A Daring Liaison(29)

Wrong hands? Whatever could she mean?





Save the delivery to Lord Carlington for last. He will have many questions for you, but you will have few answers. Tell him, please, that I never stopped loving him.



There is so much I should have told you, so much I would still like to tell you, but that would be a disservice to you. Please always know that you eased my loneliness and delighted me with your companionship.





Now and ever, Caroline





Georgiana glanced at the following pages and sighed. Just more lists and an occasional name. She had no heart for reading more and folded the instructions. She did not know what she’d expected, but surely more than this. Some personal words, some endearment. As always, Caroline had evidenced a gentle kindness, but...but there was something missing. No mention of love, or even of fondness. She’d been an obligation, if not an imposition. She’d known it, but she had wondered if, at the end, her guardian would give her that crumb. I love you, my dear.

She fought tears as she slipped the stack of letters back into the packet and wondered what it would feel like to be truly loved. For a brief moment in time, she’d thought Charles Hunter had felt strongly for her, but then Lady Caroline had advised her that his emotions were simply the excitement of the hunt. Oh, but they’d been so indescribably thrilling. She’d felt almost as if she were flying for those brief weeks all those years ago—loving, feeling loved. Almost feeling as if she belonged. But she’d never felt it again, nor would she feel it in the future. No more marriages for her. No more hopes of love and a family of her own.

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, remembering what Charles Hunter had done to her in his coach. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that was love. Sometimes she suspected he could barely tolerate her. But if anyone had been wronged back then, surely it had been her.

Was it a mistake to let him pretend they were engaged? Even prepared, he was risking his life. Why would he put himself in such a position? The chase? The passion? The conquest? His love of danger?

She stood and went to stir the coals in the fire as the afternoon drizzle continued outside the window. She supposed his reasons really didn’t matter. She only needed to know what—or who—was behind her ill fortune. She wanted to obtain justice for her deceased husbands.

* * *

Charles handed his dripping hat and coat to Hathaway, ignoring the man’s disdain. He fought the temptation to say something scathing since he did not want to overstep Mrs. Huffington’s authority with her servants, but if she did not handle this man soon, he would.

“I shall inform Mrs. Huffington that you are here,” Hathaway said, a slight curl to his lip.

Charles clenched his teeth and ground out, “Never mind, Hathaway. I shall announce myself.”

“But, sir—”

He did not acknowledge the man’s protest as he continued toward the library. That much of the house, at least, he was familiar with. She stood as he entered the room and the expression on her face surprised him. Fear? Surprise?

“Oh! Mr. Hunter. I did not hear the bell.”

He went to the decanter on a side table and poured himself a glass of sherry as if he was completely comfortable here. In fact, when he glanced at the two chairs facing the fireplace with a small table between them, all he could think of was a day long ago, when he’d sat where Miss Huffington sat now, listening to Lady Caroline tell him in detail how unwelcome his attentions were to her ward. He swallowed the sherry and poured another before facing her, squelching the old anger at Miss Huffington’s cowardice in not facing him herself.

“Hathaway let me in. I told him I’d announce myself.”

“I see.”

Disapproval from her, too? The sherry hit bottom and he smiled with the warmth and confidence it brought. “You had better get used to it, Miss Huffington. Once we announce our engagement tomorrow, people will expect me to become a frequent caller here.”

“But my servants will talk.”

“Servants always talk. There is nothing we can do about that but use it to our advantage.” He poured another glass and took it to her before sitting in the vacant chair. “We shall let them believe our engagement is genuine. If we are to carry this off, no one must know the truth.”

She nodded as she took the glass and sank back against the cushions of her own chair. “Very well. Is that the purpose of your visit here today? To accustom the servants to your presence?”