Miller, Raine - The Undoing of a Libertine (Siren Publishing Classic) (31 page)

Georgina untied the rope from the tree and bent down to stroke Frisk again when Jeremy’s voice came to her from behind. “So, you’ve got yourself a dog, Mrs. Greymont.”

She spun around in surprise. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough. I heard enough to puzzle it out.” He smiled wistfully. “And the girl was right. You are a good lady.”

“Oh, Jeremy,” she whispered, putting her arm through his. “Let us go home now.” Suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by all the sorrow of the occasion, she was grateful to have her husband for support and strength. She held on to him tightly as they left the little graveyard, which had just increased its innocent souls by one on this cold and cheerless day.

* * * *

Jeremy figured there must be something to the saying “misfortune never comes singly” because here was yet another horror staring him in the face. The letter in his hand was chilling and spurred him into action. He had no choice. The time of indecision was over, and vengeance would no longer be denied. Retribution was coming for Simon Strawnly. Jeremy was going after the bastard.

Greymont,

You don’t know me, but I know your wife. Know her in every sense of the word. I was annoyed to hear you snatched her away for your own pleasures. She takes a cock real well, doesn’t she? I’ll never forget how sweet she felt when I shagged her till she bled. Or maybe that was her virgin blood. All the crying and fighting just made everything that much sweeter. Does she fight you?

You took my plaything, and I’m not pleased. Uncle would have married her if you hadn’t come along, and by the way, he’s still heated you put a gun to him. Now that whore from the bordello, the blonde one that looks like her, will have to do. She’s not as good though—not much fight in her. She mentioned you…that whore, Marguerite. Said you asked about us. Said you gave her money to leave England. Now why would you do that, Greymont? Could it be you wish to protect your bride’s reputation? I’m thinking that must be it. Lucky for you there is a way to accomplish this goal. It will require capital though. Shouldn’t be a trouble for you. Come three days hence:
44 Peake Street, Knightsbridge,
and await direction.

Ahead of you,

S.S.

The urge to kill boiled inside his body. Jeremy was not a violent person by nature, but this letter had changed that facet of his character. With buried rage simmering, he forced a calm presentation on the front, knowing he had to find Gina and tell her he was leaving immediately for London. And another of his character traits was about to take a hard blow as well. He was going to have to lie like hell to her.

* * * *

“But why must I stay with the Rourkes?” Georgina pleaded. “Can I not go with you?”

“No, sweetheart. This is urgent, dreadful business—lives are at stake. There is no time for anything social, I’m afraid. Not this trip.” He smiled a little and stroked her cheek.

“I don’t care about parties. I just want to be with you.”

“And I hate to leave you here, but I’d be in negotiations all day and we’d have no time together anyway,” he said firmly. “No—it’s best for you to stay. I’ve spoken with Darius, and he said Marianne is thrilled to have your company. You can sketch and go to the shops together, take Frisk along—”

She shook her head at him.

“Gina, you will indulge me in this.” He gripped her arms. “I—I cannot leave you alone here, unprotected.” His voice lowered to a hard whisper. “I just can’t. Not after what happened to you.”

She froze. There it was again. Her shame thrown back in her face. Now Jeremy was doing it. Would she ever be free? Free of the hold it had on the both of them?

Georgina gave in because it seemed so important to him, but she spoke stiffly. “All right, Jeremy. I’ll go stay with the Rourkes, as it obviously pleases you.”

He kissed her cheek. “You are a good wife. Thank you, sweetheart, it eases my heart knowing you will be safe.”

She stayed stiff when he touched her, but had to ask him, “When will you go?”

“Today. As soon as I can be ready.”

“Oh, well, I’d better leave you to it then. You must have much to do.”

Georgina stepped back, and Jeremy didn’t stop her. She wished he would’ve. She wished he’d take her in his arms and kiss her wildly and tell her he couldn’t be parted from her and to go pack her things because she was coming with him. But that wasn’t happening, was it? From the look of him, she’d say he was eager to get on the road, and that felt like a stab to the heart. She would miss him, but it seemed he couldn’t wait to get away.

“I’ll come find you when it’s time to bid farewell so we can have a few minutes alone before I go.” He smiled again, but she could see it didn’t reach to his eyes.

“As you wish, Jeremy.” She bowed her head.

Georgina let herself out of his study with her dignity intact. She hadn’t cried at least. And he was being kind and solicitous of her, considering the pressure he was under. It would only be for a few days, she reminded herself. So why then did she feel such a foreboding, like Jeremy was slipping away from her in parts?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

...Murder’s out of tune,

And sweet revenge grows harsh.

—William Shakespeare,
Othello
(1602)

The trip to London gave Jeremy plenty of time to think. Leaving Gina on the steps of Hallborough had been agony. She had stayed on the landing, her willowy shape still discernable when he turned Samson and looked back as he left the grounds of Hallborough.

Their parting had not been as he’d wished. She was hurt, he knew, at being left behind, but he couldn’t have her in Town, not where Strawnly or Pellton might see her. No telling what could happen. It was far too dangerous a risk, and she was too precious to him for risks of any kind to even be considered.

This past week had been a bloody nightmare, a vile weed that just kept spreading. First the boy’s tragic death, then the drunken ravishment that resulted in making her cringe from him like he was some monster, and now this!

Jeremy wasn’t too worried about Strawnly’s extortion attempt though. He had other plans for that shit-bastard, and money wouldn’t be needed where he was going.

Riding Samson reminded him of the time he’d ridden with Gina. It was the day he’d come to Oakfield, the day he’d first seen her again. She had allowed him to lift her up and steady her on Samson’s back, offering herself to trust him.

And that was a curious thing about her. For all that life had done her wrong, she wasn’t hardened by it. She was a generous person by nature. And she trusted him even when she shouldn’t.

He missed his Gina already. Missed making love with her. Missed having her shoulder tucked under his chin while they slept. Missed her scent up in his nose.

He pictured her beautiful body, of how her breasts puddled to the side when she was on her back. He thought of the small birthmark on her left hipbone and how he liked to trace over it with his tongue. He thought about how glorious it was to be covered deep inside her heat, of wanting the sensations to go on forever, but knowing he’d die if he didn’t spill, thus bringing that encounter to a sweet kind of death.

They hadn’t made love together since that night she’d recalled the details of her attack, and the loss made him melancholy. And it worried him, too, now that she remembered everything. In a way, not knowing the specifics had been easier for her. He hated to think of Gina suffering anew as she dredged up exactly what had been done to her. He couldn’t even bear to think about the specifics what she’d suffered. He didn’t want those images sullying the beautiful thoughts of her he carried around in his head.

And that last time he’d taken her, drunk and out of his mind? Hell, he’d wanted to gut himself when she shrank from him in fear. In that instant, in her view, she’d seen him as her rapist. He shuddered in the leather saddle and rubbed the middle of his chest.

Jeremy was determined to make it up to her. As soon as this “problem” was resolved, they could begin enjoying perfectly lovely, mundane days filled with baby-making and whatever the hell else struck their fancies. They had a life to get started, and he vowed no single person or any other obstacle was going to get in the way.

At their farewell, he’d promised they would make plans for a trip to Town at Christmastide, as soon as he returned from this “urgent business.” Thank heavens she hadn’t inquired too far into the details of that imaginative fabrication. He felt guilty for lying to her, but he deemed that the justification served the means when it came to protecting her.

Looking over the dull autumn landscape, his eyes confirmed what his nose had detected earlier. London could be scented long before it could be seen, and even in the stench it looked lovely, the lights of the outskirts twinkled like glow flies hovering on the heath.

Two hours more and Jeremy was seated in a hired hackney. He’d ensconced Samson at the first London stable they’d come upon with instructions, and plenty of coin, to insure his horse was rewarded for getting him to Town so swiftly. He hoped Samson was contentedly enjoying a bag of oats right about now, for the lovely beast truly deserved it.

Jeremy rapped on the window to signal the driver. A few moments later the hack pulled up to the prearranged stop. From the opposite side of the road, Jeremy took in the surroundings of number forty-four, Peake Street. He perused and sized it up from all angles. He needed to know everything he could about his enemy before he struck. That’s why he’d come three days early. His knuckles rapped again to indicate it was time to move on.

The next stop was as familiar to him as the previous had been unfamiliar. He knew every inch of it. His grandfather’s townhouse in Grosvenor Square was situated on a corner, very smart, bright white with black trim. A servant admitted him from the back entrance, stealthily quiet and under shadow in the dark alley. Other than the occupants inside, who awaited him and would keep his secret, he didn’t want anyone to know that Jeremy Greymont had arrived in Town. Not yet at least.

* * * *

The wet drizzle prevented a walk along the shore, so Georgina opted to return to Hallborough for the day. The discomforts of pregnancy had Marianne resting anyway, and Georgina wanted to check on any correspondence that had arrived while she’d been gone. The note she left for Marianne promised her return by dinnertime.

She smiled down at Frisk, leaning into her on the carriage seat. He was just as good and smart as Mariah Rawles had praised him to be, and she didn’t have a single regret about taking him. He would grow into a magnificent dog when he reached his full size, and no doubt be an excellent companion for her. She stroked the soft waves of warm umber fur and thought about Jeremy.

The past three days at Stonewell with the Rourkes had been all right and she’d done her best to quell her growing unease, but self-doubt was definitely getting the upper hand. Jeremy had seemed so different the day he’d left for London. Granted, the time leading up to his departure had been awful with the death of the Rawles boy and then her memories returning of the attack. With his business in crisis—something about one of the ships fallen into piracy—she wondered if he’d had time even to write yet.

How could she have cringed from him like that? She cursed herself, wishing she could take that one night back. Jeremy had been aghast. She’d seen the stricken look on his face. Her fear had bewildered him until she told him why.

And that telling of the reason had been the very worst of all. Even though he had said he didn’t care about her past, she knew that he did care. It bothered him that another man had taken her, and she worried about what would happen now between them. Was he disgusted? Or was he wary because he figured she couldn’t bear his touch when he wanted her in that wildly passionate, desperate way of his?

Georgina didn’t know exactly what Jeremy was feeling, but she did know they hadn’t made love since that night. He’d slept in the same bed with her, but he hadn’t reached for her under the covers like he usually did, telling her how much he needed her and how beautiful she felt to him, the declarations of a lover. And this had her greatly worried.