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.
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.
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
