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
