Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(67)

“Tell me, Georgina, what name is given to the daughter of a fox? Or,” he took a step closer and leaned down, his breath heavy with the scent of brandy, “the mistress of a hunter.”

Stars dotted her vision. His words were more devastating than had he dealt her a swift backhand. Georgina’s legs buckled and she stretched her hand out, searching for something, anything, to keep her stable, but found no purchase. She sank into a puddle of nothingness at his feet.

Adam took a hasty step away from her, as if even touching her would forever stain him.

“Adam,” she whispered. Except there were no answers. No explanations. Nothing she could say would justify her betrayal. Her love would never mean anything to him, not when her father’s blood coursed through her veins. But she needed to make him see reason, needed to try. She held a tremulous hand out to him.

He ignored it, directing his attention to the sheets of paper that had destroyed everything. “Do you know what these papers say, Georgina? Do you?” His tone grew harsher.

She shut her eyes tight against Adam’s deadened tone.

“You lied to me Miss Wilcox!” he hissed.

She was no longer that woman. She was his wife. Georgina opened her eyes and again reached for him. She’d wronged him with her lies, but she loved him. She would battle the devil himself for her husband. And had fought two demons to help free him from her father and Jamie’s clutches. “Adam, I can explain.” The words emerged broken and hollow.

Adam flung the damning folio at her. The papers fluttered and danced about her in a mocking remembrance of the scandalous waltz they’d twirled…days? Weeks? Years?…ago. Tears seeped from her lashes and fell down her cheeks.

“Lies,” he hissed. “Everything about you has been a lie.”

She shook her head frantically, scrambling to her feet. “No. That’s not true. I love you.” That had been the one truth, the truth that mattered more than all others—or it had. To her, anyway.

A sharp, barking laugh burst from his lips. Adam clapped his hands together with slow, precise movements. “Brava, my dear. Brava. An act fit for the London stage. Tell me, what exactly are you looking for? Information to bring to your father and lover?”

Georgina blinked back confusion. “My lover?” she repeated dumbly.

“Yes, what is his name? Mr. Jamie Adleyson Marshall.” Adam stormed over to the drink cart and splashed several fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. He raised it in mock salute. “I must commend you on a very convincing show when you came to me teary-eyed following his attack. Oh, the laugh you must have had about poor, pathetic Adam Markham who tried to comfort you.” His face contorted as if in pain. He downed the alcohol in a single swallow.

Georgina rushed to him and clasped his free hand. “Jamie was never my lover.” Her skin crawled at the remembrance of Jamie’s vile touch.

Adam wrenched free of her then reached for the bottle. He poured another tumbler full. “To be honest, my dear, if you are indeed who these papers claim, I won’t care when you’re forced to spread your sweet, beautiful thighs for all the guards in your rotting cell at Newgate.”

Georgina recoiled at the vile words spewing from his mouth. The image he’d painted took hold—her on her back in a cold, dank cell while man after man took turns violating her. The horrific images nearly blinded her with terror. She told herself he only lashed out at her because he was hurting. It didn’t lessen the agony that threatened to rip her apart.

Adam caught her gaze and held it. He drew in an audible breath. “Is Fox your father?”

Georgina’s heart tightened. If that was the only question he had for her then he’d never forgive her. She had many regrets, but she’d already realized she could not help the circumstances of her birth. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “He is,” she said quietly.

Adam hurled his tumbler across the room. It slammed into the wall behind her, spraying Georgina with amber liquid and shards of glass. She winced, fully expecting him to charge her and choke the life from her as he’d first tried to do in her father’s house.

Of course, even in his rage, Adam was a different man than her father and Jamie. He spun away, as if the sight of her made him physically ill, drawing in several deep breaths before speaking again. When he did, his words were flat. “I married you against my family’s better judgment. I ignored the very obvious signs of your identity, and for that I am to blame.” He turned back to face her. “If you think to hurt my family, by God, I’ll see you hang. Is that clear?”

The color drained from her cheeks. How can I mean so little to you? How, when you are the reason for my every joy, my every smile?

She managed a jerky nod. “It is clear,” she choked out.

He turned as if to leave and panicked words bubbled up from her throat. “What will happen to us?” Would he have her thrown in prison? A wave of nausea hit her at the mere thought of life in Newgate. She considered herself a survivor but she would die if sent to the bowels of Newgate.

Adam spun back around, an ugly grin painting the perfect lines of his face. “Come now. You cannot possibly believe I’ll stay married to you.” He ran a disgusted stare down her person and appeared to find her as wanting as the rest of the people in her life. “You will continue your role as dutiful, sweet, biddable wife. You owe me that much. I will tell you when the time to end this fa?ade arrives. When it does, do not expect anything of me. No money, no references, nothing. You can hang, starve, or sell your lush body, for all I care.”