The Unthinkable Read online

  No, it couldn’t be.

  But the truth dropped like a stone in her stomach.

  “Is that it?” she asked Edmund hesitantly, pointing to the hazy patch of white nestled amongst the stars, floating above a blanket of shadowed treetops.

  Edmund leaned forward to take a perfunctory look out the window and plopped back in his seat across from her. “That’s it. Donnington Park in all of its regal splendor.”

  Genie tried to swallow, a knot of alarm closing her throat. “Regal” was right. The place looked to be the size of a small palace. Of a small kingdom for that matter.

  And in a matter of days, she would be responsible for the smooth running of that kingdom.

  She would be a duchess.

  Genie knew a long moment of panic. The great divide between the household of a duke and that of a country parson widened considerably with the first glimpse of her new home. Reality in this case had surely overreached her ambition. How would she ever manage such a place?

  Yet wasn’t this exactly what she wanted: wealth, position, security. Why did she suddenly feel so overwhelmed when she’d achieved more than she’d ever dreamed possible? Why did she feel like such a fraud? Like perhaps the duchess had been right all those years ago: She and Huntingdon were from different worlds and entirely unsuitable. Uncertainty twisted her insides. Was she equipped to preside over a duchy?

  Fighting sudden queasiness, though unable to look away from the source, Genie kept her eyes glued out the window. Occasionally, she’d lose sight of the house as the carriage wound along the road, but slowly the blurred shape began to take solid form. With each passing minute her trepidation intensified. She’d never imagined anything so grand, so imposing…

  So beautiful.

  She hadn’t realized just how much she would be forsaking. Or just how much Huntingdon had to lose.

  Edmund patted her hand. “You’ll be fine. It’s just a house.”

  She made a dainty snorting sound of disbelief. And Versailles was just a small French country manor.

  “Edmund’s right,” Lady Hawkesbury interjected. “Managing a household is much the same be it small or large. The duchess will be able to instruct you in all the particulars.”

  Genie stiffened at the mention of the duchess and straightened against the plush velvet cushions, which at the beginning of their journey had been comfortable.

  The Duchess of Huntingdon no longer intimidated her. She’s survived much worse. Heartbreak, the death of her child, poverty, near starvation, the vicious attack of a vile man.

  One cruel, haughty duchess would not stand in her way.

  Edmund and Lady Hawkesbury were right. She could do this. For a short time anyway. This was what she’d fought for. With the help of a solicitor she’d already found a property in Gloucestershire just outside of Thornbury. She only needed to get through the ceremony and it would be hers. Nothing and no one would ever be able to take it from her—no matter what happened or what secrets were revealed in the future. Security had been ripped from her fingers before, this time she held a firm grip on her future.

  “Oh look, dearest,” Lady Hawkesbury said, pointing out the window. “Your bridegroom rides out to greet us. And at this late hour!”

  Genie’s pulse raced. Fighting the urge to look, she pinned her shoulders back against the cushions. Dear God, she was excited to see him. Like some lovesick fool.

  Lady Hawkesbury squinted into the darkness. “My, he’s riding fast.” She turned to give Genie a sly wink. “I guess you’re not the only one who is anxious.” Her brow wrinkled. “Hmm. Perhaps we should have sent someone ahead explaining our delay? It took so much longer than we expected. Well, I do hope the dear boy hasn’t been worried.”

  Ha! Genie thought contemptuously. The uncaring beast probably hadn’t spared her a thought for weeks.

  The dark silhouette of a rider appeared on the opposite side of the carriage, and Genie didn’t need a torch to see that Lady Hawkesbury had identified the horseman correctly. The broad shoulders and muscular physique were unmistakable.

  “Ho there.” The familiar voice rang with authority. “Stop your horses, man.”

  Genie lurched forward as the carriage clattered to a bumpy stop.

  “You there,” he ordered brusquely, “open the door.”

  The carriage tipped again as the groomsman jumped to obey the duke’s command and hopped down from his perch. The door was thrown open and Huntingdon came into full view. She tried not to stare, but her eyes seemed to have a will of their own. Astride a huge black horse, cloaked in a dark cape, his hair shimmered like a bright beacon across a moon-drenched sea.

  He dismounted and approached the coach, motioning for one of the servants who accompanied him to move closer with a torch. The flames cast jagged shadows across his face as he carefully inspected the occupants of the carriage.

  Edmund and Lady Hawkesbury leaned forward to investigate and blocked her view.

  “Where is she?” Huntingdon boomed.

  Genie pursed her brows, he was behaving quite oddly. Why did he sound so fierce? This was more than a simple welcome. He was upset about something. Was he angry with her?

  “Now what’s this all about, Huntingdon?” Edmund asked.

  “Where is she?” Huntingdon repeated, ignoring the question. Something else laced his voice. Something that sounded like fear, or desperation. “Where’s Genie,” he croaked.

  “I’m right here,” Genie said, wedging her body into view.

  Their eyes met. Her breath caught and she nearly gasped aloud. His gaze held hers with such tortured intensity, she could not break away. His eyes raked her face, drinking in every detail until he seemed to almost sag with relief. Clearly, he’d been worried about her. But why?

  “You’re well?” He spoke to her directly, as if Edmund and Lady Hawkesbury were not sitting there gawking.

  “Quite well,” Genie assured him gently, responding immediately to his distress.

  The white flash of a grin broke across his features and Genie felt her heart tumble. He appeared so genuinely happy and relieved that Genie couldn’t help but be moved.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, both smiling, the connection between them taut and strong. The walls of distrust, built on disappointment and betrayal, for a short time forgotten. Genie thought that if Lady Hawkesbury and Edmund had not been blocking the way, he might have pulled her into his arms. For an instant, she fought the urge to rush into them.

  The coachman cleared his throat, breaking the spell. All at once, Huntingdon recovered himself, he raised his gaze from hers and his expression shuttered.

  He turned to Lady Hawkesbury. “Your journey is near an end, my lady. I welcome you to Donnington Park. If you’ll excuse me, I shall receive you properly at the house.” He looked up to the coachman. “Drive on.” Then, with a bow and a rakish flourish he rode off into the night. Genie’s gaze followed him until he slipped out of view.

  “Oh, my! Now wasn’t that the strangest thing?” Lady Hawkesbury murmured. “Whatever is the matter with the boy?”

  Genie didn’t know. But as Lady Hawkesbury did not seem to expect an answer, she slid back into the shadows and welcomed the obscuring sounds of the coach as it resumed its journey. Whatever had happened, it had been significant enough to put a large crack in his armor of indifference. He’d been worried about her, worried enough not to care who knew it. There was a rawness to the emotion that Genie wanted to hold on to, and never let go.

  Huntingdon’s sudden appearance and equally sudden departure had left Genie in a tangle of emotion. Why did her pulse still race and her chest still ache? Why did her heart leap in her chest and the heaviness that had weighed upon her the last few days suddenly lighten? Why was she so unabashedly happy?

  These were not questions that Genie was prepared to answer. Not now. Not ever.

  Edmund watched Genie’s face and felt disappointment burn in his chest. He recognized the complex emotions that crossed he