Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(30)

Nurse Catherine gave her a stern look. “I’ll be insulted if you don’t.”

Georgina wanted to protest but the reality of her situation, the uncertainty of her future, killed the polite rejection.

She bowed her head. “I can never repay you.”

Nurse Catherine took her hands between her own. She gave them a gentle squeeze. “There’s nothing to repay.”

Mr. Archer held his arm out. “Miss Wilcox, we have to leave.”

Georgina swallowed hard and, with a final thank you, left with Mr. Archer.





Forgive my silence these past months. Emmet has plans to travel to Fort George in Scotland and meet the United Irishmen interned there. He will then sail from Yarmouth to Hamburg.



Signed,

A Loyal British Subject





Chapter 8




3 months later

Adam fumbled for his tumbler of French brandy, inadvertently tipping the bottle of whiskey on the drink cart.

He swiped a hand over his eyes. The Brethren had nurtured him back to health—and questioned him about Fox and Hunter. He’d given them everything he had on the bastard traitors. What had his work gotten him? For all his efforts, The Brethren had seemingly washed its hands of him.

He’d dedicated his life to the organization. All for the good of England.

His lip curled.

With his free hand, he located his glass of brandy. He tossed back the contents. After six tumblers of the stuff, his mouth had long gone numb. And his fingers. And toes.

It was his blasted heart that remained wholly unaffected by the alcohol dousing.

He’d returned to his family three months ago. It would appear he’d been one month too late.

He glanced down at the open sketchpad next to him. His lip curled. Grace Blakely’s angelic face leaped off the page. Adam ripped the image from the book and shredded it with a gleeful precision. He sprinkled the scraps on the floor.

Because he was a glutton for pain, he fumbled for the four-month-old copy of the London Times beneath the sketchpad. He picked it up and crushed it in his fist. The paper cracked and crinkled like kindling for a fire. His gaze wandered over to the roaring fire across the too-warm room. He surged to his feet and stormed over to the hearth.

Setting his glass atop it, he tortured himself with the words on the page.

Miss Grace B, daughter of the 5th Viscount Camden, was wed to Lord Edward Benedict Helling, brother to the Duke of Aubrey.

After everything he’d lost and all he’d suffered, this was the final lash across his back, the kick to his gut. Grace had wed another. It didn’t matter that at some point Georgina had needled herself inside his heart and thoughts. The loss of Grace served as a reminder of all he’d lost because of The Brethren.

He tossed the paper into the flames. Fire licked at the edges, singing it black, then consumed it.

Adam reached for his glass and brought it to his lips. He downed the fiery brew in one long swallow.

For three months, he’d battled like Achilles not to succumb to his sexual desire. Oh, there had been plenty of times when he’d wanted nothing more than to lay Georgina down, spread her legs, and plunge his aching shaft between her pale thighs. But he hadn’t. There had been the one instance when he’d very nearly betrayed Grace, but he’d stopped himself. How many times had he lashed himself with the proverbial whip for lusting after her?

A bitter laugh escaped him. It turned out Grace Blakely hadn’t cared as much as he’d believed. The muscles in his belly tightened as he focused on Grace’s betrayal. In doing so, he didn’t have to think about Georgina Wilcox with her chocolate brown eyes and bow-shaped lips. He didn’t have to think about how she’d cared for him. He didn’t have to think about how he’d promised to help her. Or how miserably he’d failed.

His clenched his eyes tight to try to blot out all the ways in which he’d failed Georgina. For the remainder of his days he would punish himself with imaginings of the horrors she’d endured at Fox’s hands. He’d gone back there, to the place of his imprisonment, with Bennett and Blakely, but the house had been silent. Silent and empty. And just like that she was gone…without a trace.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” he roared.

The door opened. His brother stood framed in the entrance. His lips tipped in a perfect rending of aristocratic disapproval. “May I come in?”

“I said go away.”

“Lovely to see you as well, little brother,” Nick said dryly. He waved off Adam’s butler. The door closed behind them. When he turned back to face Adam, he didn’t waste any time. “Mother is concerned about you, as well.”

Adam fumbled for a new glass and the decanter of brandy. Finding it nearly empty, he grabbed the whiskey. “And Tony, don’t forget Tony.”

Nick’s lips tightened in a flat line. “No, Tony isn’t concerned. He told me to tell you he’s annoyed with your childlike behavior.”

Adam filled his tumbler to the rim. Amber droplets spilled onto the floor.

Nick placed himself directly in front of him. “I believe you’ve had enough to drink.”

In a show of defiance, he tossed back the contents.

Nick placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been like this since you returned from your travels. Where were you?”