Dangerous Dukes 01 - Zachary Black - Duke of Debauchery

by Carole Mortimer

  Zachary had not realised, had not known then, that Georgianna was not like other young women and had a definite mind of her own in regard to what she wanted for her future. And duke or not, a loveless marriage to Zachary Black had certainly not been what she had wanted.

  Zachary was not the man she had wanted, either.

  And he was still not the man she wanted in her life.

  To a degree that Georgianna did not just scorn him, but now heartily disliked him.

  Why that should disturb him, hurt him, quite so much as it did was still something of a mystery to him.

  Zachary had always lived his life exactly as he pleased, answerable to no one since his parents died. He did not understand why Georgianna’s good opinion should now be of more importance to him than anything or anyone else.

  He gave a shake of his head in an effort to clear his mind. But, damn it, what did it mean, when thoughts of a certain woman haunted his every waking moment? When just to look at her caused a tightness in his chest? When her unique perfume alone succeeded in arousing him?

  When wanting Georgianna, desiring her, now consumed him utterly?

  It was thoughts of their explosive and satisfying lovemaking which had made Zachary’s torment this evening all the deeper. Far better that he had never known the softness of Georgianna’s lips against his flesh, the caress of her hands upon his body. How he wished he’d never touched the silkiness of her own skin and enjoyed her own unique taste. Better that than to suffer the torment of remembering the way in which Georgianna had withdrawn from him after he had informed her of Rousseau’s death.

  The shock upon her face yesterday, when he had informed her of that death, her obvious disgust at his own involvement in Rousseau’s demise, her coldness towards him since, was proof enough, surely, that she still had feelings for the other man?

  And that she would never feel any of those softer feelings in regard to Zachary.

  Even more so, now that Malvern had overheard part of Zachary’s conversation with Wolfingham earlier this evening. The damning part: when Zachary had discussed the conditions of his father’s will and the reason he had offered for Georgianna at all the previous year.

  A disclosure that had been the truth then, even if it was not now, and which Zachary had not felt it was within his power to ask Jeffrey to keep from telling his sister.

  Even though that truth would no doubt damn him for ever in Georgianna’s eyes.

  *

  Bastard.

  Cold, unfeeling, arrogant, impossible, selfish, selfish bastard!

  Georgianna’s ire towards Zachary was so intense this evening she did not feel in the least guilty about her repeated use of that unpleasant word inside her head, even as she had danced and flirted with all of the gentlemen at the Countess of Evesham’s ball.

  As she now muttered several other, stronger, French epithets she had in her vocabulary, as she edged her way round the ballroom of the Countess of Evesham’s London home towards the open French doors and the solitude of the terrace beyond.

  How could Hawksmere have done such a thing?

  To any woman?

  To her?

  Her conversation with Jeffrey the evening before had revealed that she had been wholly correct in her previous assumptions concerning Hawksmere having calculated intentions when he’d offered marriage to her eleven months ago.

  Indeed, it was worse than she had thought, because the offer had been made only so that Hawksmere might attain a wife and impregnate her, and so ensure that his heir was born before his thirty-fifth birthday. And all so that he might inherit all of his father’s estate rather than a portion of it.

  Poor Jeffrey was most disillusioned with the man he had previously so looked up to and admired.

  To Georgianna it explained so much of Zachary’s behaviour eleven months ago, of course. The reason he had offered marriage at all to a woman he did not even know and so obviously did not care to know. Followed by his anger that she had then chosen to elope with another man rather than marry him. And his distrust and punishment of her for that misdeed upon her return to England.

  No doubt it also explained the penchant Hawksmere had for making love to her. As an example to her, no doubt, as a lesson to her never to cross a duke.

  And Hawksmere had dared to be angry with her when they met again? To punish her?

  How she despised him now.

  Hated him.

  Wished him consigned to the devil.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Georgianna came to an abrupt halt, unable to keep the surprised expression from her face as she now turned to see the man who so occupied her thoughts.

  Primarily because Hawksmere was not supposed to be at the Countess of Evesham’s ball at all this evening. He had sent a note to Malvern House late this afternoon to inform Georgianna and Jeffrey that he would not be attending. He had offered no explanation, but had ended the brief note by wishing them both a pleasant evening.

  That he was now standing before her, after all, caused Georgianna’s heart to flutter erratically in her chest as she gazed up at him from beneath the fan of her lowered lashes.

  He looked magnificent, of course, in his black evening clothes and snowy white linen, a diamond pin glittering amongst the intricate folds of his cravat, his fashionably tousled hair appearing as dark as a raven’s wing in the bright candlelit ballroom.

  And yet beneath that magnificence Georgianna noted the lines of strain around Zachary’s eyes and etched beside the firm line of his mouth, the skin stretched tautly across the pallor of his chiselled cheeks. His mouth was set grimly, eyes glittering that intense silver as he continued to look down at her intently.

  She moistened her lips before answering. ‘I was going outside on to the terrace to take the air.’

  He nodded abruptly. ‘Then I will join you.’ He took a firm hold of her elbow before cutting a determined swathe through the other guests towards the doors leading outside.

  A determination none present dare question and leaving Georgianna no choice but to accompany him.

  She was not sure she wished to be alone on the terrace with Zachary, or anywhere else.

  Her conversation with Jeffrey the evening before, the confirmation of Hawksmere’s perfidy, had cut into her almost with a pain of the same terrible intensity as when André had shot her. Starkly revealing, to Georgianna at least, that she had been using the anger she felt towards Zachary as a defence to hide what she really felt for him.

  Love.

  How it had happened, why it had happened, she had absolutely no idea, but during the events of the past year she had promised herself, if she survived, that she would never deceive or lie to herself again. And somehow, in these past three weeks, she had managed to fall in love.

  She was in love, deeply and irrevocably, with Zachary Black, the emotionally aloof and coldly arrogant Duke of Hawksmere.

  The same man who, it now transpired, had only offered for her the previous year because of his father’s will. A man who had made it more than obvious, now as then, that he did not believe in love, let alone have any intention of so much as pretending to ever have felt that emotion in regard to Georgianna.

  She glanced across at him now as he stood beside her in the moonlight, her expression guarded. ‘Your note said that you would not be attending the ball this evening.’

  Zachary gave a humourless smile. ‘Obviously it is not only a lady’s prerogative to change her mind.’ In truth, he had regretted sending the note to Malvern and his sister almost the moment it had left his house earlier today, meaning, as it surely did, that he would now have no opportunity in which to see Georgianna today.

  At the time of writing the note, Zachary had been feeling decidedly under the weather, his head fit to burst from the copious amount of brandy he had consumed the night before. Even the thought of attending the tedium of a ball increased the pounding inside his head.

  Until Hinds, with his usual foresight, had provided Zachary wi
th one of his cure-alls and, in doing so, managed to alleviate that pounding headache to a more manageable level. At which time Zachary had deeply regretted having ever informed Jeffrey and Georgianna that he would not be attending the ball with them this evening, after all.

  ‘I do not think it altogether proper for the two of us to be out here alone together.’

  Zachary scowled. ‘I am your guardian.’

  ‘And that distinction surely covers a multitude of sins!’ she came back sharply.

  One of those sins surely being Zachary having made love to her. ‘Georgianna…’

  ‘Could we please not argue again tonight, Zachary?’ she requested wearily. ‘I fear I am not feeling strong enough to deal with our usual thrust and parry this evening.’

  Zachary looked at her searchingly, easily noting the pallor of her cheeks. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ He swallowed. ‘Perhaps because you are mourning Rousseau’s death?’

  ‘No!’ Georgianna assured vehemently.

  The duke looked puzzled. ‘And yet it so obviously distressed you when I informed you of his demise yesterday afternoon.’

  She moistened dry lips. ‘I am, of course, sorry to hear of the death of any man or woman, but I cannot in all conscience say I am sorry that André is no longer here to torment or frighten me.’

  ‘But you blame me still for instigating that death.’

  She had never blamed him for André’s death, only questioned the reasoning behind it. But to reveal that to Zachary now must surely also reveal the depth of her own feelings for him.

  A depth of feeling he so obviously did not return, nor would he ever do so.

  In the circumstances, it was humiliating enough, surely, that she had now realised she had fallen in love with the man she’d once so passionately despised. Surely she did not need for Zachary to be made aware of her humiliation, too?

  ‘Georgianna?’ he prompted softly now.

  She gave a dismissive shake of her head as she avoided looking into that searching silver gaze. ‘I blame no one for André’s death but André himself.’

  He let out a shaky breath. ‘I wish I could believe that was true.’

  ‘You may be assured that it is. I was shocked to learn of his death, nothing more. But I believe I must go back inside now,’ she added quickly as she realised he was about to question her further on the subject. ‘It is somewhat colder out here than I had realised.’

  ‘Here, take my jacket.’ Zachary began to shrug his shoulders out of the close-fitting garment.

  ‘No.’ Georgianna had taken a horrified step backwards at the suggestion. She was already completely physically aware of Zachary, of his closeness, his warmth, his tempting masculinity, without being surrounded by the warmth and smell of him, too, as she would be if he were to now place his jacket about her shoulders. ‘I really must go back inside.’ She took another step back.

  Zachary sighed heavily, as he obviously saw her efforts to put yet more distance between them. ‘If it is not Rousseau causing you to now flinch away from me, then I can only presume— Jeffrey lost no time last night in informing you of the conditions of my father’s will, I take it?’ A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

  Her chin rose. ‘No.’

  He nodded. ‘There is no excuse for the selfishness of my actions last year. I deeply regret— I am sorry for— Damn it, would you perhaps consider forgiving me if I were to get down on my knees and beg?’ he grated harshly, eyes glittering fiercely in the moonlight.

  Exactly what was Zachary asking forgiveness for?

  For that cold and cynical offer of marriage he had made for her last year?

  For his distrust and mistreatment of her when she’d returned to England three weeks ago?

  For having made love to her so exquisitely that just to be near him again now made her tremble with that knowledge?

  For being complicit in, if not personally responsible, for André’s death?

  For having made her fall in love with him?

  Georgianna had already forgiven Zachary for those other things, but the love she now felt for him, a love she knew he would never return, was like a painful barb in her chest. And would, she believed, remain so for the rest of her life.

  It was not Zachary’s fault she had fallen in love with him, of course, but…

  To have Zachary get down on his knees in front of her for any reason? To hear him beg for her forgiveness?

  No.

  Never!

  It was unthinkable in such an aristocratic and proud man.

  In the man she now realised she loved with all her heart.

  ‘No,’ she answered decisively. ‘Can you not see how impossible it all is, Zachary?’ she added forcefully as he scowled darkly. ‘That apologies between us now are— That on their own they are not enough?’

  Zachary had nothing else to offer Georgianna but his sincere contrition for any and all of his past misdeeds to her. A contrition Georgianna now made it obvious she neither wanted nor wished to hear. It was as he had suspected: Georgianna could never forgive him. For any of his actions, in the past, or now.

  He had thought long and hard today on his confusion of thoughts at his club the previous night. On what that confusion of feelings, he now felt towards Georgianna, might mean.

  The answer had been so shocking that he had sat alone in his study for hours after the truth had hit him squarely between the eyes, totally stunned, at the realisation that he had fallen in love with Georgianna.

  He had come here this evening in the hope that if Georgianna would at least allow him to apologise, if he could perhaps persuade her into not hating him, that he could then be content with his lot in life. That he could then accept the little she was prepared to give him, as his ward, and perhaps even as his friend.

  Instead he now found he could not. That he wanted so much more from Georgianna than her forgiveness, or her lukewarm friendship. That he wanted all or nothing.

  And this conversation with Georgianna told him it was to be nothing.

  He straightened abruptly. ‘It only remains for me to bid you goodnight, then, Georgianna.’

  She raised startled lids. ‘You are leaving?’

  Zachary nodded stiffly. ‘My only reason for coming here this evening was to talk to you. To ask your forgiveness. To see if— In the hope that—’ His jaw tightened as he broke off abruptly.

  He had been completely serious in his offer to Georgianna just now, had been fully prepared to get down on his knees and beg her forgiveness for his past actions, if it would in any way help to change how Georgianna now felt towards him. If he could ask for her friendship, at least. Her definitive reply had assured him there was no hope even of that.

  Better by far, then, that he should now withdraw and leave Georgianna to enjoy the rest of the evening, to allow her to blossom and glow under the attentions of the other gentlemen present. One of whom she would no doubt one day fall in love with and marry.

  ‘I do apologise, Georgianna.’ He held himself stiffly, unable to so much as think of Georgianna being married to another man. ‘For all and every wrong I have ever done you. And now, pray be assured, I will not bother you again on this, or any other subject you find so unpleasant.’ He bowed formally before turning on his heel and abruptly leaving the terrace.

  Zachary had spoken with such finality that Georgianna could not mistake his words for anything other than what they were. An end to any hope of there ever being so much as a friendship between the two of them.

  ‘Georgie?’

  She was totally unaware of the tears falling down her cheeks as she turned to see that her brother, Jeffrey, had now stepped outside on to the terrace. ‘Did you hear any of that?’ she asked dully.

  ‘Most of it, I believe,’ Jeffrey admitted as he crossed the terrace to her side before taking both of her hands in his. He looked down at her searchingly. ‘I saw your expression as the two of you left the ballroom together and I was concerned enough to stand guard at the doors, so
that I might be close enough to be of assistance if you should have need of me. Your conversation was not at all what I had imagined. Georgie, am I right in thinking you have fallen in love with Hawksmere?’

  ‘Yes.’ Georgianna made no attempt to deny it.

  Her brother nodded. ‘And he obviously has feelings for you.’

  ‘Desire is not enough on its own, Jeffrey,’ she assured heavily.

  ‘Are you so certain that is all that Hawksmere feels for you?’

  She smiled sadly. ‘I am sure you heard Zachary say goodbye to me just now? Not necessarily in words, but in the cold formality of his manner?’

  ‘I heard him saying a reluctant goodbye to you, yes. Georgie—’ Jeffrey frowned ‘—you are much changed since your return from France. You have suffered through so much, more than I know, I am sure. And yet you have survived. More than survived. You have grown into a beautiful and independent woman. More forthright in your manner. Less patient of society’s strictures and more determined where your own wishes are concerned.’

  ‘Yes.’ Again Georgianna did not attempt to deny it; she had indeed become all of those things these past months.

  Her brother nodded. ‘I have no idea how you and Hawksmere can have become so close in such a short time, but I am young still, Georgie, though I am far from stupid,’ he reproved gently as she would have spoken. ‘And there is most certainly something between the two of you. An emotion so strong, so intense, that it is possible to feel the tension in the air whenever the two of you are in a room together.’

  Her cheeks warmed. ‘As I said, desire alone is not enough.’

  ‘I do not believe Hawksmere came here this evening with any intention of making love to you, Georgie,’ her brother reasoned softly. ‘I heard enough of your conversation to know that he wished only to talk to you. To offer to get down on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, for any and all of his past misdeeds to you, if necessary. Can you not give him some credit for that, at least, Georgie? Some understanding of what it must have cost him, such a proud man, to have offered to do such a thing? And to question why he would have made such a self-demeaning offer of apology to you at all?’