Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(71)

Georgina wet her lips. A sinister darkness clung to him and the last thing she needed was more of what this hardened man represented. She started to leave.

“Please stay, Mrs. Markham. I find myself in need of good company as well.”

She paused. “And you’ve decided I’m good company?” She couldn’t keep the bitter words from spilling off her tongue.

He took a small sip, smiling around the rim of his glass. “I’ve decided you are better company than most of the people out there.”

Her brow furrowed. “Oh, and you’ve reached such an exalted opinion from our in-depth exchanges?” Georgina bit the inside of her cheek, wishing she could call the mocking words back.

The duke laughed.

She didn’t know what possessed her to remain here with this stranger, baiting him. Logic told her to turn on her heels and flee to the nearest empty rooms. Something kept her back. Her toes curled in her slippers at the image of Adam and Grace indelibly burned in her mind. If she returned to the ballroom, she’d have to confront the pain of watching her husband pine for his lost love.

“I like you, Mrs. Markham.”

Georgina said nothing. She hadn’t quite made up her mind about the duke. She’d heard Tony’s low opinion of the roguish peer but had long ago learned to form her own opinions, basing them on more than mere gossip and happenstance.

The duke finished his glass and reached for the decanter. He held it up. “Would you like a glass?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She’d seen what spirits had done to her father, Jamie, and now Adam, and had no interest in turning over her self-control, even for liquid fortitude. “I should leave.” It would not do for them to be discovered alone together. She nearly choked on a mirthless giggle as she imagined being found with the young duke. Oh, the gossips would just love such a juicy tidbit.

Your husband would only care about how it reflects on his family, a cruel voice jeered inside her heart.

“Yet you stay.” He made the observation like a scientist discovering the planetary secrets.

Georgina bit her lip to keep from saying that the only reason she stayed was because she preferred one beast over several hundred.

“Tell me, did you ever read the book I recommended?” he asked.

A stray curl fell over her eye. She brushed it back into place. “I didn’t.” With her marriage and life falling apart, she’d not put much effort into reading.

He inclined his head. “You strike me as an intelligent woman. Do you ever give much thought to the revolutionary principles that took shape in Ireland?”

Georgina’s heartbeat sped up. Warning bells went off in her head and all her earlier fears of being discovered with Jamie resurfaced. “I-I’m sorry?”

Hard lips twitched upward in a smile. “You do know there was a revolution in France, don’t you?”

“Of course I know there was a war,” she snapped.

He raised a brow.

Georgina bowed her head.

This man is a duke. He can destroy you faster than a dog finishing off a discarded bone.

“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I—”

The duke waved off her apology. “I don’t offend easily.” She suspected that was a lie.

He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees. “I am curious what you think about the Society of United Irishmen.”

It was hardly the conversation for a young woman and a powerful noble. Women were groomed to discuss polite topics such as the weather and music. But no one had ever asked her where her political beliefs resided. It had always been expected that she ascribe to whatever political ideologies her father held. Father. Jamie. Adam. They all seemed to think that the blood in her veins determined the direction of her heart and mind.

Georgina sidled deeper into the room, drawn by the possibility of speaking her own thoughts. “I believe there were great benefits to the democratic reforms put forth by the society,” she began. “I also believe there were merits to the French vision of liberté, égalité, fraternité, but powerful men manipulated and distorted the visions and hopes for the people.” She looked him square in the eye. “England is great. It is not perfect, but that does not mean I love it any less, Your Grace. It is not blind loyalty that ties me to England. It is a belief that it is a good, fair country.” She fell silent, realizing at some point she’d ceased to answer the question and had begun to ramble, carried along by the strong desire for someone to hear her, even if it was just a bored nobleman with too much curiosity.

The duke gave her an enigmatic grin that would have set most ladies’ hearts aflutter. “I’m never wrong, Mrs. Markham.”

Her lips twitched. She supposed arrogance went along with the esteemed title of Duke. “I beg your pardon?”

He set his glass down on the table beside him and stood. “I said I liked you and you’ve only confirmed that I was indeed correct about your character.”

“And you know all of that from our very concise conversation?” She heard the skepticism in her own voice.

“I imagine your husband will be looking for you.”

“He won’t…” she started then promptly clamped her lips shut.

“He won’t what?” the duke asked gently.