Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(87)

Suzanne hovered in the doorway.

Adam strode through the immaculate room, knowing implicitly what his wife’s maid had already verified—Georgina was not here.

He frowned, turning in a slow circle. His gaze landed on her armoire.

Adam threw open the oak doors and began tossing aside dress after dress, examining the contents until they littered the floor in a colossal heap of satins and taffeta. He stomped over the garments, his boots crinkling the expensive fabrics.

“What are you looking for?” Suzanne asked, suspicion lacing her words.

Adam ignored her question. He stopped beside Georgina’s faultlessly made bed and tugged the coverlet off, tossing it to the ground.

The maid gasped.

A familiar red leather book peeked from beneath Georgina’s pillow. Adam frowned and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. Absently he looked through the book when one particular page snagged awkwardly on a lone scrap of paper.

His heart quickened.

“Sir?” Suzanne pressed.

Adam removed the sheet and unfolded it to read the damning words. His stomach felt as if he were being pitched around the deck of a small vessel on a stormy sea.

Four o’clock.

Ye Olde Bookshop.

Leave your maid.

Ever Yours, H

H.

An image surfaced of Georgina wrapped in Hunter’s arms, the other man lifting her skirts and f*cking her while she cried out with longing for the man who’d stolen Adam’s freedom and destroyed his life.

A filmy layer of pain and fury descended over his eyes, blurring his vision. His fists tightened convulsively around the paper, crinkling it into an unrecognizable ball. With a roar that tore from somewhere deep within his heart, Adam tossed it across the room and slammed his fist into the coverlet.

Goddamn her.

“Sir!” Suzanne cried when he spun around and all about flew from the chambers.

He raced down the stairs, bellowing for his carriage.

*

Four o’clock.

Ye Olde Bookshop.

Leave your maid.

Ever Yours,

H

Georgina stared across the bustling street at the bookshop.

It had been ten days since she’d had her first and last meeting with Jamie. She’d not heard hide nor hair from him or the duke.

Until this morning. She’d had to work quite hard to slip out without Suzanne noticing. The maid clung to her side like an aged vine wrapped about an old oak. Now, part of her wondered at the wisdom of setting off alone. The duke had made it quite clear that Suzanne was to accompany her everywhere.

He’d not however indicated what she should do if Jamie requested a meeting and ordered her to leave Suzanne behind.

She’d had the better part of the day to analyze the prudence of her intended actions. In the end, she had rationalized that if she were to provide the assistance the Crown needed then she would have to take these added risks. Thus far, she’d only obtained a solitary piece of information for the duke—the name, Ackerly. She’d pledged to help the Crown and her efforts had proven ineffectual.

No longer.

Squaring her shoulders, she set off across the street and entered the bookshop. Georgina managed a quiet greeting for the merchant, who tried in vain to engage her in conversation. Her nerves were too frayed to muster pleasantries and she wandered in silence down the long rows.

She stopped in front of a shelf and stared at the book directly in her line of vision. Othello.

Her lips turned in a sorry rendition of a smile. Shakespeare’s work seemed very apropos. Take note, take note, O world, To be direct and honest is not safe.

With a sigh, Georgina set it aside.

In the nearly three weeks since Adam had discovered her betrayal, he’d tempered the stinging vitriol he directed her way. He’d also not indulged in spirits since the day in the library when she’d slapped him. Their names had also appeared less and less in the scandal sheets, though that had more to do with their retreat from Society’s peering eyes.

Her husband had not warmed to her, however. He made no move to touch her or engage in any real conversation outside of rapid questioning as to where she’d been and what she’d done each day. Georgina knew Adam’s questions stemmed more from suspicion than any real interest in how she spent her days.

She had tried to weave her way back into his good graces. Lord knew she had tried. In spite of the toe-curling awkwardness of seeking out a man who could care less whether she lived or died, Georgina would join him in the library, the parlor, or his office whenever she could.

On one occasion, she’d slipped into the parlor and found him with a sketchpad in his hands—his head bent low over the page, tousled blond locks falling over his eye.

Reminded of the things that had united them during the days of his captivity, Georgina had slid behind the pianoforte and begun to sing. Adam had jerked his head up, his erratic movement sending the sketchpad falling to the floor.

He’d glowered at her with such dark annoyance that she’d fumbled with the keys, creating a discordant, grating noise. She’d closed her mouth, risen clumsily to her feet, and stormed from the parlor.

Georgina had long ago realized that she would not be able to win back her husband’s affections. Even if he forgave her, she would always be Fox’s daughter and that could not be undone.

Her heart tightened at the truth of her silent acknowledgement. Georgina shoved her sorrowful musings into a deep corner in her mind. She could not think about this. Not now. She needed to be prepared for her meeting with Jamie.