Adam looked away. His role with The Brethren precluded him from sharing key pieces of himself with his brother. He couldn’t mention how he’d come to know Georgina, nor did he care to get into details about Grace Blakely.
Nick placed his hand upon Adam’s shoulder, and Adam met his gaze square on.
“There is something about her I simply do not trust, Adam. You offer me very little about her background, and if I might speak plainly—”
Adam shrugged off his touch. “You haven’t been up to this point?”
Nick ignored his sardonic question and continued. “If this is about work, I’ll find her work. I am not suggesting you leave the woman to her own devices.”
Adam gritted his teeth. “Her name is Georgina.”
“Very well, then. I’m not suggesting you leave Miss Wilcox to her own devices. I can have my housekeeper set her up with a position in the household. Hell, set her up as your mistress but, by the good Lord, you cannot wed her!”
“He’s right, Adam. You cannot marry me.”
The color leeched from his skin as he swiveled on his heel, his heart lurching in his chest.
Georgina stood there, a perfect, pale, porcelain doll—small, fragile, and helpless amidst a room of life-size beasts. Based on the faint quiver to her lips and the white-knuckled grip on her skirts, she’d heard Nick’s scandalous proposal. A wave of hot fury licked at his insides and he wanted to hit his brother all over again.
Tony popped up behind Georgina. He waggled his finger at Nick. “Ain’t the thing, discussing a mistress, in front of a young lady.”
And now he wanted to hit his younger brother for showing Georgina to Nick’s office and exposing her to his brother’s priggish, bombastic views on status.
“Get out,” Adam ordered quietly.
When Tony didn’t move, Nick pointed to the door. “Out.”
Adam locked eyes with Georgina. Her gaze bled with hurt and humiliation. This was a wrong he’d committed. He’d be the one to soothe those wounds. “You, too, Nick. Out.”
*
Georgina braced for the earl’s protest, but to her surprise, he turned on his heel and left his office. The door closed behind him with an ominous click, leaving her and Adam alone. She rather suspected the earl’s willingness to leave had more to do with his confidence that Georgina would not capitulate to Adam’s harebrained offer. She studied the tips of her serviceable black boots atop the Aubusson carpet, the stark contrast a glaring reminder of who she was and who they were.
“Aren’t you going to look at me?” Adam asked quietly.
No. It was too hard to have all she’d ever longed for stretched out before her, hers for the taking. Except, as the minutes ticked by, she remembered Adam was the only other person who could weather silence with the same aplomb.
She glanced up and gasped, forgetting her dismissal, cruel Nurse Talbert, and the lofty Earl of Whitehaven. Adam looked horrific. “Adam, your face!” She rushed over and gingerly touched his swollen lip. He flinched. His blackened eye was a blend of purple and blues. Transported back to those hellish days of his captivity, she closed her eyes.
Adam rested his hands on her shoulders. “Georgina, this isn’t your fault.”
She swallowed, not opening her eyes because she didn’t believe him. It was. All of it. More than he knew. To compound all the ways in which she’d wronged him, she was now responsible for this friction between Adam and the earl.
“Adam, you mustn’t argue with him.”
Not for me. Not about me. I’m not worth it.
He lowered his brow to hers and inhaled deeply, as if she were a fragrant bud, and he wanted to forever remember her scent. “I’ll not allow anyone to disparage you, Georgina.”
If only he knew what kind of blood flowed through her veins, he wouldn’t so much as sully his hands by throwing her out onto the street. She couldn’t continue the lie, not to a man who was willing to battle his powerful brother—a brother he loved—for her honor.
“I-I n-need to tell you something, Adam.” Her insides fairly shriveled in fear of the condemnation she would see once she made her revelation. How long did it take a glimmer of admiration to die? A heartbeat? A second? The blink of an eye? “I don’t deserve your kindness.”
He held a finger to her lips. “Shh. You are a good woman—”
“Stop saying that,” she cried, spinning away from him. She hugged her arms to her chest. “I am not a good woman. I’m the opposite of a good woman.” Evil. Vile. Cunning. And a coward, because she couldn’t even say those words aloud. “I can’t marry you.”
He stood there for a long time, watching her through hooded eyes. Finally, he said, “You can.”
“Fine, I won’t marry you. There are a thousand reasons,” or more, “why I can’t marry you. And only one reason I should.”
She shouldn’t have said that last part, because he dug his teeth into that statement and clung on. “What is the one reason, Georgina?”
Her throat swelled with emotion. She shook her head.
He closed the distance between them in four long strides and framed her face with his strong fingers. “What is the reason, Georgina?” he pressed.
It was the gentle prodding that weakened her resolve, shattered her, and humbled her enough to admit the truth. “I love you.” The words came out strangled.
A fat teardrop squeezed out the corner of her eye. He brushed it back with the pad of his thumb.
“Oh, Georgina,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “that is reason enough.”
Not, “I love you, too”. Her heart wilted in her chest.
What did you expect, Georgina?
“You took care of me,” Adam continued in a husky whisper. “You protected me, and what did I do, Georgina? I left you. Let me marry you.”
Good, honorable Adam. He would marry her all out of a misplaced sense of obligation. She’d never imagined that a marriage proposal from this man could cut like a knife.
“I didn’t protect you—”
He made a sound of protest. “You did. You—”
She held a finger up. “Please!” she cried.
He fell silent.
“I could have helped you. I could have done more. And…” She sucked in a fortifying breath. “I’m just as evil as they are.”
Adam growled low in his throat. “Don’t say that!” He closed his eyes. When he opened them, calm had been restored. “You are nothing like them—”
“I—”
“Enough!” The one word resonated off the plaster of the Earl of Whitehaven’s palatial office. “This is not the time to discuss what happened in the past. Marry me. If for no other reason than because you have no employment prospects and nowhere to go.”
She wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him. Yearned for him with the same intensity that had gotten Eve cast out of paradise.
The Earl of Whitehaven’s vile suggestion twisted around her brain like a slithering snake, shaping an idea. “I…” She licked her lips. “I can be your mistress.”
Another man has been taken captive. His name is Adam Markham.
Signed,
A Loyal British Subject
Chapter 12