Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(68)

His words scoured her like a dull blade raked along her exposed and already battered heart. She fisted a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out, unable to sort out which was more agonizing: his cruel words or the emotionless way in which he spoke of her death. She reached a hand out in pleading, but he swatted it away.

“There’s nothing left to say. Get ready. We have a ball to attend, dear wife.”

With that, he spun on his heel, leaving Georgina more shattered and broken than the lone tumbler lying in jagged shards at her feet.

To keep from descending into madness, she fell back into the role she’d assumed for the past years—that of maid. Georgina sank to the floor and began to collect the tiny bits of glass, gathering it into a neat little pile. She welcomed the sting of pain as the occasional shard punctured her skin, even embraced the flood of nausea that her small drops of blood elicited. They reminded her that she was alive. She’d survived twenty years of being beaten, emotionally battered, and unloved at her father’s hands, and she would survive this too.

A sob escaped her. The tears flowed as her body was wracked by convulsive gasps of despair. This was so very different from the hurt she’d known at her father’s hands. He was a vile, greedy traitor. Adam was good, and honest, and caring. And he’d made her believe in love. He’d made her believe there was goodness in the world.

Only now did she confront the truth, the ugly reminder that the Lord had decided she was a person undeserving of love and happiness.

She buried her head in her hands, weeping until her ribs ached and her throat burned.

He expected her to don her lovely sea-foam green gown and paste a smile to her face. The urge to run was strong. Her gaze darted around the room in search of valuables. Surely, she could take enough of value and be gone? Flee this world of false happiness and go somewhere…

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“Why bother, Adam? Dreams aren’t real.”

“Surely you must have dreams?”

“Dreams are for small children.”

“Wouldn’t you want to see Paris?”

“We’re on the cusp of war with France,” she pointed out. “I hardly think Paris would be my best destination.”

He waved his hand. “Fine, Rome then, or Greece. Don’t you want to see the world?”

The whisperings of that day were so vivid it was like being transported to the small chambers that had served as Adam’s prison.

He’d asked where she would go…but she was in the only place in the world she would ever want to be.

And it was the one place she would never be allowed to stay.





Chapter 20





Georgina had tucked herself into the corner of the spacious carriage bearing them to Lady Ashton’s ball for her introduction into Society. She had the look of a small fox burrowing within the fabric of her shimmering blue cloak as though she feared he’d reach over and strangle her.

The image she evoked raised the ugly reminder of who she was. Fox’s kin—his enemy and captor’s daughter.

Adam directed his attention outside to the passing scenery. That way he didn’t have to see her ashen cheeks and those wide, wounded, brown eyes. When she looked at him as if he’d torn apart her world, his insides roiled with remorse. Adam reminded himself that Georgina’s misery was of her own making. He told himself her tears were the practiced tools of a skilled actress.

None of that mattered; guilt threatened to rip him apart. It only made him that much more enraged…with himself. With her. With all of it. Not even the bottle of whiskey he’d consumed that day had managed to quash the dull hurt.

How dare she look at him as if he’d betrayed her? Not when she’d been the one to deceive him from the moment they’d first met, the one who’d lured him in and trapped him into this sham of a marriage.

Bennett had assured Adam the marriage would be dissolved—either by Georgina’s death or upon special orders from the king himself.

The promise should have eased Adam’s troubled mind. Instead, whenever he thought of her gone from his life, it felt like his heart had withered and died within his chest. He told himself his reservations stemmed from a fear of the way the dissolution would reflect on his mother and brothers. The words rang hollow in his mind.

The carriage drew to a halt. Adam peered out the window at the long line of guests before them.

He gritted his teeth. Bloody wonderful. Just what he needed: more time alone with his wife.

Wife.

His lip curled and he dropped the curtain back into place.

“Here we are,” he said flatly. “Are you prepared to use your skills to charm the lords and ladies this evening?” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut into her response. “Do you fear being viewed as an interloper?” he asked viciously.

With her grace and elegance, no one could take her for anything but a lady.

That irascible, brown tendril escaped the artful arrangement of curls atop her head. She brushed it back, angling her chin upwards. “I’ve lived through a good deal more than the haute ton. The last thing I fear is their treatment of me.”

Ah, how very brave his wife was. He could detect the faint tremble in her words and yet she spoke with resolve and courage.

He gripped the edge of the seat and he blinked back the effects of too much alcohol.