“He’s speaking the truth,” Aubrey said. “For more than four years, Miss Wilcox has aided The Brethren. Her efforts have proven invaluable.”
The growing unease stirred in his gut once again and he tried in vain to tamp it down. He dug his fingers into his temples and gave his head a frantic shake. “Lies.” The denial tore from his throat, hoarse and guttural. “You lie.” They had to be lies, because if they weren’t, that would mean Georgina had been loyal to him and the Crown. That would mean when she’d insisted on her innocence she’d been telling the truth. And that would mean he had turned her over to Hunter’s clutches. His stomach pitched. Oh God, I’m going to be sick. “Back. We have to go back,” he rasped. “I left her with him.”
Aubrey cursed and banged on the roof of the coach, calling out new orders.
Disdain seeped from the stranger’s eyes. “You bloody fool.” Guilt knifed away at Adam’s insides. He pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes and tried to blot out the horror of what he’d done. This was so very different from the betrayal he’d felt when he’d learned of Georgina’s birth. This was a hell of his own making, born of his insecurities and unwillingness to see his wife for the beautiful gift she was. And because of it, he’d placed her life in the hands of that monster.
Aubrey dropped a hand on his shoulder. “We will get her back.”
“And, God willing, she’ll be alive,” the stranger spat.
Adam’s heart shriveled in his chest.
She has to be alive. She has to.
She had to live because he needed to spend the rest of his life atoning for all the ways in which he’d wronged her. Sucking in a ragged breath, he closed his eyes and saw her as he’d left her—pleading with him in words and through the depth of emotion in her eyes to protect her.
And what did I do? He’d walked out on her, abandoning her to the clutches of Hunter and Fox. His mind screeched a protest. Unable to bear the images he’d conjured, he banged his head against the back of the carriage in a slow, punishing rhythm. Fox would not kill her. He couldn’t kill her. What manner of man could? That was, if Georgina was even Fox’s daughter.
His eyes popped open. “Is she the daughter of Fox?”
The stranger spat on the carriage floor—a crass reminder of what he thought of Adam. “Is that all you care about?”
“No. I…” At one time, that might have been the case. He swallowed hard, holding his palms up. “No, it isn’t.”
Aubrey took mercy. “An anonymous informant has been notifying The Brethren of Emmet’s plots and plans for a number of years. This person identified Fox and Hunter as key figures for us to watch and follow.”
Georgina.
Georgina was the informant.
“For years we’ve suspected Mrs. Markham’s loyalties were not her father’s. We’d purposefully arranged several missions over the years to ascertain her dependability.”
Adam’s stomach tightened. Bennett and Fitzmorris had dismissed his claims that he’d been drugged and betrayed because they’d known it to be fact. Because they’d orchestrated his capture.
As if sensing the direction of Adam’s thoughts, Bennett gave a curt nod. “We sent you in to determine her faithfulness to the Crown. There was another man before you.” He jerked his chin over at the stranger. “Nathaniel Archer was the first.”
Adam looked at Archer, whose eyes brimmed with loathing. A disgusted laugh bubbled up from Adam’s throat. The other man couldn’t hate him any more than Adam hated himself.
He pulled back the curtain, just as the warehouse came into focus.
He didn’t give a damn about The Brethren or that they’d sacrificed his safety and well-being as part of a mission. There’d be time enough for those recriminations later… For now, all he cared about was getting his wife back.
The carriage hadn’t even drawn to a stop when Adam opened the door and leaped to the ground. He faltered but was on his feet in moments and running toward the factory. The three men followed in his wake.
The crack of a gunshot split the mundane street sounds and his body jerked to a stop so suddenly that someone crashed into his back, nearly sending him pitching forward.
The echo of the shot danced around his mind. Stars dotted his vision.
Georgina!
*
Georgina knew particular things with complete certainty. The sun rose every morning. The sun set each evening. Men were driven by avarice and greed.
Adam had walked out on Georgina, abandoning her to Jamie’s evil and, as Jamie tugged her through the empty warehouse, she faced another absolute certainty—her life was forfeit.
Jamie stopped, shoving her down atop a wooden crate. “Sit.”
Then like an evil spirit materializing through the fog, Father appeared. He didn’t so much as utter a greeting, and Georgina knew enough to remain silent and draw as little attention to herself as possible while Jamie and Father conversed.
The occasional name reached her ears. They mentioned France several times and Georgina knew they were plotting their escape. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe they’d so freely talk in front of her. That is, unless they didn’t plan on her being alive much longer.
Georgina used the time they spent in distracted conversation searching for anything with which to arm herself, focusing on survival, because if she didn’t, the hurt of Adam’s abandonment would destroy her faster than a bullet to the heart. Except the thought had crept in and there was no shaking it free.
How easily he’d believed the worst in her. Just like everyone else in her life, he’d only seen her failures and shortcomings—in this case, her greatest crime was the blood in her veins. As much as she loved Adam, as much as she would fight the devil himself for him, she meant nothing to her husband.
“You’ve disappointed me, daughter,” Father called out.
Georgina’s lip curled, and she remained seated, hands folded atop her lap. “That is nothing new, Father.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement. “Your grandmother died at the hands of those English monsters. They took turns raping her and, even with that, you would betray me with the British. You would marry one of those bastards.”
Pain lanced her heart. “What those men did to your mother was unpardonable, but not all Englishmen are like them. My husband is not like them.”
He roared and made a grab for her, but Jamie stayed his efforts. “You slut.” Her father’s lip peeled back in a snarl, giving him a look of a beast frothing at the mouth. “All these years stealing information and sending it to the British.”
Georgina sucked in a breath and she flicked her gaze about the room in search of escape.
Jamie continued to restrain him. Father fought against his hold but at his age, he was no match for Jamie’s strength. “Do you know what the best part is, daughter?”
She met his gaze. “No, but I suspect you’ll tell me.”
He licked his lips like a dog savoring a tasty morsel. “You aren’t even married to the bastard.”