The Unthinkable Read online

  She’d betrayed him. She yearned to run and hide so she wouldn’t have to witness the humiliation on that proud, handsome face.

  “The Duke and Duchess of Huntingdon.” Too late to run. The announcement of their arrival rang out, reverberating like a pistol shot across the ballroom. The large, boisterous crowd quieted. Hundreds of faces turned in their direction.

  The sudden appalled silence signaled society’s condemnation.

  The whispering and sly glances began almost immediately.

  “Courage, love,” Huntingdon said under his breath, but Genie could hear the strain in his voice. Clearly, it was worse than he’d expected.

  She forced a brittle smile on her face and straightened her back. She’d survived worse. She owed it to Huntingdon to hold her head high. She’d made mistakes, done things of which she was not proud, but who were these people to spurn her? She didn’t care what they thought of her.

  Her heart sank.

  But Huntingdon did. These were his peers. He’d fought hard to establish a name for himself after his father and brother died. With one misguided letter, she’d destroyed him.

  The evening was more horrible than she could’ve imagined. Though not cut directly, the none-too-subtle looking the other way as they passed was just as effective. The only people who dared to venture into conversation with them were Edmund, Lady Hawkesbury, and the Davenports.

  Their pity was nearly as difficult to take.

  Huntingdon pretended as if he didn’t notice, but Genie could tell that the rejection was killing him—especially that by his political cronies. People he considered his friends. Nonetheless, only one time did his expression slip and the rage and humiliation break through—when a gloating Percy mockingly saluted him from across the room.

  Guilt suffocated her. Genie didn’t know how much longer she could stand there at his side, feigning virtuousness, when the enormity of what she’d done hit her full force in the cut of every blank stare. Gazes slipped over them as if they weren’t even there.

  The night seemed endless. The torture of invisibility ended three agonizing hours later when they could finally take their leave.

  Huntingdon was painfully quiet on the short carriage ride back to Huntingdon House. His silence only increased the weight of her guilt. Dread had swallowed her whole. Anxiously, Genie prepared herself for the worst. For his rejection.

  This was what she’d wanted. To humiliate him in front of his peers, to exact the perfect revenge. An eye for an eye. For forcing her to marry him, for the pain of his betrayal, she’d thought to ruin the precious social standing that had prevented him from marrying her all those years ago. Then he’d divorce her and she’d still have everything she wanted: wealth and property.

  What had seemed so perfect when viewed through the dark blinders of vengeance now seemed petty and cruel. In her pain, she’d lashed out and hurt the man she loved. For tonight, at the very moment when she’d destroyed him, she realized the tragic truth. She loved him.

  But it was too late. She’d ruined him. He would never forgive her.

  If only she’d realized her feelings sooner. But her love felt so different. Before, she’d fallen in love with a handsome face and a fairy tale. This time, it had been more gradual. Not love at first sight, but a gentle awakening based on understanding. She loved him for the man he’d become: the duke who was responsible for seven estates and four younger siblings, the husband who had shown her nothing but thoughtfulness and kindness these past few weeks, who loved her despite the fact that he thought she’d sold herself, and the youth who’d not forgotten her—who’d searched for her for years and kept a small piece of ratty ribbon to remember the first day they made love. The enormity of her emotion stunned her.

  But love wouldn’t matter when he discovered her perfidy.

  When the carriage finally pulled up to Huntingdon House, Genie was twisted into a tight bundle of nerves. Tension knit the muscles in her neck and back. Rigidly, she exited the carriage and followed Huntingdon into the townhouse.

  In the entrance hall, Huntingdon finally looked at her. His face looked drained and tired. Tiny lines appeared around his mouth and eyes. The strain of tonight had seemingly aged him.

  The dull ache in her chest twisted.

  One side of his mouth lifted into some semblance of a smile. “I think we could both use a drink.”

  She nodded and followed him into the drawing room. She sat stiffly on a velvet-cushioned sofa while he went to the sideboard to fix their drinks. “Here, something a little stronger than Madeira.” Genie glanced at the snifter he’d handed her filled with an amber liquid. She took a sip and shuddered. Her throat burned. Whisky, not brandy. Grimacing, she forced herself to take another sip, allowing the smoky brew to work its dulling magic.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

  Huntingdon sat beside her and took her hand in his. “Don’t apologize. I don’t blame you.”

  Emotion thickened her voice. “It was horrible.”

  His thumb gently massaged the top skin of her hand. “I never should have brought you tonight. It’s my fault. I was arrogant. I thought I was above salacious gossip.” He shook his head. “My mother was right, I should have listened to her.”

  Her chest burned with shame. He was trying to shoulder the blame when she was the one responsible. How could she have thought he lacked honor?

  His gaze flickered over her face and his brows wrinkled with concern. He gathered her in his arms and gently kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry. The worst is over. We’ll go to the country for a while until it blows over.”

  Genie felt like she was being torn apart. Her horror was complete. Again she’d presumed wrongly. He wasn’t going to divorce her. He intended to stand by her.

  She couldn’t do this anymore. The emotion, the guilt that had been steadily building inside her all night finally exploded. “Stop it,” she cried, shooting to her feet. “Stop it.”

  Shocked by the violence of her outburst, he gaped at her.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.” Her voice shook.

  He controlled his surprise. “Of course I do,” he said calmly. “We’ll leave for Donnington and wait for the gossip to die down. It always does. Eventually.”

  “I’ve ruined your political ambitions.”

  “I told you, it’s not your fault. If I hadn’t failed you long ago none of this—”

  “But it is my fault,” she choked, a hot ball of salty tears lodged in her throat. “Don’t you see, I was the one.”

  His eyes narrowed. “The one?”

  She braced herself, ready for the blow. “I started the rumor.”

  “You? But why would you—?” Comprehension dawned. He recoiled, his eyes widened with horror. “Of course, how could I be so thickheaded? Revenge.”

  She couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t bear to see the condemnation in his eyes that had once looked at her so tenderly. With love.

  Please, take me in your arms. Hold me. Forgive me. But he did none of those things, just stared at her as if she’d ripped out his heart.

  “When.” His voice sounded harsh and empty. “When did you plan this?”

  Her hands twisted as she fought to control her panic. “Some time ago. When you made your original marriage proposal. But it wasn’t until you retracted your offer at Donnington and I thought that you were abandoning me again that I put my plan in motion. When I realized that I’d erred in judging your intentions, it was too late.” Emotion strangled her voice.

  “You planned your revenge well.”

  She flinched at the blow. Her control slipped. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. He was a cold, emotionless stranger again. “You must believe me. I would do anything to take it back,” she pleaded, but to no effect. He’d apparently heard enough.

  He stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m more tired than I realized. We will discuss what is to be done tomorrow.”

  The formality of his tone was pure ago