Читать книгу The Complete Regency Season Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 35

Chapter Thirteen

‘I do believe you are alarming our poor hostess with the darkness of your scowls, Zachary,’ an amused voice drawled beside him as Zachary stood near one of the windows in Lady Colchester’s music room during a break in the entertainments.

His eyes widened as he turned to look at Wolfingham. ‘Should you be out and about when you are still recovering from a bullet wound to your shoulder?’

‘It would look decidedly odd if I were absent from society for any length of time. Besides which, needs must, I am afraid.’ Wolfingham gave a grimace.

‘Oh?’

His friend nodded abruptly. ‘I do not suppose you have seen anything of my little brother this evening?’

Zachary’s brows rose. ‘Should I have done?’ As far as he was aware, young Lord Anthony Hunter had been fortunate enough not to have put in even a nominal appearance at Lady Colchester’s musical soirée. Not unless he had arrived and left before Zachary and his party arrived.

‘Obviously not,’ Wolfingham uttered disgustedly.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘If there is, then it is for me to deal with,’ his friend dismissed briskly. ‘What were you scowling at so intently just now?’ Wolfingham glanced across the room in the direction Zachary had been scowling earlier. ‘Who is the honeypot attracting all the bees?’

Zachary did not at all appreciate hearing Georgianna described as a honeypot. Even if that was exactly what she had been from the moment they arrived at Lady Colchester’s home several hours ago.

Georgianna was resplendent in a gown of purple silk, a strip of lace styled discreetly across the tops of her breasts, and so concealing that damning scar, with a matching purple feather adorning the darkness of her curls.

They had barely had time to greet their hostess before the first of the handsome young bucks began to flock about them. Most of them acquaintances of her brother, Jeffrey, eager to be re-introduced to his beautiful sister. But there had been some older gentlemen, too. Single gentlemen, of Zachary’s own age and older, attracted no doubt by the air of untouchable remoteness with which Georgianna appeared to have steeled herself in order to endure appearing at this evening’s entertainment.

A remoteness, which had thawed throughout the evening until, as now, she appeared to be enjoying the attentions of so many handsome gentlemen. The wariness had slowly faded from her gaze, a becoming blush now adorning her cheeks, and those two familiar dimples having appeared in those same cheeks when she smiled, at what were no doubt flattering and flirtatious comments being made to and about her.

And for the whole of this time Zachary had wished for nothing more than to dismiss the attentions of every single one of those handsome and fawning gentlemen, before whisking Georgianna away somewhere they could be private together.

So, yes, Wolfingham’s description of his having been scowling minutes ago—enough so as to have warned off the approach of all and any who were not closely acquainted with him, who were very few—was no doubt an accurate one.

‘My ward, Lady Georgianna Lancaster,’ he now supplied.

Wolfingham continued to look at Georgianna consideringly. ‘This is the same young woman to whom you were so briefly betrothed last year?’

‘Yes.’

The other man’s brows rose. ‘She appears to be much changed from a year ago.’

Zachary’s mouth tightened at the reasons for those changes, in both Georgianna’s appearance and demeanour. ‘She is, yes.’

Wolfingham turned to look at him through narrowed lids. ‘I was not just referring to the more obvious changes in her appearance.’

A nerve pulsed in Zachary’s jaw, knowing that his friend was able to detect the air of remoteness, and the sophistication, which had been so lacking in Georgianna just a year ago. ‘No.’

‘Zachary.’

‘I would prefer not to discuss my ward any further,’ he warned harshly. ‘Even with you.’

Wolfingham continued to study him for several long seconds before nodding slowly. ‘If you will just answer one more question?’

Zachary scowled his irritation. ‘Which is?’

‘Does she know that Rousseau is dead?’

‘Yes, she knows.’ Zachary did not attempt to pretend to misunderstand Wolfingham, knew that his friend had guessed, correctly, that Georgianna Lancaster was the woman whom Rousseau had treated so despicably. The reason the other man had to die.

‘You like her?’ Wolfingham guessed astutely.

Zachary’s jaw clenched at the understatement. ‘I do.’

‘Enough to consider renewing your betrothal?’

His jaw clenched. ‘There is absolutely no chance of that ever happening.’

‘None?’

The nerve in his jaw pulsed even more rapidly. ‘None whatsoever.’

‘Time is passing, Zachary, and the condition in your father’s will that states you must marry and produce an heir before your thirty-fifth birthday remains just as pressing,’ Wolfingham reminded softly.

‘And Georgianna is the last woman who would ever accept a—another—marriage proposal from me.’ Zachary grimaced. ‘Indeed, I believe Georgianna despises me more now than she did a year ago.’

Wolfingham sighed heavily. ‘Life can be complicated at times, can it not?’

‘Very,’ Zachary grated.

His friend nodded. ‘If you will excuse me, I believe I must continue to search for my own complication.’

Zachary frowned. ‘Is Anthony in trouble?’

‘Only with me,’ Wolfingham assured darkly.

‘If you should need any assistance in the matter...’

Wolfingham nodded distractedly. ‘For the moment just be grateful you do not have a sibling for whom you are guardian.’

Zachary had very much regretted not having siblings when he was very young, but since meeting his four close friends at school he had not felt that same need, those four gentlemen more than filling that gap in his life. As they had all been there for him when he’d lost his parents when he was a child.

As they all remained there for each other as adults. ‘Anthony is not in any danger?’ He studied Wolfingham closely.

His friend’s mouth thinned. ‘Again, only from me. No doubt you have a similar headache, since becoming guardian to the two Lancaster siblings?’

Zachary glanced across at Georgianna once again, eyes glittering as he saw her batting her fan playfully in order to ward off the attentions of one of her more ardent suitors. ‘If you will excuse me.’ He didn’t wait for his friend to reply before marching purposefully across the length of Lady Colchester’s music room.

‘I believe you are crowding the lady, Adams!’ He glared down the length of his nose at the younger man.

Georgianna raised her open fan to hide her surprise as Hawksmere took up a protective stance at her side, his expression grimly forbidding as he glared at the gentlemen surrounding her.

Not that she did not appreciate Zachary having joined her; the gentlemen were becoming more and more persistent in their attentions, several of them currently vying for the honour of dancing the first set with her at the Countess of Evesham’s ball tomorrow evening. A ball Georgianna was not sure she wished to attend any more than she had wished to attend this soirée.

This evening had been every bit the ordeal Georgianna had thought it might be.

Being with Hawksmere again had proved to be every bit of the ordeal she had imagined it might be!

It seemed incredible to her that she and Hawksmere had allowed themselves more than once to become embroiled in a situation of deep intimacy. An intensity of intimacy that made her blush with embarrassment every time she so much as thought about it.

And, to her shame, she had been unable to stop herself from thinking about it ever since she and Hawksmere had parted earlier today. Of how he had felt beneath the touch of her hands and lips. How he had tasted.

It had not helped that Zachary had looked, and continued to look, every inch the arrogantly handsome Duke of Hawksmere when he arrived at Malvern House earlier this evening. His muscled physique was shown to advantage in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen, the darkness of his hair arranged in tousled disarray as it curled over his ears and nape and about the sculptured perfection of his face.

Georgianna’s heart had skipped several beats when she’d first gazed at him earlier this evening, a reaction she’d been quick to hide as she’d turned to thank her brother as he held out his arm to her in readiness for their departure.

She had deliberately seated herself beside Jeffrey in Hawksmere’s carriage, very aware of, and avoiding meeting, the steadiness of Hawksmere’s gaze as he sat directly across from her. She had kept her face averted as she looked out the window beside her, pretending an interest in the busy London evening streets.

Only to then find herself accompanied protectively by Jeffrey on one side and Hawksmere on the other, as they had entered Lady Colchester’s London home together.

A closeness that had allowed her to feel the warmth emanating from Hawksmere’s body through the silk of her gown, to smell his familiar smell of sandalwood and citrus, along with expensive cigars and just a hint of brandy upon his breath.

The latter in evidence, perhaps, that Hawksmere had felt in need of some restorative himself, in order to be able to get through the evening ahead?

Somehow Georgianna doubted that Hawksmere had ever needed a restorative, of any kind, to get through anything.

Nevertheless, Georgianna had felt grateful that the interest and conversation of Jeffrey’s friends had separated her from Hawksmere, both before and during this break in the entertainments. His close proximity as they had sat together listening to several of the young ladies perform on their various musical instruments, had disturbed Georgianna on a level she had found distinctly uncomfortable. She still had no idea how she felt about Hawksmere’s involvement with André’s premature death.

That she no longer had anything to fear, in regard to André ever finding her again, was a relief beyond measure. Nor, having had time to adjust to André’s demise, did she find she felt the least regret. How could she regret it, when she had lived in fear of discovery by him these past months? No, it was Hawksmere’s involvement in the other man’s death which still unsettled her.

Frightened her?

No, she was not frightened by the thought of such violence. She was sure that most men, and women, were capable of committing murder if pushed to the extreme. That she had been more than capable, given the weapon to do so, of killing André herself that night in the woods outside Paris, when he had tried to end her life.

But if she had succeeded in killing André, then it would have been an act of desperation on her part, of self-survival, rather than the cold-blooded murder she suspected his death to have been.

‘If you gentlemen will excuse us?’ Zachary’s narrowed gaze precluded there being any objections to his announcement as he took a firm hold of Georgianna’s arm to walk purposefully across to the other side of the room, well out of earshot of Lady Colchester’s other guests. A frown darkened his brow as he now looked down at Georgianna through narrowed lids.

‘You are hurting my arm, Hawksmere.’ She gazed up at him steadily, pointedly, while all the time keeping a smile of politeness upon her lips for the benefit of their audience. The curious glances in their direction by the ladies present were surreptitious, but there nonetheless. No doubt due to the fact that the two of them had once been betrothed to be married. To each other.

Zachary lessened his grip, but refused to release her completely, at the same time as his own expression remained one of bland politeness. No doubt also for the benefit of their audience. ‘I realise I am not your favourite person, Georgianna, but I do not think that ignoring me is in any way going to help quell the gossip, as this evening was predisposed to do, regarding our past broken betrothal,’ he muttered impatiently.

Zachary believed he was not her favourite person?

Georgianna’s feelings in regard to Hawksmere were now in such confusion that she no longer had any idea what she felt towards him. Despite the fact that he only had to touch her, it seemed, for her to melt into his arms.

Surely her reaction could be termed as being merely a physical response to a handsome and desirable gentleman?

Merely?

Her responses to Zachary were above and beyond anything Georgianna had ever experienced in her life before him. Not even that imagined love for André had filled her with such longings, such desires, as she felt when Zachary took her in his arms and kissed and caressed her.

Longings, and a desire, she had no right to feel for a man who would never be—could never be anything more to her than her reluctant guardian. And even that tenuous connection would very soon cease to exist.

Her chin rose defensively now. ‘Is it not enough that I am here, as you instructed me to be? I do not recall your having said I had to enjoy or like it?’ she added pointedly.

Zachary drew in an impatient breath. ‘You appeared to be enjoying the attentions of those other gentlemen just a few minutes ago.’

Georgianna arched a brow. ‘Was that not what I was supposed to do?’

As far as Zachary was concerned? No, it was not. In fact, he found he did not enjoy having any other gentleman within ten feet of Georgianna.

His jaw tightened. ‘I do not think it a particularly good idea for you to encourage a repeat of society’s past belief in your reputation as being something of a flirt.’

Her eyes widened with indignation. ‘You— I— You are insulting, sir!’

Deliberately so, Zachary acknowledged heavily. And knowing he was not endearing himself to Georgianna in the slightest by acting the part of the jealous lover.

Even if he knew that’s exactly how he felt.

He had hated every moment of watching Georgianna being flattered and admired by those other gentlemen this evening. Had wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and carry her off to a place no other man could look at her, let alone flatter and charm her into possibly falling in love with him.

Quite what Zachary was going to do about the heat of his own emotions in regard to Georgianna he had no idea, when she now gave every impression of disliking him intensely.

Was he, as her guardian, to be forced to stand silently by whilst some other man charmed and flattered her into falling in love with him?

Would he then have to welcome that suitor into his own home, when that gentleman came to ask his permission for seeking Georgianna’s hand in marriage?

Impossible.

Just the thought of it was enough to cause Zachary’s hand to clench into a fist at his side. He would not, could not, allow it. ‘Are you ready to leave this insipid entertainment?’ he prompted harshly.

Violet-coloured eyes widened in the pallor of Georgianna’s face. ‘If you have somewhere else you wish to go, then I am sure Jeffrey is more than capable of acting as my chaperon for the rest of the evening.’

‘The only somewhere else I wish us both to go is far away from here!’ Zachary bit out harshly, only to draw in a long and calming breath as Georgianna’s face became even paler at his vehemence. ‘I believe we need to talk further, Georgianna,’ he added softly.

Her brows rose. ‘About what, exactly?’

‘In private.’ A nerve pulse in his tightly clenched jaw. If he did not find himself alone with Georgianna in the next few minutes then he was afraid he was going to do something that would cause them both embarrassment. Not that he cared on his own behalf, but Georgianna was likely to be less forgiving if he caused a scene on her very first evening back into society.

And a Georgianna who felt angry and resentful towards him was not what he wished for at all.

Georgianna eyed Zachary warily, not sure that she wished to be anywhere private with him, when he was in his current mood of unpredictability. Not that he had ever been in the least predictable to her, but there was such an air of tension about him this evening she felt even more wary of him than she had in the past.

‘To what purpose?’ she persisted guardedly.

A nerve pulsed in his throat. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes, of course it matters,’ Georgianna answered irritably. ‘As you have already pointed out, this is my first venture back into society, and my leaving with you now, halfway through the entertainments, would seem... It would look improper,’ she concluded lamely.

It was possible to hear Hawksmere’s teeth grinding together. ‘Then let it.’

Georgianna’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘Can it be that you are foxed, Hawksmere? I seem to recall I thought I could smell brandy upon your breath when you arrived at Malvern House earlier this evening.’

‘I am most assuredly not foxed, nor do I have any intentions of being so,’ he bit out harshly. ‘I am merely expressing a wish for the two of us to leave this hellish torture and go somewhere where we might talk privately together.’

Her brows rose. ‘I do not recall your having been so eager, or particularly interested, in anything I had to say to you in the past.’ She felt no qualms in reminding him that he had not so much as had a conversation with her before offering her marriage mere months ago. Or of his distrust of her, and of the information she’d wished to impart to him, when she’d first returned to England just weeks ago.

Was it really only three weeks since she had secretly returned to England? So much had happened in that time it seemed so much longer.

Zachary knew that he well deserved Georgianna’s criticism. But he wished to remedy those wrongs now. He wanted to make amends for his past arrogance and thoughtlessness. If Georgianna would only allow it.

‘I freely acknowledge that I have behaved appallingly towards you in the past, Georgianna.’

‘How gracious of you to admit it!’

Zachary closed his eyes briefly as he heard the sarcasm underlying Georgianna’s tone. As he inwardly fought to hold on to what little temper he had left. ‘I am asking, politely, that you now leave this place with me, Georgianna, in order that we might talk together in calmness and—’

‘This hellish place?’ she interrupted tauntingly.

It had been hellish for him to have to sit at Georgianna’s side and listen to the often painful musical efforts of half a dozen twittering young women, all of them hoping to impress the gentlemen present with their questionable talents. A so-called entertainment which Zachary would never have bothered himself to suffer through in the past and had only done so this evening as an open support of Georgianna’s return to society.

But enough was enough, as far as Zachary was concerned; he simply could not sit through another minute of either of those painful entertainments, or Georgianna’s coolly distant presence, as she sat silent and unmoving beside him. Nor could he witness further demonstration of the attentions of other men.

‘Do not pretend you have the least interest in listening to any more of this unholy caterwauling,’ he muttered disgustedly.

Georgianna quickly caught her top lip between her teeth in an effort to hold back her humour at Hawksmere’s characteristic, and totally familiar, rudeness. A rudeness she far more readily understood than the intensity of emotions which seemed to be bubbling beneath the surface of Hawksmere’s present mood of restless impatience.

‘That is very ungentlemanly of you, Hawksmere,’ she murmured reprovingly.

‘The truth often is,’ he came back unrepentantly.

The truth.

What was the truth of her feelings for Hawksmere? Did she loathe him or love him? She had once loathed him with a passion, enough so as to have eloped with another man, rather than become his wife. Her responses to Zachary since her return to England, the way she trembled even now just at his close proximity, said she no longer felt the least loathing for him, that her emotions now moved in another direction entirely.

Towards love?

For Hawksmere?

If that was truly what she felt for him then she must still be as stupidly naïve as she had been in the past. Certainly more so even than she had been eleven months ago, when she had believed herself to be in love with and loved by André!

Until now she had believed that to have been her defining moment of naïveté, but it was as nothing compared to the self-inflicted torture if she had indeed allowed herself to fall in love with Zachary Black. There could be nothing but pain and disillusionment from loving a man such as he. A man so cynical, so indifferent to the emotion of love, he had thought nothing of tying himself for life to, of marrying, a young woman he had not so much as had an interest in speaking privately to or with before offering for her.

And yet he was expressing a wish to talk privately with that same young woman now.

Perhaps so, but it was no doubt only because she had brought an abrupt end to their conversation earlier regarding André’s death. A subject about which Georgianna had no desire to hear, or learn, any more than she already did. André was dead, by whatever means, and she did not need to know, could not bear to know, any more on the subject.

She straightened her spine determinedly. ‘I am afraid it is not possible for me to leave just yet, your Grace.’ She ignored the way Hawksmere’s mouth tightened at her deliberate formality. ‘My friend Charlotte Reynolds is about to play the pianoforte in the second half of the entertainments and I have already promised her I will stay long enough to listen.’

Zachary snorted his frustration with this development. ‘And our own conversation?’

She shrugged uninterestedly. ‘Will just have to wait.’

Zachary did not want to wait. Did not want to share Georgianna for another minute longer. With her friends. Her brother. Or the dozen or so eager young bucks watching them so curiously from across the room. No doubt all waiting for the moment they could pounce upon Georgianna again. If there was any pouncing to be done, then Zachary wished it to be only by him!

What he really wanted to do was to once again make Georgianna a prisoner in his bedchamber. To keep her there, making love to and with her, until she did not have the strength to even think of leaving him again.

It was a side of himself Zachary did not recognise. A side of himself which he was uncertain he wished to recognise.

His mouth thinned. ‘You are refusing to leave with me?’

‘I believe I must, yes.’ Georgianna gave him an impatient glance as his scowl of displeasure deepened. ‘You are acting very strangely this evening, Hawksmere.’

No doubt. He felt very strange, too. Felt most uncomfortable with the uncharacteristic emotions churning inside him. There was most certainly impatience at their surroundings. That restlessness to be alone with Georgianna. The desire to make love to her again. And that interminable, unacceptable jealousy of the other men, just waiting for the opportunity to fawn over and flatter her.

What did it all mean? This turmoil of emotions, this possessiveness he now felt towards Georgianna?

Until he knew the answer to those questions, perhaps he should not talk privately with Georgianna, after all, but instead go to his club? Perhaps with the intention of imbibing too much brandy? If only as a means of dulling this turmoil of unfathomable emotions that held him so tightly in its grip.

He removed his hand from the top of Georgianna’s arm as he stepped back to bow formally. ‘I will wish you a goodnight, then, Georgianna.’

Georgianna blinked her surprise at the abruptness of Zachary’s sudden capitulation to her refusal to leave with him, when just seconds ago he had seemed equally as determined that she would do so.

Would she ever understand this man?

Probably not, she conceded wearily. ‘Goodnight, your Grace.’

She bowed her head as she curtsied just as formally.

‘Georgianna.’

She glanced up at Hawksmere from beneath lowered lashes as she slowly straightened. ‘Yes?’

A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw, his face pale, a fevered glitter in the paleness of his silver eyes as the words seems forced out of him rather than given willingly. ‘Never mind,’ he muttered, his gaze no longer meeting hers. ‘I wish you joy for the rest of your evening.’ He gave another curt bow. ‘If you will excuse me? I will inform Jeffrey of my early departure.’

She nodded. ‘Your Grace.’

Zachary had never felt such heaviness in his chest before as he now felt walking away from Georgianna in search of Jeffrey Lancaster. He felt strangely as if he were leaving a part of himself behind. A very vital part. Almost as if he might never see Georgianna again after this evening. Which was ridiculous, when he was to be her guardian for another three months at least.

‘I believe you and I need to talk privately, Hawksmere.’

Zachary turned at the harsh sound of his younger ward’s voice, eyes narrowing as he took in the angry expression on Jeffrey Lancaster’s youthfully handsome face.

‘Is there a problem, Jeffrey?’ he prompted warily, wondering if Jeffrey had witnessed the tension just now between his sister and Zachary.

The younger man’s face flushed with displeasure. ‘I did not mean— It was not done intentionally— I had thought to join you and Wolfingham earlier and...I inadvertently overheard part of your conversation,’ he bit out accusingly.

And, as Zachary so clearly recalled, any part of his private conversation with Wolfingham would be considered damning to a third party. Most particularly Wolfingham having spoken of the conditions of Zachary’s father’s will, as being the reason for his betrothal and intended marriage to Jeffrey’s sister eleven months ago.