Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(83)

“Mrs. Markham. I’m so very sorry,” he stammered.

She continued her flight to the foyer.

Watson appeared. “I need the carriage readied,” she ordered, giving him her destination.

He inclined his head and hurried to do her bidding.

Suzanne appeared, standing at her elbow. “Steady, Mrs. Markham,” she whispered in quiet, soothing tones.

Folding her arms under her breasts, Georgina hugged herself. When she’d gone downstairs to Adam’s office, she’d intended to apologize for striking him. And she’d wanted to see him one more time before she went off on her mission. She wanted possibly the last memory she would have of Adam to be warmer, something she could carry with her in lieu of courage. Her hopes had been dashed yet again—all she was left with were the hurtful, ugly words between brothers who’d seemed united in their disapproval of Georgina.

She wished Watson would return with the news that something was wrong with the conveyance. A broken axle, a missing wheel, a horse in need of a new hoof.

Whoever was in charge of granting Georgina wishes was remarkably poor at what they did, for he reappeared and held the door open.

Georgina gulped down a wave of fear and passed through the door and down to the carriage with Suzanne trailing behind her.

The moment they pulled away, Suzanne began to speak. “Do you remember your orders?”

Georgina nodded. “I committed them to memory.”

“Good,” Suzanne said. “You mustn’t be obvious in your defection. They will be suspicious. You must tread a fine line between wavering loyalty and anger for your husband. Anything else and they will know you are false.”

The woman continued spewing a sea of orders and instructions until Georgina’s head was swimming.

The carriage rocked to a halt.

“We’ve arrived.” Suzanne rapped the ceiling. The carriage door opened and the tiger handed Georgina, and then Suzanne, down.

“I’m going to the bookshop. Why don’t you t-take some time to yourself.”

“Oh, I mustn’t,” Suzanne insisted, playing her part to perfection.

Georgina waved her hand. “Truly, I’ll be fine.”

Suzanne sank into a deep curtsy, her eyes wide with very believable, yet feigned, appreciation. “Very well. Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Markham!” She hurried off to go wherever her orders had indicated she should be.

Georgina peered down the street. First left. Then right. Drawing in a fortifying breath, she faced the door and entered Ye Olde Bookshop.

The wizened merchant appeared almost instantly. His eyes lit with recognition. Most assuredly due to the great amount she’d last spent in his establishment.

“Good day. How are you?”

Georgina pasted a smile to her face. “Very well,” Georgina lied.

“I’ve recently acquired new books on art.”

“Just splendid,” she forced out. Her life was in shambles and soon, most likely forfeit. The last thing she cared about was books.

He proceeded to carry on a conversation for one, his voice a droning buzz, so that all she wanted was to clamp her hand over her ears and demand he leave her to her misery. She followed him down the long aisle, coming to stop at a very familiar row of books.

This is where I last saw Jamie. Where I first met the duke.

She expected to feel the stirrings of fear and trepidation. Instead, she felt a peculiar nothingness. “Thank you,” she murmured and watched as the merchant hurried off.

Georgina stared at the vast stretch of volumes, the titles a blur of leather. How she longed for this mission to be over.

And then what? Nothing will have changed with Adam. You shall still be the traitorous daughter of the infamous Fox.

To give herself something to do, she touched book after book, counting them as she went.

One hundred and six. One hundred and seven. One hundred and…

“Hullo, Georgina.”

Eight.

Her finger froze on one hundred and nine, toying with the gold lettering. “Jamie.” She didn’t bother to look at him.

I lied, her mind screeched. I am afraid.

Jamie sidled up beside her. He clasped book one hundred and nine and plucked it from the shelf. She peeked at him out the corner of her eye. He leafed through the pages, skimming the words. “You came,” he said.

Suzanne’s reminder knocked around in her brain. “I wasn’t going to,” she lied. “I…I shouldn’t be here.” She turned on her heel as if to leave, and a large part of her prayed that he’d let her go and never bother her with his and Father’s contemptible efforts again.

Jamie placed himself in front of her, blocking her path. “Don’t go.” He took her hands in his.

Georgina’s insides tightened with revulsion. Remembering the day he’d forced his attentions on her, she had to fight the urge to throw off his touch. “I c-can’t d-do this, Jamie. He is my husband.”

He raised her gloved fingers to his lips then pulled back the thin mint green fabric and placed a lingering kiss on the inside of her wrist.

Bile climbed up her throat and she had to swallow several times to keep from being sick at his feet.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

He spoke, seeming wholly unaware of her repulsion. “But you are here, Georgie. You are here, because you know he loves another woman and is undeserving of you.”