The Unthinkable (17 page)

Edmund caught her gaze across the dance floor. An apologetic smile flickered across his face as he carefully made his way back to her. The promised ratafia had taken some time to procure.

Guilt gnawed at her. The strain of the last week showed plainly on Edmund’s face. He seemed as uneasy as she with the precarious truce forged with Huntingdon. Accepting her explanation that Huntingdon would not interfere, Edmund hadn’t questioned her about what took place that morning, but he knew that it had upset her. He was giving her time to confide in him, but it was costing him. He’d lost some of his easy, swaggering confidence. He was worried and Genie knew it, but couldn’t bring herself to speak of what had occurred—the kiss, the confessions, and her subsequent confusion.

Confusion exacerbated by Huntingdon’s continued presence amongst the ton. Why was he here? Tonight, at least, she’d thought to be free from his infernal presence. Most unmarried men avoided the “marriage mart” like the plague.

Of course, there was one explanation that Genie had refused to heed. Could the rumors be true? Genie had heard the whispers upon the duke’s arrival that he had finally decided to take a duchess.

Was the beautiful dark-haired woman the chosen one?

The very thought turned her stomach.

The gorgeous couple sliding across the dance floor distracted her from Edmund. A third dance. Huntingdon was as good as declaring his intentions. Although Genie hadn’t been able to see the woman’s face, her exquisite profile was enough to attest to her great beauty.

His head fell back and he laughed.

A sharp stab sliced through Genie’s chest.

The indifference she’d brokered from him was peaceful, but surprisingly painful.

Stop it!
she scolded herself, dragging her eyes away from the laughing couple. She was being ridiculous, allowing him to affect her. Even if she accepted that he’d once loved her, that he’d looked for her, that he’d changed from the feckless young man to the determined, hard man who attacked without pretense, too much had passed between them. Too much had happened to forgive and forget.

Why was she acting like a jealous, lovesick fool?

The truth unsettled her. She was not as immune to Huntingdon as she wanted to be. He still had the power to affect her. She must acknowledge it. Only by acknowledging her weakness could she find the strength to defeat it. And Genie would not be turned from her course.

It was time to look to the future. Paying no heed to the tightness in her chest, she tilted her chin and turned back to find Edmund fast approaching, looking more worried than he had only moments ago.

Genie pasted a lighthearted smile on her face. “I thought you’d forgotten all about me,” she said playfully.

Taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, Edmund nonetheless recovered quickly. A dazzling smile warmed his troubled features. “Unhappily delayed, but never forgotten. My mother waylaid me, claiming a surprise, and dragged me halfway across the ballroom before I could tell her of my important quest for refreshment. Reluctantly, she agreed that the surprise could wait.”

Genie laughed. “Well, apparently it couldn’t wait too long because here she comes now.” The countess plowed through the crowd, heading directly for them, an excited smile transforming her face to youthful mischief.

Genie stilled.

The countess was not alone. She led a very reluctant Huntingdon and his jubilant dark-haired dance partner along with her.

The time for Genie to confront her weakness had arrived.

The Countess of Hawkesbury should be a politician. The woman did not seem to comprehend the word no. Somehow, Huntingdon found himself being dragged across a ballroom to confront the person he
should
be trying to avoid.

It had only been a week, but Huntingdon already regretted his promise.

He realized, of course, that Genie had manipulated him into not interfering with her engagement to Hawk, but after learning about the dire circumstances he’d left her in, he’d felt guilty enough to accede to her emotional blackmail.

He owed her. For the life of their child. For the perfidy of his mother. For not keeping his word.

But staying away from her was the last thing he wanted to do. The disclosure of the fate of their child had only exacerbated his guilt. Every bone in his body cried out for the chance to do something about it.

And something else bothered him. The explanation of her past did not ring true. The timing of her marriage just didn’t make sense. He’d had one of his contacts in the foreign office looking into Mr. Preston and found no one matching his name in the army at that time.

Genie was hiding something. Before Huntingdon could accept her marriage to Hawk, he had to find out what it was. But he didn’t have much time. The announcement of their engagement could come at anytime.

Lady Hawkesbury quickened her pace. They were almost there.

He never should have come tonight. His attempts to put the past behind him this week had failed miserably. He knew he had a duty to marry, but for so many years he’d been unable to forget the one that he’d let get away.

Now that he’d found her, he didn’t want to let her go. Not yet at least.

She might have changed from the girl he once loved, but he still wanted her.

It was not often that Huntingdon willingly backed down from something he wanted. And Lord how he wanted her. The kiss had only increased his hunger.

Her tongue flicked out to nervously wet her pouty lips and a bolt of desire shot right to his groin.

He hoped he hadn’t made her another promise that he would be unable to keep.

Heart beating erratically, Genie watched the countess approach with her striking charges. Trepidation and jealousy churned uneasily in Genie’s stomach. She should be relieved that he’d moved on and found someone else to bestow his attention upon. So what if the woman was beautiful, elegant, and positively sparkled with life?

There was something familiar…

Recognition dawned when the woman, eyes fixed solely on Edmund, unable to contain her pleasure, burst out with exuberance, “Hawk, you’ve returned!”

The dark-haired beauty who’d inspired such jealousy by making Huntingdon laugh was none other than his sister, Lady Fanny Hastings. For the second time, Genie had nearly made a fool out of herself with misplaced jealousy over his sister. She’d laugh if she wasn’t so miserable.

In the five years since Genie had last seen her, Fanny had grown even more beautiful. Of age with Lizzie, Fanny was one and twenty and at the height of her bloom. The resemblance to her brother was marked, especially around the eyes and mouth. The same sea-blue eyes sparkled in a face almost Grecian in its sublime beauty. But the rest was pure Fanny: slim nose, tiny pointed chin, high cheekbones, and wide, sensuous lips set off by a creamy peach complexion and chestnut hair that shimmered with flecks of gold in the candlelight.

Her refined, classical beauty seemed at odds with the vivacious expression that transcended her features. Everything about Lady Fanny Hastings exuded warmth: her coloring, her smile, her animated personality. Like the countess she was frank in manner, but open rather than blunt. Every emotion portrayed vividly and candidly on her face. A face that stared at Edmund with unconcealed joy, admiration, and…

Genie’s heart sank. Adoration.

A moment was all it took for Genie to realize that Fanny loved Edmund—or at least thought she did.

Edmund was obviously happy to see her, but there was something unusual in his expression, almost quizzical. Carefully, he took in the elegant form fitting gown, the low curved neckline and high rounded bosom displayed to bounteous perfection. Fanny’s body was near perfection, and she wasn’t hiding much of it. He frowned rather severely, resembling a disapproving older brother.

“Fanny, you look different. That gown…” He paused, looking discomfited for having said too much. “You look older,” he finished brusquely.

Fanny blushed, but was saved from having to make a response to the odd observation by the countess’s timely intervention. “Of course she’s older,” she chided. “Lady Fanny has been out for two years. If you’d bothered attending a ball or two, you would know that.”

Edmund recovered his manners quickly. He grinned, taking Fanny’s hand and bowing. “Forgive me, it seems more time has passed since last I saw you than I realized. You’d just come home from that school.”

Fanny grimaced and finished for him. “Mrs. Peniwithe’s Academy for the Proper Education of Young Ladies in all Manner and Decorum. And that was three years ago. But my brother has kept me apprised of your travels. When did you return?” Fanny asked excitedly. She turned to her brother. “Why didn’t you tell me that he was back from America?” Then back to Edmund. “Did you find out anything about—”

Huntingdon interrupted before she could say too much. “Fanny, I should like to introduce you to someone.”

Fanny took her eyes off Edmund long enough to finally look at the woman hovering so close to him.

Already uncomfortably warm in the crowded assembly room, perspiration gathered on Genie’s hands and brow. Fanny’s feelings for Edmund had just complicated things immensely. Fanny knew everything—well, almost everything—about her past relationship with the duke. Could Fanny be persuaded to keep their secret?

Genie watched as recognition slowly dawned.

Fanny’s jaw dropped. “You found her!” Incredulity echoed in her voice.

Noticing the countess’s puzzled expression, Edmund grabbed Fanny’s elbow before she could do more damage. “Fanny, do me the pleasure of this dance.” Not waiting for a reply, Edmund unceremoniously yanked her off toward the dance floor.

The countess’s eyes narrowed at Edmund’s quickly retreating back. She turned a suddenly distressed gaze upon Genie and Huntingdon. “I think I’m beginning to understand.” Her steady gaze fell upon Huntingdon. “Edmund went to America to attend to some business at your bequest, did he not?”

Huntingdon’s face betrayed none of the tension that Genie knew lie just below the surface. “He did indeed, my lady.”

“I seem to recall you were looking for someone.”

“Why look who’s here, Hyacinth,” came a booming, cheerful voice. Lady Hawkesbury’s recollections were interrupted by the raucous entry of the Viscount and Viscountess Davenport into their small circle. Of middling age and portly stature, the Davenports seemed the epitome of jovial companionship; never far from each other’s side. Genie had admired their unusual proclivity for demonstrative affection from afar. A great rarity in the ton, they were a married couple who enjoyed each other.

She would welcome them if only for their timely interruption, but she was also looking forward to an introduction.

Lady Davenport with her heavily rouged cheeks wore the powdered hair and wide hooped gowns of the previous century. Lord Davenport had the ruddy cheeks of a seaman with a long white mustache that drooped down on either side, reminiscent of a walrus. A very happy walrus at that, Genie thought.

“Fitzie, my boy,” Lord Davenport said, swatting Huntingdon affectionately, if a tad exuberantly, on the back, causing Huntingdon to stumble forward a few steps. Fitzie? Genie had to smother a gurgle of laughter at what was obviously a childhood nickname. Not even Fanny called him that. “Never thought I would see the day that you willingly cross the threshold of the marriage mart twice in one month. Mayhap the rumors are true and you’ve decided to end your prized bachelor days? Every man’s duty to beget the heir, eh, my boy?” The old man needled Huntingdon forcefully with his elbow in the ribs. “Though the begetting part is not all bad,” he said with a leer to his wife, guffawing loudly at his own ribald jest.

The familiarity and manner of Lord Davenport’s address to Huntingdon suggested a long-held acquaintance. Probably a contemporary of his father’s, Genie thought. Though she could hardly reconcile the memories of the cold, humorless old duke with this brash, inelegant but thoroughly likable man.

“Leave the poor boy alone, Nigel,” said Lady Davenport, with a fond swat of her fan. “I for one am glad to see his handsome face.” Genie wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t been standing right there, but Lady Davenport actually reached over and pinched the Duke of Huntingdon’s cheek. “Always were a pretty one, even as a child. Oh, your mother would be so pleased to see you married,” she said. “Perhaps she might come out of seclusion for such an occasion.”

“Now who’s teasing the poor boy, pet,” Lord Davenport chided. “And men aren’t pretty,” he said with exaggerated affront.

Genie glanced at Huntingdon and was surprised to see a hint of redness in his cheeks. Obviously, he cared a great deal for the Davenports to stand there silently enduring the embarrassing display of affection.

Genie for one found this greatly amusing. To see the proud, arrogant duke reduced to a blushing schoolboy was well worth the discomfort of having been abandoned to his company. Her spirits improved considerably.

Lord Davenport extended no mercy to Huntingdon’s proud sensibilities. “Now look, my dear, you’ve embarrassed him in front of this beautiful girl that he can’t keep his eyes off of. Not that I blame him.” He laughed heartily. He took Genie’s hand and, despite his barrel-shaped belly, executed a spry, gallant bow over her hand. “If you ever tire of pretty, my dear, I can still lead a merry turn around the dance floor. Perhaps a waltz…?”

Despite Lord Davenport’s misunderstanding of the situation, Genie couldn’t help but be charmed. She laughed and mimicked his bow with a courtly curtsy. “It’s an honor, my lord, my lady.”

“Nigel, don’t tease the poor girl,” Lady Davenport reprimanded at the same time. “You know the waltz is scandalously improper.” Lady Davenport took Genie’s arm and nestled it firmly between her arm and bosom. “Don’t listen to him my dear, he’ll stomp all over those tiny toes of yours.”

Rather than be offended by her gesture, Genie found strange comfort in the motherly hold. Although affectionate, Lady Hawkesbury was a typical aristocrat and not physically demonstrative. Genie’s mother had been more like Lady Davenport, always free with a hug and a squeeze. Genie didn’t realize how much she’d missed the easy exchange of affection. She rarely allowed herself to think about how much she missed her mother.