The Unthinkable Read online

  Huntingdon flinched.

  “The ladies of the house nursed her cuts and bruises as best they could, but her spirit was crushed. For a long time, even after her injuries had healed, I didn’t think she was going to live. She’d lost the will of it.” Hawk studied him. “You have to understand. My heart broke to see a young girl—any girl—so brutally treated. I didn’t care who she was, I had to help her. I think I fell a little in love with her from the first time I saw her lying in that bed. She was like a little broken bird, so fragile, in such despair.” Hawk’s jaw hardened and took on a defiant tilt. “I would have done anything for her.”

  “But how?” Huntingdon asked incredulously. “How did she end up in a place like that? My mother sent her away with a small fortune.”

  Hawk’s expression turned cold and accusing. “After she lost the child Genie became very ill. While incapacitated, the maid your mother so graciously provided stole her money, fleeing the ship as soon as they docked. Genie arrived in America ill, destitute, and alone.”

  Huntingdon felt ill. Bile soured his mouth. His mind was spinning in thousands of directions. He wanted to lash out. To find answers that would explain the unexplainable. He’d wanted to know what she was hiding, but he’d never imagined anything like this.

  “But as for how she ended up there,” Hawk shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. I’ve never asked her the details. I know that she worked as a governess, but that it became impossible for her to continue. I have my suspicions about why.”

  But to sell herself in a brothel? There had to have been another choice. Anything other than that. How could she have…? His stomach rolled.

  He clenched his teeth together, holding back the bile. “Who beat her?”

  “She never told me. Believe me, I did my best to find out. I was most eager to take care of the matter.” Hawk gazed at him meaningfully. Huntingdon understood how “the matter” would have been handled. He felt the same way now—like he could kill the bastard. “But Genie said she didn’t know.”

  Another horrible thought crossed his mind. He leveled a long look at Hawk. “Did you…?”

  Hawk’s eyes blared with fury. He drew himself up stiffly, every inch the honorable English gentleman. “No.”

  Huntingdon knew he spoke the truth. Hawk would never take advantage of a damsel in distress. He, on the other hand…

  As if he knew what Huntingdon was thinking, Hawk explained. “She was hardly in any condition for that. It was many months before she’d recuperated enough for loving, and by then I knew I wanted her as my wife.”

  “But before you found her. Did she… had she?”

  “I don’t know.” And I don’t care. Huntingdon heard the unspoken censure. “Does it really matter?” Hawk asked.

  Yes, unfortunately, it did. He was not as generous a man as Hawk.

  Hawk must have read the answer on his face. He shook his head. “She was right then to tell you. You’ll not force a marriage upon her now. I assume this means you will step aside.”

  Huntingdon put up his hand. “Not so fast. I’ll hear the story from Genie first. Go. Rejoin your guests. I’ll be along directly.”

  He needed to compose himself. To give his shock and anger time to abate. Edmund looked like he wanted to say something more, but deciding against it, left Huntingdon to his thoughts.

  Suffocating in the small room heavy with emotion, he strode to the window. Fumbling with the latch, he managed to finally force it open. A cool breeze washed over him. He planted his hands on the wide sill and leaned out into the darkness, filling his lungs with long, deep breaths. The crisp air cooled the heat of his anger, but the twinkling stars seemed to taunt him with their celestial beauty. With their very purity.

  Could he take a woman as his wife who had sold herself?

  For the life of him, he didn’t know. His reaction to Hawk’s kiss had been visceral, extreme. What would the knowledge of her lying with another man, or God forbid, multiple men, do? Could he wipe the image from his mind?

  What had driven her to such perdition?

  Even if Genie had come to be in the brothel innocently—a hope that he clung to—if society found out she’d spent time in a house of ill repute, she’d be ruined. And he along with her. He hadn’t thought a scandal would matter, but then he’d never imagined something like this.

  A brothel. God in heaven, how had it happened?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  At times like this, Genie thought morosely, the obligations imposed by society seemed particularly onerous. Rather than taking refuge in the cathartic solitude of her bedchamber as she wished to do, she laughed and danced as if she did not have a care in the world. As if everything she’d fought to achieve did not hang in the balance.

  Looking at her, no one would ever know how dangerously close to the edge she hovered. How just one push might send her catapulting into darkness. She flirted harmlessly with her latest dance partner, a man old enough to be her father, executed the intricate dance steps with casual precision, and tried to keep her gaze from flickering back and forth to the entry. Her mouth ached from the effort to force a gay smile across her face. A smile that she hoped would mask the worry, and perhaps fear, clouding her eyes.

  Edmund had been gone for some time now. At any minute…

  Her dance partner stared at her expectantly.

  He’d said something and she hadn’t been listening.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Chester.” She swayed a little. “I feel a bit light-headed.”

  His weathered brow wrinkled with immediate concern, forgetting his unanswered question. “Allow me to find you a chair, my dear.”

  She gazed at him as if he was the most brilliant, most considerate man in the world. “That would be divine.”

  He ushered her to a cluster of armchairs in an adjoining room. Genie took out her fan and fluttered it furiously.

  “Is there anything I can get for you, my dear? Should I send for Lady Hawkesbury?”

  “No, no. I shall be fine in a moment. But if you wouldn’t mind, a glass of ratafia would be just the thing.”

  He hurried off to do her biding, eager to be of some use. Genie was grateful for the reprieve and for the moment of relative quiet. Aside from a handful of footmen, there were only a few people milling about and most seemed as eager as she to enjoy the solitude.

  He would be coming soon and she wanted to be prepared.

  But rather than Huntingdon, it was Fanny who found her first. Fanny, the girl who’d once giggled with her like a sister, but who now glared at her with something akin to hatred blaring in her lovely blue eyes. The constant none too gentle reproach was hard to take. She’d been doing her best to avoid Fanny, dreading this conversation nearly as much as Huntingdon’s. Indeed, this was the first time she’d spoken with Fanny since that unfortunate episode in the garden.

  “Where’s Lord Chester? I saw him bring you in here?” Fanny asked.

  “Fetching some refreshment.” Genie motioned to the chair next to her. “He should be some time, it’s quite crowded out there.”

  Fanny pulled the chair out and sat down. “Yes, Lady Hawkesbury’s annual ball is always popular. It’s become something of a tradition to mark the end of the season.”

  “So I see,” Genie replied. They sat in uncomfortable silence for some time. Taking in Fanny’s pale face, she asked quietly, “What is it Fanny? Is there something you want from me?”

  Tiny white lines appeared around Fanny’s mouth and brow. She met Genie’s gaze with a flat stare that wasn’t exactly a challenge, but more a look akin to betrayal. A look that made Genie distinctly uncomfortable.

  Fanny appeared to brace herself and without further preamble, she asked, “Are you going to marry Hawk?”

  There it was. How like Fanny to come right to the point, no delicate sidestepping around the subject for her. Having care for Fanny’s tender feelings, Genie said gently, “I’ve agreed to marry him, yes.”

  Fanny’s face crumpled and Genie�€