The Regency Season Collection: Part One. Кэрол Мортимер

But, as their earlier conversation had seemed to confirm that was not even a possibility, he could not help but question as to the reason why Georgianna had left the Countess of Evesham’s ball only minutes after he had done so himself. With the intent, it seemed, of following him here. With her brother’s full consent and co-operation, by the sound of it.

      His mouth tightened disapprovingly. ‘Jeffrey should have known better than to allow it.’

      ‘Jeffrey overheard part of our own conversation on the terrace earlier.’

      ‘I can see I shall have to have words with that young man regarding his habit of eavesdropping on private conversations.’ Zachary scowled.

      Georgianna shook her head. ‘He is far more mature and sensible than either of us have given him credit for,’ she assured drily. ‘But would you rather I left again, Zachary?’ She looked up at him searchingly.

      He drew a deep breath into his starved lungs as he realised he had forgotten to breathe. He allowed himself to indulge his senses where Georgianna was concerned, gazing upon her obvious beauty and the dewy perfection of her skin, that begged to be touched and tasted, and now breathing in her unique perfume— something floral as well as the unique and feminine warmth that was all Georgianna.

      ‘I would rather you had not come here at all,’ he maintained harshly, still making no effort to step aside and allow her entry to his study. It was his last bastion of defence, a place where he did not have any visible memories of being with Georgianna. Unlike his bedchamber upstairs. And the bedchamber adjoining that one. And the blue salon.

      Her chin rose determinedly. ‘I wished to continue our earlier conversation.’

      His jaw tightened. ‘And I believe we said then all that needs be said to each other.’

      Georgianna looked up at Zachary searchingly, as she easily noted his unkempt appearance. His hair was tousled, as if he had run his agitated fingers through it several times since returning home. The lines beside his eyes and mouth seemed deeper, his mouth set in a thin and uncompromising line, and there was a dark shadow upon his jaw, where he was obviously in need of a second shave of the day.

      Altogether, he looked nothing like the suave and sophisticated gentleman who had arrived at the Countess of Evesham’s ball earlier this evening.

      Because of the unsatisfactory outcome earlier of that conversation with her?

      That was what Georgianna was here to find out. And, having made that decision, she had no intentions of leaving here tonight until she had done so.

      ‘You know, Zachary, we both have scars that are visible to the eye if one cares to look for them.’ Her gaze softened as she reached up to gently touch the livid scar upon his throat, stubbornly maintaining that touch even when he would have flinched away. ‘But I, for one, have other scars, ones deep inside me, that are not at all visible to the naked eye.’ She smiled sadly. ‘They are the scars left by my unhappy experience at André’s hands. Of uncertainty. Of questioning my self-worth.’

      ‘The devil they are.’

      Georgianna nodded as Zachary scowled his displeasure at her admission. ‘Those scars make it difficult for me to believe that any man, any gentleman, could ever, would ever, want to be with me after— Zachary?’ she questioned sharply as he reached up to curl his fingers about her wrist before pulling her inside his candlelit study and closing the door firmly behind them. His eyes were a dark, unfathomable grey as he gazed down at her hungrily before his arms moved about her and he lowered his head to crush her lips beneath his own.

      It would have been so easy to lose herself in that kiss. For Georgianna to give in completely to the arousal which instantly thrummed through her body. To feel gratified, to revel, in this proof that Zachary still desired her, at least.

      But she could not. Dared not. Because she knew it would be all too easy to give in to those desires and for the two of them not to talk at all. And they needed the truth between the two of them, before, or if, there was to be any more lovemaking.

      Georgianna wrenched her mouth from beneath Zachary’s even as she pushed against his chest to free herself.

      His arms fell reluctantly away as he stepped back, his heavy lidded gaze now guarded. ‘I trust that answers your question as to whether or not you are wanted by me?’

      She drew in a shaky breath, even more determined, after Zachary’s show of passion, to say all the things she knew needed to be said between them. ‘I made a mistake last year, Zachary, one for which so many people have suffered.’

      ‘You most of all,’ he pointed out gruffly.

      She sighed equally as shakily. ‘I really was so very young, and even more foolish. I am ashamed to say that at the time I saw it all as a grand adventure, with no real thought for what the long-term consequences of my actions might be.’

      ‘Except to escape being married to me,’ Zachary reminded drily.

      ‘Yes.’ Georgianna’s gaze now avoided meeting his, as she began to pace the rug before the warmth of the fireplace. ‘And now I have so many things to thank you for, Zachary.’

      His eyes widened. ‘What on earth...?’

      ‘I am so grateful for your own efforts, last year and now, to maintain my reputation in society,’ she continued determinedly. ‘So thankful that Jeffrey has had you to help him through these trying months since our father died. And...’ she looked up at him helplessly ‘...and, yes, I am more gratified than I have cared to admit, until now, that you have helped rid the world of a monster such as André Rousseau.’ That last admission was against everything she had been brought up to believe in regard to the sanctity of human life.

      It was also, Georgianna now accepted, a large part of why she had been so angry with Zachary when he had informed her of André’s death. Because, having lived in fear of discovery by André these past few months, she had wanted him to be dead. Wished him so. And she had inwardly rejoiced yesterday when Zachary had told her André was indeed dead.

      It was a reaction, a rejoicing, of which she had felt heartily ashamed.

      But that shame and anger were directed towards herself, not Zachary. ‘I was ashamed to admit it until now,’ she admitted huskily.

      ‘But you loved him. Love him still, damn it.’

      Her eyes widened. ‘I most certainly do not. I...’ She paused, chewing briefly on her bottom lip before continuing. ‘I fear I have been less than honest, with myself, and with you, on that matter.’

      Zachary gave a grimace. ‘Your reaction yesterday, your distress, were evidence enough of how you felt. That you still had feelings for the man,’ he added harshly.

      ‘No,’ Georgianna denied vehemently. ‘Never that. Never,’ she repeated with a shudder of revulsion. ‘The truth of the matter is—I realised some time ago—Zachary, I do not believe I was ever truly in love with André.’ She gave a pained grimace at the admission. ‘I was very naïve, flattered by his attentions and desperate to escape a loveless marriage and, I now know, in love with love rather than André himself.’

      Zachary stared at her searchingly for long, tense moments, before turning abruptly to cross the room and seat himself behind his imposing mahogany desk. That she had not loved Rousseau after all was no reason to suppose, to hope, she would ever love him.

      ‘I am gratified to you—’ he nodded ‘—for allowing me to know that Rousseau’s death has not succeeded in breaking your heart, as I previously believed it to have done.’

      Georgianna could hear the but in his voice.

      But the admission made no difference to the outcome of their own conversation, perhaps?

      Whether or not that was true, Georgianna had no intentions of leaving here tonight without there being complete honesty between herself and Zachary. After which, fate, or rather Zachary, could do with her what it would. ‘Are you not interested to know how it is I