Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(73)

When he turned up empty from his search, he moved outside to the empty balcony. The crisp, cool air filled his senses, pushing back the liquored haze he’d put himself in. His eyes struggled to adjust to the thick, starless night.

Then he saw her.

His breath caught. She stood there all tall, lithe elegance, her beauty even greater than he’d remembered. Her lips were turned up in a sorry rendition of a smile.

He only managed one word. “Grace.”

If he and Grace were discovered, the scandal would be great—for his entire family. The last thing he could do after all the misery he’d caused was create further heartache. There was also Georgina to consider. It shouldn’t have mattered if his wife discovered him with Grace, but—damn him for having a bloody conscience—he cared. He made to leave.

“Don’t go!” Grace cried out. “Please.”

It was that last pathetic word that halted him mid-stride.

He turned. She held a hand up, outstretched to him as if she’d wrapped a string around him to draw him to her.

And perhaps she had, because—against his better judgment—Adam moved forward, toward the woman who’d once claimed his heart.

He froze in front of her, acutely aware that she was only a few inches shorter than his six foot two.

She cocked her head. “I’ve missed you, Adam.”

Her betrayal should not have matter any longer, and yet it did. It served as a reminder that the women who had claimed to love him were nothing more than self-serving creatures who only thought of their own happiness. He twisted his lips in an attempted smile. “Not enough to wait for me.”

She flinched and a single tear streaked down her cheek. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.”

Adam arched a brow. “Oh? Who are they?”

Grace wiped the tear away. “Come, Adam, surely by now you have figured out who I am? What I am?” She looked at him meaningfully.

And of course, he knew. Oh, it had taken him a good several years to piece it all together, but he’d eventually gathered that Grace Blakely was, in fact, a member of The Brethren. It was the perfect ruse. Who would ever expect Grace, the daughter of a Viscount, to be a member of a spy organization?

Adam frowned. “I really don’t think there is anything left for us to say. You are married. And I…”

I have Georgina.

“And you are married,” Grace finished his thought for him. She reached up and caressed his cheek. “Are you…happy?”

Guilt curled around his stomach as he imagined how Georgina would feel if she discovered him with Grace.

Why do you care?

Georgina was guilty of enough lies and deceit to fill the bloody Thames.

Yet, somehow, for reasons both unfathomable and frustrating, he did care.

He needed to leave.

So why did he stay?

“Did you ever think of me?” Grace asked. The question contained a forlorn note of despair that threatened to run his confounded emotions ragged.

“What do you want from me, Grace? Do you want to hear that I thought of you every day for two years? That when I found out you’d married, I became a bitter shadow of the person I had been?”

Grace stretched a hand toward him. “No, I…” Her gloved fingers fell to her side. “I loved you. I need you to know that.”

He raised a cynical brow. “What good is that supposed to do me, Grace? We’re both married.” For as long as The Brethren saw fit. His heart convulsed with a painful spasm.

Fool! I’m a bloody fool!

“I just want to know that you’re happy.” Grace tilted her head back and the rosewater that clung to her skin bathed his senses, carrying him back to a place and time, long before Georgina and her father had upended his world.

He spoke, his words coming out heavy. “Why does it matter?”

Tears clouded her eyes. “It does. I need to know one of us is,” she whispered.

Adam closed his eyes.

Grace is also trapped in an empty, loveless marriage.

He’d imagined he would feel elated to know that she was miserable. But he didn’t. He wanted her to be happy, because at one time he’d cared very deeply for her. Even now, he still cared. He couldn’t just shut the door on all they’d shared.

So he opened his eyes.

And lied to her.

“I’m happy.”

She tilted her head. “You’re certain. Because I’ve read that—”

He interjected. “I’m happy, Grace.”

She smiled and her violet eyes sparkled with real joy. Leaning up, she placed a faint kiss on his lips. Her breath melded with his.

There was none of the fire that accompanied his and Georgina’s lips meeting. Just—

A chorus of shocked gasps and cries penetrated his thoughts. He spun and faced the crowd of spectators.

When he looked back at Grace, he found all the color had leeched from her cheeks and followed her gaze to his fellow Brethren—Edward Helling.

Helling’s lips were flattened in a single, hard line. The sea of bleeding hurt in the other man’s eyes jabbed at Adam as he wrestled with the unwelcome truth that he was responsible for that look, that pain, that hurt betrayal. Adam glanced away.

His heart fell somewhere in the vicinity of his toes.

Georgina stood just beyond Helling’s shoulder. Her full, red lips were rounded in a moue of shock. Had she taken a bullet to the heart, she could not have looked more surprised.