Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(27)

A muscle ticked in Adam’s cheek.

Bennett continued. “You’ll need to spend some time here and then you can return to London.”

“How long?” Adam squeezed out between clenched teeth.

“All in good time, Markham,” Fitzmorris assured him.

He paced the floor and listened to their plans for him.

He would remain in this ramshackle farmhouse. He’d have Stone and Fitzmorris for company. He’d return to London in two months, at which time he’d be reunited with his family. Adam stopped in front of Blakely. And Grace. He’d be reunited with Grace.

Adam looked away, unable to meet the man’s eyes. Guilt snaked around his belly. During his captivity he’d thought of Grace. But it had been more a sense of guilt that had dragged her memory into his thoughts. At some point, Georgina had stolen a spot inside his heart and made him question everything he’d thought he’d known to be true.

Bennett tugged on the lapels of his black coat. “So it is decided.” He made a move as if to leave.

“Bennett,” Adam barked.

His superior froze.

Adam looked the cold bastard in the eyes. “There is a woman. A maid. Her name is Georgina—”

“Wilcox,” Bennett finished for him. He slashed the air with his hand. “No need to worry. We’re well aware of Miss Wilcox. She’ll be taken care of.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder out the grimy windowpane.

Bennett insisted The Brethren would see to Georgina.

When Adam wanted nothing more than to be the one to return for her and secret her away from the hell she’d been left to dwell in.





Emmet will accompany Fox to France to discuss the predicted resumption of the Anglo-French War. Orders have come down for Fox to kill the British spy in his possession prior to departure.



A Loyal British Subject





Chapter 7




For nearly a fortnight, Georgina wavered in and out of consciousness. Her every moment was bathed in pain. Her every dream was an alternating universe of happy memories with Adam and the pain of her father’s fists.

Then there was the faceless ghost who’d carried her off to his underworld to torture her for her sins.

Her body shuddered as cruel fingers poked and prodded at her, and she retreated deeper and deeper into oblivion—embracing it, welcoming it.

But just when the pain threatened to carry her off, a kind and sweetly caring voice would call her back. In her dreams, the woman cared for her as if she were a small girl—the mother Georgina had always yearned for, and just the dream of that was enough to keep her within the cocoon of unconsciousness.

At last, she forced her lids open.

“Georgina? My dear, can you hear me?”

Georgina burrowed into the downy mattress. She didn’t want to acknowledge the question, because the agony of merciless hands on her body would follow.

“Georgina?”

She tried to turn on her side.

Gentle hands held her down. “Your ribs were very badly sprained, my dear. It’s best if you lie on your back,” the voice murmured.

With sheer determination, Georgina opened her eyes. She squinted as a bright shaft of light penetrated a small windowpane, nearly blinding her. Rays of sun beamed off the satiny silver of the stranger’s hair. She had to be an angel. There was no other accounting for how she knew Georgina’s name.

Georgina forced words past her sore throat. “Am I dead?” She didn’t imagine angels would weigh anything, but still the mattress dipped under the plump woman’s weight. A wide, white smile creased her cheeks.

“You must feel pretty close to it, my dear, but no, you are not dead.”

Georgina flung her arm over her eyes to blot out the sunshine and a moan escaped. Her face felt like it had been used for a pummeling target.

The flutter of skirts indicated another woman had moved next to the bed. Georgina peeked through her fingers at the young woman now pouring water into a white basin at her bedside. With a crown of pale golden hair and kind hazel eyes, she didn’t look much older than Georgina.

She smiled at Georgina and rinsed a towel, handing it to the kindly stranger.

Georgina looked back at the older woman. “Who are you?” she managed past dry lips.

“You may call me Catherine. I’m a nurse at Bristol Hospital. Close your eyes.”

Georgina obliged.

“They were badly swollen,” Nurse Catherine explained. “But you look much better than when you first arrived.”

A sea of questions filled her. “Who? How…?” She didn’t know where to start. Georgina tried again. “How did I come to be here?”

There was a pause. “There will be time enough for questions later.”

“Please,” Georgina managed.

The woman hesitated. “A man brought you here.”

Georgina’s heart sped up. She shoved herself up on her elbows. The now-cooled compress fell into a damp heap at her side. She remembered a man sweeping her into his arms.

Adam! He’d come for her. “Adam,” she breathed.

Nurse Catherine’s brow creased. She waved off the young woman hovering at the bedside and gestured someone else over. “Do you remember Mr. Archer?”

White spots danced behind Georgina’s eyes and she tried to get air into her lungs. She dug her nails into the sides of the mattress and screamed.