Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (23 page)

“I see your puzzled look, sweetheart. I think you don’t believe me.”

“Well, it’s just that—you must have—there’ve been women you have—” she said haltingly, biting her bottom lip. Thinking of Jeremy with other women was not something she wished to ponder.

“I speak the truth, Georgina. I am many things, and several of my traits are less than desirable. But one thing I am not is a liar. I’ve had women before, yes, but never a lover.”

“No?” she asked, hardly able to contain the joy she felt at knowing her husband might actually have deep feelings for her.

“Not before you, my Gina. Not even close.”

“Oh, Jeremy, you fill my heart until it overflows.” She cupped his cheek.

He spoke solemnly. “I have never known the deepness of emotion you cause in me, and it even frightens me a little, but still, I find I must ask the question.”

“What question?”

“Will you be my lover then?”

She laughed at him before answering. “A little late to ask me, I think, but yes, Jeremy, I am honored to be your lover.” Leaning forward, she kissed his beautiful lips and knew great contentment in having the right to do so.

“Thank Christ!” He breathed out a sigh as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting on her answer. “It’s settled then, sweetheart. We shall be the happiest of lovers together.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Love seeketh not itself to please,

Nor for itself hath any care;

But for another gives it ease,

And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.

—William Blake,
Songs of Experience
(1794)

What a difference a week could make in a lonely man’s life. He now had a wife, a lover, companionship, intimacy, hope, comfort…more loving than he’d ever known. A future to look forward to.

The autumn sun warmed the sand and the blanket upon which they reclined. The sound of the swirling surf singing in his ears, Georgina’s fingers trailing through his hair, her lap pillowing his head, Jeremy thought the moment couldn’t be more perfect.

He watched her as she looked out to sea. The elegant cheekbones that swept back to her hairline, the oval face, the rosy lips, the amber eyes, and the glinting hair all captivated him. And she was his to adore and protect.

In the past week, he had taken her around to every part of Hallborough Park and proudly introduced her to the staff and the tenants. He felt ten feet tall every time he announced her as “Mrs. Greymont,” and would bet that everyone who had known him before was no doubt sniggering behind his back at what a sap he was and the fact that he had a ridiculous grin stuck eternally on his face. He did not care. He was a man in love.

Jeremy had a wife. A most splendid wife. A wife who was caring and kind and generous, who welcomed him into her arms at night and into her body. A wife who smiled at him and kissed him and by all accounts appeared to love him back, as remarkable as that seemed. The empty void that had been his heart was filling up.

His grandparents had speedily sent their congratulations, thrilled at his news. They extended an invitation for a visit to their London home and hoped the newlyweds would come as soon as they wished for Town.

But he wouldn’t bring her yet. Town would have to wait. Jeremy was not willing to take the risk of Pellton and that monstrosity of a nephew of his crossing paths with Georgina. She seemed at peace with the memories of her assault, but he couldn’t take the chance that a meeting might trigger something. The bordello guard, Luc, had reported to him that Pellton and Strawnly were still in London, so for now he’d keep her safe at Hallborough. And he’d gotten no word from Paulson that Marguerite had called in for her passage to Calais either. Jeremy really hoped she would take him up on his offer. He had many hopes about a lot of things.

Why hadn’t he courted Georgina sooner? Just a few months earlier and he could have prevented—

“Why are you grimacing?”

“What?” He looked up to see her lovely eyes trained on him, her head tilted slightly. His eyes trailed to the scar on her left cheekbone.

“I saw you grimace. You looked so peaceful at first, and then your forehead got all wrinkly and you frowned. Rather dreadful really,” she teased. “Made me take a second glance!”

“It’s nothing.” He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss.

“Tell me, Jeremy,” she entreated, looking much more serious this time, her jaw clenching a little.

He hated to tell her, but thing was, he didn’t lie. He always told the truth because he abhorred what lies wrought. Lying led to disaster and ruin and betrayal. There was no good in it. And also he knew Georgina wouldn’t let it go. As much as he adored her, there was a stubbornness in his wife that commanded respect.

He worded his response carefully. “I was wishing I had gone to court you sooner—about six months sooner. If I had done so, you never would have been…hurt. Would that I might have kept you from such a thing.”

She kept on stroking his hair and spoke softly. “There is no use in regretful thoughts, for we cannot undo the deed nor turn back time.” Her voice had an empty tone to it.

“I know. I just wish you were free of it, somehow.”

“Jeremy, if it helps you to know that I don’t remember the act–actual attack, then there is that.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head. “I thought you knew. It caused some frustration with my family, especially Papa, because I could tell them so little—”

He knew he shouldn’t and wanted to cut out his tongue the instant the question left his lips, but out it came anyway. “What
do
you remember?”

Her hand stilled on his head just slightly, but he felt the pause clearly before she recovered and continued on with the soft fingering through his hair.

“Dear God, Gina, please forgive me for asking you—I don’t know what came over me. I apologize—”

She interrupted, her voice steady and smooth. “I remember he wore a red coat, and he was drunk. I could smell it on him. I remember his voice was cruel and he spoke nasty things that terrified me. I thought that he enjoyed my fear and that I fought him. But mostly all I remember is the fear. It’s just a black wall of fear right in front of me, and when I turn to avoid it, the wall moves to stand before me again.”

“I am so sorry, Gina.”

“The worst part is that my father is ashamed of me for what happened.”

“That is an offensive notion to me. You were the victim in all of it. Surely your father knows that. And if he does not, then perhaps I should tell him!” Jeremy’s chest hurt. Listening to his sweet Georgina speak with such dignity about someone so evil made him nearly snap in two, he was so tense. He wanted that fucking piece of shit, Strawnly, in front of him, and he with a sharp knife—a large one—so he could slice and peel off his skin, slowly, inch by agonizing inch. He’d start with the bastard’s defiling cock.

She shook her head before she spoke. “But you are helping me to forget, my dearest lover. Each day that passes with you loving me so sweetly, I feel it less.” She smiled down at him.

Her kind words killed the tension in him, just like that. “Well then, I shall have to be an even sweeter lover to you than I have been thus far,” he declared and popped up off her lap. “Starting right now!” He put his lips to hers—

—and nearly had an apoplexy! Loud barking thundered in his ears, the smell of wet dog met his nose, and the spray of sand hit him in the back.

“What the hell?” He jerked his head around to meet the very large, very shaggy, and very enthusiastic greeting of Brutus, the wolfhound.

“You have a friend I have not met, Jeremy!”

“Indeed,” he muttered. He helped her to her feet and did the introductions. “Gina, may I introduce my neighbor, Brutus. Brutus, my bride, Georgina.” He wagged his finger at the hound. “That’s Mrs. Greymont to you, and no jumping, or salivating, or any other ungentlemanly conduct out of you, young man!”

The great beast sat promptly and whined, cocking his head.

“Oh, Jeremy, he’s magnificent!” She reached out to stroke the giant dog. “Who does he belong to?”

“The Rourkes, my neighbors.” He scanned the beach. “Ah, here they come now. They must be out for a stroll like us.”

* * * *

Georgina looked to the couple walking toward them. Another wolfhound accompanied the pair, keeping sedately to their side. The woman was stunning with her dark hair and perfect skin. The man was also darkly handsome and tall, with noble features, sharply edged and serious.

“Brutus! Come!” the man commanded. “Sorry for the intrusion. He is an utter scallywag!” He called to Jeremy and Georgina as they crossed the distance on the hard sand.

“He is that, Rourke, but my wife seems to be taken with him regardless,” Jeremy countered.

The woman’s face alighted in a beaming smile and so did the man’s. “Greymont, did you just say, ‘your wife’? We’ve only just arrived back to the country and must’ve missed hearing the pronouncement. Congratulations are in order, my friend, if that is the case!”

“Indeed I did,” Jeremy returned, smiling at Georgina and again providing introductions for the second time in just as many minutes.

Georgina found Darius and Marianne Rourke a charming pair. She liked their dogs, too. The rascally Brutus and the elegant Cleo were gorgeous, and huge, Irish wolfhounds. The Rourkes insisted on having them to dinner at Stonewell Court, seemingly thrilled to meet the woman who had ended Jeremy’s stint as a bachelor. And Georgina looked forward to knowing them as well. It would be a good thing to socialize as a married couple for the first time.

* * * *

“I would love to accompany you, Georgina. The best modiste is Madame Trulier, and she has excellent taste. She can fit you out with everything you need.” Marianne smiled kindly.

“A French modiste?” Georgina remarked. “Are her designs very scandalous?” She blushed at her new friend.

“Yes!” Marianne told her with a giggle. “But your husband will love them. Darius certainly enjoys her efforts!”

They laughed together, and Marianne put her hands protectively over her belly. Georgina realized she was pregnant. “Congratulations,” she offered, directing her eyes at Marianne’s small swell.

“Thank you. By April, the wait will be over. So you see, I have a valid reason for visiting Madame Trulier myself. Nothing much is fitting me anymore,” she said ruefully.

“Jeremy told me you were recently wed.”

“Yes. We married in June.”

Georgina froze. June… That month was probably not a time she would ever feel happy about even if she lived to be an old woman. June had been the end of innocence for her. The end of her old life.

“Are you well, Georgina? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Marianne seemed genuinely concerned and had no idea how apt her metaphor really was. “Let me get you some refreshment,” she urged.

She saw Jeremy’s head turn her way. Even though he and Darius were engaged in conversation across the room, he was attuned to her, able to pick up on her reflection into the treacherous past. Jeremy was ever watchful over her. And that was just another reason to love him so much.

Georgina turned her full attention to Marianne and smiled. “Oh, I am fine, really. Thank you for your kindness. I can’t tell you how pleasant it is to be in your company.” She shook off the melancholy forcefully. No way would she allow it to penetrate her happiness in the present.

“My husband also tells me that you like to sketch.” Georgina steered the topic. “I do also. I’d love to see what you’ve done, Marianne.”