Dangerous Dukes 01 - Zachary Black - Duke of Debauchery

by Carole Mortimer

  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 b
eing 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 n
arrowing 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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zachary slouched down in the chair beside the fireplace at his club as he stared down morosely into the bottom of his empty glass. A glass which seemed to have been emptied of brandy far too often these past few hours.

  The club was much quieter than it had been when he arrived here after leaving Lady Colchester’s musical soirée, the group of gentlemen who had been playing cards upon his arrival, having long departed. In fact, the club seemed to have emptied almost completely now that Zachary took the trouble to take stock of his surroundings. Something he had certainly not noticed before now, lost in the darkness of his own thoughts as he had been, and still was.

  He continued to frown as he filled his glass again from the decanter on the table beside him. The alcohol dulled his senses, if it had not settled the confusion of his thoughts.

  Of one thing he was absolutely certain, however: Georgianna now hated him.

  And what reason had Zachary provided for her not to feel that way?

  He had not so much as given a thought to Georgianna’s feelings when he made his offer of marriage to her father eleven months ago. Had thought only of his own needs then and assumed that Georgianna would be flattered by the offer, and more than content just to become a duchess, as most young women of his acquaintance would have been.