The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

was, as it is rumoured, inflicted by a French sabre?’ She was barely able to suppress a shiver.

      Zachary’s humour faded, his expression darkening as he ran his fingertips along the six-inch length of the scar. It had been with him for so long now that he rarely thought about it any more. Or the effect it might have upon others. Upon Georgianna. ‘You find it repulsive?’

      ‘I find the idea of the violence behind it repulsive, yes,’ she answered him carefully.

      ‘Indeed?’ he rasped.

      ‘I did not mean you any insult,’ Georgianna assured hastily. ‘I—I am sure we all have our scars to bear, some more openly than others.’ Her gaze moved to the fireplace as she picked up her glass and took a sip of her wine.

      ‘Do you?’ Zachary continued to study her profile through narrowed lids.

      She straightened her spine but continued to look towards the fireplace rather than at him. ‘Of course. How can I not after the events of this past year?’

      ‘Tell me where you have been these past nine months, Georgianna?’ he prompted softly.

      She gave a start—a guilty one?—as she now looked down at the food in front of her, as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Should we not eat our soup before it becomes cold?’

      ‘By all means.’ Zachary nodded. ‘But there is no reason why we cannot continue talking as we eat,’ he added once Georgianna had raised the spoon to her lips. A spoon that shook precariously as her hand began to tremble, until she placed it carefully back beside the soup bowl. ‘What are you hiding, Georgianna?’ Zachary demanded sharply as he saw that nervousness.

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Do not lie to me, Georgianna.’

      She drew in a ragged breath as she now looked down at the tablecloth. ‘I am not hiding anything. Or rather, I am hiding, but it is not from a what but a who,’ she continued so softly it was difficult for Zachary to hear her.

      ‘Who?’

      Her eyes closed. ‘Rousseau, of course.’

      ‘Why?’

      She gave another involuntary shudder. ‘Because I fear what he would do if he were to ever find me again.’

      Zachary had absolutely no doubt that Georgianna’s fear was real. He could feel it in the tension of the air surrounding them. As he could see it, in the trembling of Georgianna’s body and the quivering of her lips. ‘What do you have to fear from that, Georgianna?’ he prompted gruffly.

      ‘What do you care?’ She turned on him fiercely, two spots of angry colour in her cheeks. ‘You have not believed a single word I have said to you so far today, so why should you think I might now bare my soul to you? Just so that you might have the pleasure of ridiculing me again?’

      She had a point, Zachary conceded impatiently. But could she not see how difficult it was for him to believe the things she had told him, a woman who had eloped with a known French spy?

      Except it had not been confirmed that Rousseau was a spy when Georgianna eloped with him, that certain knowledge only having come later, he reminded himself.

      ‘This conversation is not at all conducive to our digestion.’ She gave a weary shake of her head. ‘Perhaps it would be best if you were to lock me back in the bedchamber.’

      ‘You have to eat, Georgianna, or you will starve yourself to death.’ Zachary scowled.

      Her laugh sounded bitter. ‘I am harder to kill than you might imagine!’

      He was taken aback by the vehemence of her tone. ‘What?’

      ‘How went your friend’s wedding today?’ Once again she avoided answering his question.

      The whole conversation of this past half an hour had resembled that of a sword fight, Zachary realised irritably. He would thrust. Georgianna would parry. Georgianna would thrust. He would then parry. It was frustrating, to say the least.

      But her question as to how Worthing’s wedding had proceeded earlier today brought forth memories of the love and pride that shone in Worthing’s face as he turned to watch his beautiful bride walk down the aisle towards him. Of that same love and pride shining in Julianna’s eyes as she walked without hesitation to join her handsome bridegroom at the altar, before they spoke their vows to each other. Declaring loudly and clearly, sincerely, to love and to cherish each other from this day forward.

      A bittersweet reminder to Zachary that he could never hope to have that love and devotion bestowed upon him.

      And bringing into sharp contrast the wedding which should have taken place the previous year. Between a bridegroom who was only marrying because he was in need of a wife to provide his heir and to retain his fortune. And the young and romantic woman who had feared her bridegroom so much she had eloped with another man.

      Zachary looked at that young woman now, once again acknowledging that he was partly, if not wholly, to blame for Georgianna having run away from her family and her home.

      And for the things that had happened to her since.

      Whatever they might be.

      Whatever they might be?

      He drew his breath in sharply. ‘I believe I owe you an apology, Georgianna.’

      She gave him a startled glance. ‘I don’t...?’

      ‘For the manner of my proposal to you last year,’ Zachary continued grimly. ‘Worthing’s wedding today made me see that I was unfair to you then. That I should never have spoken to your father regarding a marriage between you and I before we knew each other better.’

      ‘We did not know each other at all!’

      He nodded. ‘And for that I apologise.’

      Georgianna stared up at him wordlessly for several seconds, those violet-coloured eyes searching his face. ‘Do not be kind to me, Zachary, please,’ she finally choked out. ‘I believe I can bear anything but your kindness.’ She stood up to cross the room on slippered feet, coming to a halt beside the fireplace, her head bowed, revealing the vulnerable arch of her nape.

      Zachary rose more slowly to his feet, more inwardly pleased than he cared to contemplate, at hearing Georgianna use his name for the first time.

      He crossed the room silently until he stood just behind her, not quite touching, but enough to feel the warmth of her body just inches away. ‘My actions then were selfish and totally without thought for how you might have felt in regard to marrying me. For that I am deeply sorry.’ His apology still sounded awkward. As evidence, perhaps, that it did not come easily to him?

      As it did not. Zachary was unable to remember the last time he had apologised to anyone for anything he had said or done.

      Georgianna’s shoulders moved as she sobbed quietly. ‘It does not matter any more, Zachary.’

      He reached out to lightly grasp the tops of her arms. ‘It does matter if it forced you into unnecessary anger towards your father and consequently into a course of action you might otherwise not have taken—’ He broke off as the door opened quietly and Hinds stood uncertainly in the doorway. ‘I will ring when I need you.’ Zachary dismissed him grimly, waiting until the butler had left again before resuming the conversation. ‘Is that what happened, Georgianna? Was it my selfishness that pushed you into taking the step of defying your father, leaving your family, and eloping with Rousseau?’

      ‘What does it matter?’ She shook her head. ‘What is done cannot now be undone.’

      ‘Georgianna.’ His hands slid down the length of her arms until he clasped the bareness of both her hands in his. ‘What the—?’ Zachary turned her to face him before looking down to where he held her hands palms up in both of his, noting how red and roughened the skin was, with several calluses at the base of her fingers on both hands.

      Georgianna