The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

subject. Living in the attic of the Fleur de Lis paled into insignificance when she considered the other dangers she had faced during those months in France. ‘Mademoiselle Rousseau allowed me to stay there as part of my payment.’

      ‘So that you might entertain men there?’

      Georgianna gasped in shock. ‘ Of course not! How dare you imply—?’ She broke off as Hawksmere took a painful grasp of the tops of her arms, his face tight with anger as he towered over her.

      ‘I was employed as a kitchen maid, not a whore, Hawksmere.’

      ‘I very much doubt that the men who frequented the tavern were capable of making that distinction.’ he said scornfully.

      She frowned. ‘You are obviously more familiar with the practises of such places than I.’

      His hands tightened painfully as he shook her. ‘It is not a question of what I am familiar with.’

      ‘Is it not?’ Georgianna challenged scathingly. ‘I worked in the kitchen of the tavern, Hawksmere,’ she maintained firmly. ‘And that is all I did.’ She looked up at him defiantly.

      Zachary looked down at her searchingly, seeing the challenge glittering in those violet-coloured eyes, the unmistakable pride in the tilt of her chin, indignation in the stiffness of her body. As proof of her innocence? In regard to the months she had spent working at the tavern, perhaps; the weeks she had spent as Rousseau’s mistress were a different matter entirely.

      ‘What more is it going to take for you to trust me, Zachary?’ She looked up at him with pained eyes. ‘You now have information that confirms Napoleon is to leave Elba, if he has not already done so. What more do you need from me to be convinced that I have told you nothing but the truth since we met again yesterday?’

      His jaw tightened. ‘You have yet to tell me how you escaped from Rousseau once your association was over.’

      Her gaze avoided meeting his. ‘Is that really necessary?’

      ‘It is if you truly wish for me to trust you.’

      She moistened dry lips. ‘And if I tell you, will you then consider allowing me to leave this house at the same time you do?’

      ‘To go where?’

      ‘Anywhere I am not a prisoner.’

      ‘I will consider the idea, yes,’ he bit out tautly.

      ‘That is not good enough.’

      ‘It is all the concession I am willing to make at this point.’

      Georgianna stared up at Hawksmere’s hard and unyielding expression, his eyes that glittering remorseless silver. As evidence that he would not relent without that last irrefutable proof from her as to her innocence.

      She had hoped to spare herself this final humiliation, but saw now that it was not to be, that the time for such prevarication was now at an end.

      ‘Release my arms, if you please,’ she instructed softly.

      Zachary looked down at her searchingly for several long seconds before his fingers slowly loosened, his hands dropping back to his sides as he took a step back.

      Georgianna averted her gaze from meeting his own, her hands shaking as she raised them to the neckline of her black gown, fingers fumbling as she began to unfasten the tiny buttons.

      ‘Georgianna, I do not have the time now to finish what we started earlier,’ Hawksmere dismissed impatiently. ‘Nor will you succeed in distracting me by attempting to seduce me,’ he added scathingly.

      ‘You are arrogance personified.’ Georgianna’s fingers paused on the buttons of her gown as she gave him a pitying glance. ‘I have absolutely no intentions of distracting or attempting to seduce you.’

      He raised dark brows. ‘Then why are you unfastening your gown?’

      She sighed heavily. ‘Because it is the only way I know of to show you how I escaped from Rousseau.’

      ‘I do not see how the unfastening of your gown will help convince me of anything.’

      ‘Will you please cease your sarcasm for just a few moments, Hawksmere?’ Georgianna’s voice shook with emotion, her vision blurred by unshed tears as she looked up at him. ‘I cannot—’ She bit her bottom lip as she gave a shake of her head. ‘I believe if I have to suffer another one of your insults then I might begin to scream and never stop.’

      Zachary could see that by the strained expression on Georgianna’s face. Her eyes were a dark purple and shimmering with tears, her cheeks pale and hollow, all the colour seeming to have drained even from the fullness of her lips. She was seriously distressed. Enough to scream? He believed so, yes.

      ‘In that case, please continue,’ he invited in a bored voice as he moved to slowly lower his length comfortably down on to the chair placed in front of the dressing table.

      Her eyes narrowed as she glared across at him. ‘I only intend to unfasten a few buttons of my gown, Hawksmere, not provide a striptease show with you as the audience.’

      ‘That is a pity,’ he drawled as he crossed one elegant leg over the other.

      Georgianna closed her eyes briefly in an attempt to dig deep inside herself for the courage needed for her to continue along this course.

      Not an easy feat when Hawksmere continued to treat her with such disdain. Nor was there any guarantee, having literally bared her scarred soul to him, that he would dispense once and for all with the distrust with which he continued to treat her.

      But she had to at least try.

      Her fingers trembled even more than before as she recommenced unfastening the buttons down the bodice of her gown, causing her to fumble several times before the last button was finally unfastened.

      She hesitated, holding the two sides of her gown together, as she forced herself to look across at Hawksmere. ‘Please attempt to hold your derision and scorn at bay, if only for a few minutes, if you please, Hawksmere.’ Her voice shook with emotion.

      Zachary frowned as he looked across at her searchingly, having no idea what it was that Georgianna was hiding from him. He was nevertheless aware that, whatever it was, it affected her deeply. ‘Show me,’ he encouraged gruffly, shoulders tensed.

      Georgianna kept her eyes closed, her lips clamped firmly together, as she slowly parted the two sides of her gown before her fingers pulled down the soft material of her camisole, fully exposing her breasts to him.

      It was impossible for Zachary to hold back his sharply indrawn breath as he saw the discoloured and livid scar between the swell of Georgianna’s breasts for the first time.

      Even from across the room he could see that the redness of the puckered and scarred skin now exposed to him was recent and several inches around. It was the same type of wound and scarring he had unfortunately seen many times during his years of battle against Napoleon’s armies.

      His gaze moved sharply back up to the pallor of Georgianna’s face. Her eyes were once again open as she looked back at him with a flat and unemotional expression. He moistened lips that had gone suddenly dry.

      ‘Is that...?’

      ‘The result of a bullet wound?’ Georgianna finished dully. ‘Yes, it is.’

      Zachary stood up, too restless, too disturbed by what he was seeing to remain seated for a moment longer. He crossed the room in long strides before gently pushing her fingers out of the way so that he might better see the livid red scar. ‘How is it you did not die from such a wound?’

      She gave an emotionally choked laugh. ‘As it was so obviously intended that I should?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘How typical of you, Hawksmere, to cut straight to the point.’ She looked up at him coldly. ‘It was pure chance that I did not die, that the force of the bullet