the same reply Jeffrey had given at the time of her disappearance; she had spent her time quietly at Malvern Hall, initially following the breaking of her betrothal, and then in mourning for the death of their father.

As Hawksmere had said, some might suspect otherwise, but none dared question the word of either the Duke of Hawksmere or the new Earl of Malvern.

Hawksmere.

As might be expected, there had been neither sight nor sound of Zachary Black and Georgianna could only presume, having heard nothing to the contrary, that silence must mean he was still in France. Perhaps he was even now witnessing Napoleon’s triumphant march towards Paris.

If not, then he would no doubt have made a point of calling upon his two wards before now.

Georgianna had far from forgiven Hawksmere for that deception!

As no doubt Hawksmere, in his turn, did not believe he had any need to explain himself to anyone, least of all the two young people who were now under his guardianship.

Georgianna could only wonder what on earth had possessed her father to choose such a man as guardian to his young son and daughter, most especially when that daughter had eloped in order to escape marriage to that same gentleman.

Which was perhaps answer enough as to why Hawksmere had been chosen. As he already knew of the scandal behind the breaking of their betrothal, making him their guardian had meant there would be no need for Georgianna’s absence to be explained to a third party after her father’s death.

Which did not make the unpleasant fact of being under the guardianship of Hawksmere, of all men, for another three months, any more acceptable to Georgianna.

Something she intended informing him of at the earliest opportunity.

In the meantime, Georgianna was returned to her family, to her home. She already had a whole new wardrobe of gowns, deliberately designed to hide the unsightly scar upon her chest, in which she could receive guests, as well as drive out in the family carriage in the afternoons. She and Jeffrey had also spent some time in deciding which social invitations they could or should accept, when their year of mourning was not quite at an end.

And it all seemed so pointless to Georgianna. So uninspiring. So unexciting after her months of freedom from those strictures.

Oh, she could not deny that they had been terrifying, uncertain months, too. Days and nights when she had feared for her very life. Which was perhaps one of the reasons she was so restless and bored by the tedium of her life now?

And the other reason?

Again that was down to Hawksmere.

Angry as she was with him—furious, in fact—Georgianna could not deny that everything seemed so much duller, flatter, without Hawksmere’s arrogantly powerful presence.

Which was utterly ridiculous on her part, when she should be relishing that dullness after so many months spent in fear and torment.

A fear and torment that was not over and never could be whilst the danger of André Rousseau lurked so ominously in the shadows of her life.

‘Is it time for hot chocolate and crumpets beside the fire again?’

Georgianna turned with a smile as her brother quickly crossed the room to kiss her warmly upon the cheek.

‘What makes you say that?’

Jeffrey looked down at her quizzically. ‘You looked very forlorn and wistful when I entered the room.’

Forlorn and wistful?

Because of her thoughts of Hawksmere?

No, of course it had not been because of thoughts of Hawksmere; she had been thinking of André, not Zachary, when Jeffrey entered the salon. ‘I believe I am still adjusting to being back in England and society,’ she excused lightly.

‘But you are pleased to be, surely?’ he cajoled.

Barely a year separated them in age and Jeffrey had certainly matured exponentially during his months as the Earl of Malvern under Hawksmere’s guidance. But still Georgianna felt so much older than her brother now, in her emotions as well as her interests.

Not that she could explain to Jeffrey without fear of revealing too much of her experiences over the past year.

They had necessarily talked of her elopement, her parting from André, her months of working, though she had not revealed exactly where she had worked, only that it was in a kitchen, to earn the money for her boat passage back to England. Not once during their conversations had Georgianna told Jeffrey the complete truth about the months she had spent in France. How could she, when that truth was so horrible, so demeaning, so frightening?

It was a truth which only Hawksmere knew for certain.

Such was her brother’s obvious admiration and liking for the older man, and oblivious of their guardian’s work for the Crown, Jeffrey had so far not questioned why she had chosen to go to Hawksmere, of all people, immediately upon returning to England. Nor had Georgianna chosen to enlighten her brother as to the exact day of her return, or that she had been kept a prisoner in Hawksmere’s home for two days and nights.

She might be angry with Zachary, resentful even, but it served no purpose for her to confide in her brother, when he obviously admired Hawksmere so. The older man was to be his guardian for some time to come. Also, it could endanger the work Zachary even now carried out for the Crown.

‘Of course.’ She gave her brother a brightly reassuring smile. ‘I am merely finding it strange, after so many months away.’

‘In that case, a dinner party is exactly what is required.’ Her brother moved to the fireplace to warm his hands, the darkness of his hair appearing blue-black in the firelight.

‘A dinner party?’ Georgianna’s pulse jumped in nervousness, her heart leaping in her chest, as she joined Jeffrey beside the fire. ‘But I thought tomorrow evening at Lady Colchester’s musical soirée was to be our first appearance back into society?’ Individual calls by members of society was one thing, as was riding in her carriage in the afternoons, but Georgianna was dreading having that society staring at her en masse and wondering if any of the rumours that so abounded about her were true.

‘I should have said a dinner party en famille,’ Jeffrey corrected cheerfully. ‘Hawksmere has sent word he is returned from the country and wishes the two of us to join him at Hawksmere House for dinner this evening.’

Hawksmere?

Georgianna moved to sit down abruptly on the chair beside the fireplace, her knees feeling suddenly weak at the knowledge that Zachary was returned from France. And safely, too, if he was inviting the two of them to join him for dinner this evening.

‘You have seen him?’ she prompted huskily.

‘He sent for me this afternoon.’ Jeffrey nodded.

But not her, Georgianna realised. Because she would be his ward for only a matter of months more? Or because he had no wish to see her again? Including her in this evening’s dinner invitation was, after all, what Jeffrey would have expected of their guardian.

‘Hawksmere is hardly family, Jeffrey,’ she remonstrated stiffly.

‘As good as,’ he dismissed unconcernedly, seeming completely unaware of Georgianna’s reaction to the news of Hawksmere’s invitation.

Georgianna had not realised until that moment how worried she had been about Zachary’s safe return from France.

A concern she was starting to fear might be based on something other than the anger she bore towards him, for once again having omitted to tell her the full truth.

* * *

‘It really was not necessary for you to include me in this dinner invitation, Hawksmere!’

Zachary found himself smiling for the first time in days as Georgianna attacked him with her acerbic tongue the moment she entered the blue salon of his home on her brother’s arm, rather than offering the expected polite greeting.

‘And how gratified you must be to know that there is only the matter of three months before you will be relieved of my guardianship,’ he continued haughtily even as she sketched him a polite curtsy.

‘Georgianna?’ Jeffrey looked nonplussed by his sister’s sharpness towards their guardian.

Zachary, on the other hand, found himself highly entertained. ‘The history between your sister and me necessarily means that we are still working on acquiring an acceptable politeness between the two of us, Jeffrey,’ he excused to the younger man, even as he stepped forward to take Georgianna’s gloved hand in his, his own gaze meeting her glittering violet one as he raised that hand to his lips. ‘You are looking exceptionally lovely this evening, Georgianna,’ he drawled as he straightened before slowly relinquishing her hand.

She did indeed look very beautiful, the darkness of her hair fashionably styled so as to conceal the scar at her temple. Her fashionable gown was the same violet colour as her eyes, with a swathe of lace artfully fashioned across the top of her bosom, so concealing the scar Zachary knew she also bore there.

‘I am sure there is no need for false politeness between the two of us in the privacy of your home, Hawksmere,’ she dismissed offhandedly as she moved away, at the same time reminding Zachary, at least, that he had not felt the need for this same politeness the last time she had been in his home. ‘Jeffrey cannot help but be aware of the reason for our strained relationship.’

Zachary raised dark brows. ‘I had hoped we had come to a different understanding of each other since your return?’

Those violet coloured eyes flashed darkly. ‘Only in as much as I believe that we have come to an acceptance of our hearty dislike of each other.’

‘Georgianna!’

‘Do not be alarmed, Jeffrey.’ Once again Zachary soothed his younger ward’s shock at his sister’s rudeness. ‘Georgianna and I understand each other perfectly. Do we not, Georgianna?’ The hardness of his tone was a warning for her to temper her anger and dislike of him. Her behaviour was not only alarming her brother, but also implied that they knew each other far better than their previously known acquaintance might imply.

Which they obviously did.

Zachary had thought of Georgianna often these past two weeks, whilst he was away in France. More often than he might have wished, if truth be known, and not just because of his dealings with Rousseau.

Georgianna had only been a prisoner in his home for a matter of thirty-six hours, but they had been intensely intimate hours. Hours, when Zachary came to know Georgianna rather better than he had ever known any woman. Hours, when he had come to admire her, for her spirit and determination. Hours, when he had come to like, even appreciate, her outspokenness and the way that she refused to be cowed by anything he did or said to her. Hours, when he had come to desire her more than any woman of his acquaintance.

As he desired her still, Zachary acknowledged as he studied her through narrowed lids.

Georgianna appeared less strained than she had been two weeks ago, the lines smoothed from her forehead and beside her eyes and mouth, and there was a becoming colour in the smoothness of her cheeks and full, pouting lips. But she still looked too slender in that violet-coloured gown. Perhaps more so, her unadorned neck and throat appearing delicately vulnerable, as did the slenderness of her arms.

And Zachary’s desire to possess all that loveliness was almost painful.

Damn it, it was painful.

His body throbbed with desire for her even more after their two weeks apart.

‘Yes, Hawksmere, I believe we do indeed understand each other. Perfectly.’ She lifted her chin in challenge.

Zachary very much doubted that Georgianna’s understanding of that statement was the same as his own. Because, without the strictures Jeffrey’s presence necessarily put on his behaviour, Zachary very much doubted he would be able to control the desire he now felt to make love to Georgianna again.

And not just physically. He ached to possess all of her. Her spirit. Determination. Her outspokenness. Along with her often sarcastic sense of humour, the latter more often than not at his own expense.

Georgianna had shown him this evening, with just a few brief words, that she disliked him as much now as she ever had.

Which was no doubt a fitting punishment for his having proposed marriage to her so shabbily the previous year. And Zachary knew he had again treated her abominably when she returned from France so unexpectedly.

Was it any wonder that she now disliked him so intensely?

Or that he, having thought about her so much, remembering over and over again making love to her, touching her, kissing her, bringing her to completion, desired her more now than he had two weeks ago?

‘Are you ill, Hawksmere?’ she now taunted mockingly. ‘You have gone exceedingly quiet for someone who I believed always had an answer for everything.’

‘I say, Georgianna...’ cautioned Jeffrey.

Zachary held his hand up to prevent Jeffrey from continuing to chastise his sister on his behalf. ‘I do not believe I as yet have the answer to you, dearest Georgianna,’ he assured softly.

Georgianna felt the burn of colour in her cheeks, knowing she had brought Hawksmere’s taunt upon herself by her challenging and rude behaviour. Except she could not seem to behave in any other way when in his company, her hackles rising, defences instantly up, as she verbally attacked him. Before she was attacked herself?

Maybe so, but she certainly did not appreciate his sarcasm in addressing her as ‘dearest Georgianna’, when they both knew she was here on sufferance only. Because it would have appeared odd to Jeffrey if his sister had not been included in the dinner invitation from their guardian. A guardianship, in regard to herself, that Georgianna had no doubt Zachary found tiresome, to say the least.

‘It is a woman’s prerogative to remain something of a mystery to a gentleman, is it not?’ she dismissed airily, very aware that this man knew her far better than any other, physically as well as emotionally.

Challenging Zachary the moment the two of them met again had been Georgianna’s only way of dealing with those memories of their previous intimacy, her only defence against the rush of emotions and the memories, which had threatened to overwhelm her the moment she looked at him. Of him kissing her, caressing her, pleasuring her, with those sculptured lips and large, and wholly seductive, hands!

There was no denying that Zachary looked very handsome this evening, in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen. His hair had grown longer this past two weeks and now curled silkily about his ears and nape. He appeared slightly thinner in the face, too, no doubt from the weeks he had spent in the turmoil of France, bringing into stark relief his handsome features.

Just to look at him caused Georgianna’s heart to beat faster and the palms of her hands to dampen inside her lace gloves.

‘So it is,’ he drawled in answer to her comment as Hinds appeared discreetly in the doorway. ‘Shall we go into dinner now?’ He offered Georgianna his arm.

Georgianna hesitated at the offered intimacy, having no desire to touch Zachary, to be made so totally aware of him, and of those memories that had haunted, and so bedevilled, her these past two weeks.

Nevertheless, she forced herself to show no emotion as she placed her gloved hand upon his arm and walked beside him to the dining room.

The same intimate dining room in which she and Zachary had dined alone together two weeks ago.