His brother spoke haltingly. “Is this about a woman?”
Georgina—her cheeks rosy with mirth as he waltzed her around his prison cell—flooded his mind. God, the memory of her hurt worse than the physical abuse he’d suffered at Fox and Hunter’s hands. He needed to speak of her. “There was a woman.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Ahh, I see.”
Adam didn’t want to sit here and listen to his older brother march out an array of inaccurate theories. “She married another man.” It wasn’t altogether untrue. Grace had married another.
“I’m so sorry, Adam.”
Adam took a step. His brother mimicked him. He stepped the other way. Nick did the same.
“I need a drink,” Adam said hoarsely. And he did. For the past months, his strength had been found at the bottom of a bottle. His need for the drink was a physical craving.
Nick placed a hand on his shoulder. “Enough. It is time you move on. We’ll get through this. I promise you.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he snapped. It would never be all right.
Not as long as Georgina is out there, alone and unprotected. Or worse…
His gut clenched at an image of her lifeless body.
Nick seemed unaware of the wicked fears ravaging Adam. He stroked his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t expect you to tell me the truth, but I do think there is more to your surly behavior. You’ve never indulged in spirits like this. You are a different man. I suspect if I press you, all you’ll do is feed me more lies about canals and museums.”
Adam froze.
Nick sighed. “You need a diversion. Why don’t you take a mistress?”
Georgina’s face flashed behind his eyes. He sucked in a breath. The thought of betraying her memory by taking some nameless woman into his bed sickened him. “I don’t need a mistress.”
A small smile tilted one corner of Nick’s lips. “I wasn’t referring to you taking a mistress. I was referring to you finding something else to do with your time.” He glanced at the empty whiskey bottle on the table. “That is, something other than drinking and gaming.” Disapproval underlined his words.
He swiped a hand over his eyes. “I don’t need to be saved, Nick,” he growled, hating the lie that pounded at his breast. He did need saving, but it was not the kind his brother could help with. Adam had failed Georgina and nothing could make it right.
“I can help you, Adam.”
A denial sprung to his lips but he couldn’t force the words out. Adam blamed his blurred vision on the alcohol he’d consumed. “I missed you, Nick.”
And just like that long ago day of their childhood when Adam had been freed from the armoire, Nick folded him in his arms. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You’re safe.”
Adam trembled. It was like the faint rumblings of a distant thunderstorm that grew, and grew, until it opened up into a fantastic display that cracked the sky and shook the ground. He sobbed. Tears poured from him like a deluge.
“G-god, I-I missed you,” he choked out between the great, gasping gulps.
Nick just held him and allowed him to cry.
Adam cried for the loss of the simple, uncomplicated love he’d known with Grace. He cried for the time he would never be able to recapture. He cried for the abuse he’d suffered at Fox and Hunter’s hands.
And he cried for Georgina. He cried until his body ached. Until there was nothing left but a shell of the boy who’d been locked away in an armoire.
Nick ushered him over to the leather sofa and helped him down. Then, as if he were a valet, and not the powerful Earl of Whitehaven, he proceeded to tug Adam’s boots free.
“We’ll sort this out, little brother. I promise.” Nick turned to leave.
He couldn’t be alone. “Please.” He held a hand out. “Don’t.
His brother returned to his side. “I’ll stay with you.”
Adam closed his eyes. “There was a woman.” He yawned.
The leather wingback chair opposite Adam groaned in protest, indicating that Nick had taken a seat. “Oh?”
“Her name was Georgina.”
Emmet is concerned by the apparent leak of information. The persons suspected of the leak are known as The Brethren of the Lords—a group of English nobles who are acting as spies for the Crown. A plan is in place to determine the identity of other members of The Brethren.
Signed,
A Loyal British Subject
Chapter 9
A dull pounding filled Adam’s ears. He squinted into the bright sunlight and glared up at the towering façade of the imposing white structure. When he’d awakened several hours ago, he’d convinced himself he’d imagined the emotional exchange with his brother, the haunting memories of Georgina, and the promise to join Nick at Middlesex Hospital where the earl served on the Board of Directors.
Adam couldn’t think of a place he wanted to be less.
Fox and Hunter’s cruel laughter echoed off the walls of Adam’s brain and he flinched.
That wasn’t altogether true. There were places far worse than this dreary institution.
“This is your idea of a diversion?” Adam mumbled.
He groaned at his brother’s booming laugh. Nick thumped him on the back. “It is an improvement from the company you find in a bottle of spirits.” There was a hint of reproach in those words.
Adam peered at Nick from the corner of his eye, heat making his cravat incredibly tight. He resisted the urge to tug at it, unwilling to let Nick know how his admonition had shamed him.
The truth that Adam kept from him—the tale of his captivity and the countless rounds of torture he’d endured—were not grounds for Adam’s dependence on spirits. His stomach tightened. He hated that he had lost so much of his self-control. After months of indulging, he had to accept that the intoxicating pull of brandy was not strong enough to dull the pain that haunted him. It was the type of agony that couldn’t be healed with a soothing balm or tonic.
He curled his hands into tight fists at his side. And all this because of the two bastards who’d taken him prisoner. If he found them, he would take great delight in—
“Adam?” Nick interrupted.
He started. “Fine,” he answered the unspoken question. He gave his head a shake. “Let’s get on with it,” he snapped, and started up the steps.
Nearly twenty minutes later, Nick had gone off to his meeting and Adam remained rooted to the entrance hall of Middlesex Hospital. He shifted his weight from side to side, unable to stave off the surging sense of awkwardness. What had possessed him to allow Nick to drag him here? The last thing the men in this hospital needed was a visit from a former spy and current reprobate brother to the Earl of Whitehaven. Feeling foolish that he’d allowed Nick to drag him along, Adam spun on his heel and hurried to take his leave. He had nearly reached the front door when an older, graying nurse appeared before him, cutting off his path to freedom.
“Mr. Markham, might I show you around?”
Bloody wonderful.
“Yes,” he growled.
If the nurse detected the spark of impatience in his laconic response, she gave no outward indication. He followed her down the long corridor, the echo of their footsteps sounding off the wall.
He noted how she continued to steal surreptitious glances from the corner of her eye at him. He may as well have been a two-headed demon for the way the woman eyed him.
Adam’s jaw set stonily. At one time, he could have charmed the heart of the coldest dowager. Fox and Hunter had destroyed his ease around other people. Now whenever he moved around strangers, it felt more like visiting a menagerie of exotic animals.
“The men will be so very grateful for your visit.”
He rather doubted it. He didn’t offer much in the way of company. In fact, they’d probably prefer empty silence to anything he had to say.
They entered a large room with several rows of neat, white hospital beds. Adam started. He’d expected a qu
iet, sterile space, not this bright cheery room with pictures adorning the walls. At the tables beside each man’s bed was a small vase of flowers. The winter sun glinted through the windows, wreathing the room in an ethereal glow.
His gaze followed one of the sun’s rays and he froze, suspended in a world where dream met reality.
Her back was to him, but he’d recognize that untamable mane of brown curls in a crowded ballroom.
His heart pounded hard and fast within his chest.
Georgina.
She poured a glass of water and handed it to a graying man.
“Mr. Markham?” the nurse at his side prodded.
He shook his head. “Georgina!” he called.
Her body stiffened.
The nurse gasped. “I’m sorry, sir. This is most improper. Why don’t we return to the front hall?”
Like hell.
Adam started toward Georgina. He’d found her at last—the proverbial needle in a haystack—and he did not intend to lose her now.
Diplomats for the United Irishmen will be received in Paris. The leader Emmet will go to France. He has appointed Fox as the English lead during his absence.
Signed,
A Loyal British Subject
Chapter 10
Over the years, Georgina had lost count of all the bad things that had happened to her. Yet, she could count on two hands the number of wonderful things that had happened to her, and all of them involved Adam Markham.
Since she’d found work at Middlesex Hospital, she’d lived in constant fear that Father and Jamie would find her and punish her for her role in freeing Adam. Whenever a stranger visited the facility, tendrils of fear would fan out and wrap around her lungs, making breathing difficult. At those times, she wished she could curl herself into a ball of invisibility. She’d done a remarkable job of going unnoticed—until now.
The tall man striding across the room like an avenging archangel was different than she remembered. Although lean, his body had the healthy weight of muscle to it. At the furious pace he’d set, his unfashionably long, golden hair whipped free of the queue at the base of his neck. Her fingers all but trembled from the urge to brush back those strands kissed with golden sunlight.
“Adam,” she whispered.
Georgina’s lids slid closed. It couldn’t be. Moments like this didn’t happen to people like her. Magical moments were reserved for good, deserving people who didn’t share the blood of evil men.
When she opened them, Adam stood in front of her, very masculine and very, very real. She had to tilt her head back to look at him.
Hot emotion glinted in the moss-green of his irises. He studied her as if she were the sun, moon, and stars all rolled into one.
Adam took her hand and with infinite slowness, brought it to his lips with the sweet tenderness of which dreams were made.
Nurse Talbert gasped. “Miss Honoria!” The woman’s owl-like eyes were wide with disapproval.
Propriety could go hang. Just then, nothing else mattered. In the months since she’d lived in London and worked at the hospital, Adam had remained with her as a life-sustaining memory.
He continued to hold her hand. Some indecipherable look filled his eyes.
“Miss Honoria, I must insist—”
Adam shot the nurse a withering look that silenced her.
Regardless of the fact that Adam was here, Georgina had to have a care for her reputation. By the grace of God, she’d secured a position at Middlesex Hospital. She could not risk being thrown out in the dead of winter without work.
She tried to tug her hand free to no avail.
Adam leaned close. His breath tickled her skin. “I am not letting you go. Is that clear, Georgina?”
When he looked at her this way, as if she were the most important person in all the world, it made her yearn for foolish, unattainable dreams.
The silence of the room seemed to reach Adam. His hard, powerful stare surveyed the wide-eyed patients, and when his eyes returned to hers, they gentled. “I need to speak to you, Georgina.”
God, how she wanted that. She wanted to be with him and only him, now and forever. But there was Father and—her heart seized—Grace Blakely. “I can’t, Adam.” If she spent any more time with him, it would destroy her with the promise of the things that could never be.
He growled and began tugging Georgina from the room as if he were a conquering lord and she the lady of the castle.
She tripped over her skirts and Adam caught her against him. He slowed his step but did not halt the determined course he’d set.
With the same force of a mountain crashing down atop her, Georgina became aware of the impropriety. She dug her heels in.
“Adam, you must stop!” she implored. In the span of a heartbeat, he’d destroyed the security she’d come to covet.
She cast her eyes back at Nurse Talbert. The woman clutched at her side as she tried to keep up with the rigorous pace set by Adam. Her pale blue eyes flashed sparks of disapproval.
A knot formed in Georgina’s stomach. Her employer would never countenance such scandal. The woman was prouder than King George himself and would rather welcome the mice scurrying around the facility than Georgina, who would become a constant reminder of this humiliation. Georgina would be cast out, and this time there would be no reference, only a ruined reputation. Who knew that panic could be deafening and blinding at the same time? It filled her senses and consumed her until she didn’t know which way was up and which was down. For all the damage Adam had wrought this day, he may as well have been dragging her into the pits of hell.
Adam, however, appeared unaffected by the tremor wracking her frame. He moved like a man possessed. His gaze snapped left and right down the long hall then narrowed on a closed door. Without a knock, he shoved it open.
The two women folding bed linens and towels glanced up. Their eyes widened.
“Get out,” he snapped through clenched teeth.
The women shrieked and, in their haste for freedom, knocked over a small table with folded linens. Their efforts came crashing down like a crumbling, snowy white mountain.
Nurse Talbert caught the edge of the doorway. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. “What is the meaning of this, sir? You cannot simply accost one of our maids!”
Adam closed the door in her face.
She pounded away at the door. “Open the door this instant, sir. Do you hear me?”
Adam’s response was to turn the lock.
Georgina slapped a hand against her mouth. Oh, she was done for now. Adam would make it through Nurse Talbert’s rage unscathed—he was, after all, an earl’s brother. Georgina, herself, wouldn’t be as fortunate. Her knees knocked together, and this time she was glad for Adam’s sure grip on her elbow because it was all that prevented her from dissolving into a puddle at his feet.
The pounding stopped.
Adam released her. He stood staring at her through thick, golden lashes. Georgina inched away from him until her back met the door.
He reached for her, but she held up a single finger.
He stopped. “Georgina,” he murmured.
She thrashed her head back and forth. “Stop. Please,” she said, when he tried to reach for her hand.
As much as she loved him, he could never be hers. A spasm seized her heart. It had taken Georgina months to accept that Adam would not come charging in on his white steed and rescue her from the hell that was her life.
Adam had Grace. There would always be Grace.
Georgina sucked in a breath, nearly doubling over from the pain of it. Why, even now he might be wedded to the beauty. Georgina would’ve preferred to spend the rest of her days with nothing more than memories of Adam, rather than knowing he’d married his glorious goddess.
She rushed toward the window, covering her mouth to smother a sob. Oh God, it was too much.
“Georgina, please.” His hoarse entreaty threatened to shatter her.
She couldn’t look
at him or the damned teardrops blurring her vision would fall and she couldn’t bear for him to see what a silly-heart she was. “Y-you are well?” she managed, not turning around.
He placed his hands upon her shoulders. Georgina’s body tensed at the unexpectedness of his touch. “Look at me, Georgina.”
She shook her head. If Georgina looked at him, the thin control she had of her emotions would snap, and she’d be left exposed.
“Georgina, look at me,” he commanded. With the care he might have showed an ancient relic, he turned her around.
Despair streaked her cheeks, and in that moment she hated him for not allowing her to hold onto the only thing she had left—her dignity.
He tipped her chin up. His thumb brushed back a single tear. There was another to take its place. He shouldn’t be touching her. It was making her yearn for things that would never be hers.
“Why the tears, love?” His gentle whisper only made the tears flow all that much faster.
“H-how is y-your wife?”
Adam’s finger froze. His arm fell to his side. “My wife?”
“Mrs. Markham. Is she well?” Georgina bit the inside of her cheek.
Adam’s body stiffened.
Georgina used it as her opportunity to escape. This was too much. She’d rather endure the lash than this pain. Her hand was on the door handle before he stopped her. This time with words.
“Grace is married.”
Bitterness, as sharp as acid, burned the back of her throat. What remained of her heart cracked into a million shards, jabbing at her insides until she wanted to twist and writhe to escape the pain of losing him—but then, he’d never been hers to lose.
“Congratulations.” She didn’t know how she managed those words. Not when she wanted to hiss and snarl like a wounded cat. There was no way Grace Blakely could possibly love him like Georgina did.
“If I ever see her, I’ll be sure to pass along your felicitations.” His response was dry as leaves in winter.
Dark Deceptions Page 10
