if he didn’t know her.
Nothing could have prepared her for his betrayal. The despair she’d experienced from the duchess’s outrageous demand paled in significance to the heartbreak of Hastings’s defection. He didn’t love her. He’d failed to honor his promise of marriage, and left her alone to face ruin. His betrayal had cleaved her in two, taking her innocence forever.
How could she have been so wrong?
Like a thief in the night, she’d snuck from her chamber that very night to meet the carriage, leaving a note to her parents that could never explain, but which she hoped would soften the blow. There would be no engagement, she explained. She couldn’t bear to stay in Gloucestershire; she would return when the Hastings family left for town. Try not to worry. She went to visit a school friend. Make whatever excuses they deem necessary to avoid a scandal. She regretted the pain that her sudden departure might cause.
“Miss Prescott?”
Genie turned to find the porter standing beside her. She hadn’t missed the disdain in his tone. Even with a maid, an unmarried young woman traveling alone was highly suspect. She glanced down at her dark gray woolen traveling gown. An opportune solution popped into her mind. She thought for a moment then made a decision—eager to disappear for a while.
Maybe then she could forget.
“No. There must have been a mistake. My name is Mrs. Preston. I am a widow.”
CHAPTER SIX
Carlton House, June 19, 1811
It was so long ago, a lifetime really. Yet here he was, five years later, staring at her as if they’d never parted. He even had the gall to break out into that charming crooked grin she so remembered. His clearly elated reaction gave her a momentary jolt. Why did he look so happy to see her?
If she were that hopelessly romantic country girl again, she would say that he was staring at her as if he’d spent every day since the moment she left searching for her. As if he had never written her the hateful note that cruelly rejected every precious moment they’d spent together.
But Genie wasn’t that innocent young girl anymore. The heartbreak she’d experienced on the ship had been nothing compared to what had come after.
She shook off the memories and met his grin with a cool, haughty glare of disinterest. Some things were better left in the past.
Lord Fitzwilliam Hastings was one of them.
Genie had a future now. Edmund offered her everything she’d dreamed of with Hastings. This time, she would do whatever was necessary to protect her engagement.
A hand cupped her elbow. On cue, conjured from her very thoughts, Genie turned to find Edmund at her side.
His eyes locked on her, intently studying her face. “Are you well, my love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Transfixed, the man blinked repeatedly, not trusting the vision before him. But she wasn’t a ghost or a figment of his wishful imagination. She was hauntingly real.
Dear God, Genie . After years of fruitless searching, he couldn’t have been more shocked to find her here than if she’d walked up the stairs of Huntingdon House and casually knocked on the door.
And he’d nearly passed right by her. He’d been in a rush, knowing Prinny would be furious that he’d missed most of the big celebration, but he’d been unavoidably detained, called away at the last minute for an emergency at the bequest of a friend, who was currently out of the country on his behalf. He’d arrived at Carlton House in time to at least make an appearance, albeit a short one. At the last moment he happened to glance up. He’d frozen, rigid with shock.
Genie . It had to be her. He’d only seen eyes like that on one person. They were unforgettable. Big and round, framed by long dark lashes, set deep in her tiny heart-shaped face. They screamed out innocence and vulnerability. But it was the extraordinary color that truly startled: a flawless cobalt blue.
Everything else about her had changed. Gone were
Nothing could have prepared her for his betrayal. The despair she’d experienced from the duchess’s outrageous demand paled in significance to the heartbreak of Hastings’s defection. He didn’t love her. He’d failed to honor his promise of marriage, and left her alone to face ruin. His betrayal had cleaved her in two, taking her innocence forever.
How could she have been so wrong?
Like a thief in the night, she’d snuck from her chamber that very night to meet the carriage, leaving a note to her parents that could never explain, but which she hoped would soften the blow. There would be no engagement, she explained. She couldn’t bear to stay in Gloucestershire; she would return when the Hastings family left for town. Try not to worry. She went to visit a school friend. Make whatever excuses they deem necessary to avoid a scandal. She regretted the pain that her sudden departure might cause.
“Miss Prescott?”
Genie turned to find the porter standing beside her. She hadn’t missed the disdain in his tone. Even with a maid, an unmarried young woman traveling alone was highly suspect. She glanced down at her dark gray woolen traveling gown. An opportune solution popped into her mind. She thought for a moment then made a decision—eager to disappear for a while.
Maybe then she could forget.
“No. There must have been a mistake. My name is Mrs. Preston. I am a widow.”
CHAPTER SIX
Carlton House, June 19, 1811
It was so long ago, a lifetime really. Yet here he was, five years later, staring at her as if they’d never parted. He even had the gall to break out into that charming crooked grin she so remembered. His clearly elated reaction gave her a momentary jolt. Why did he look so happy to see her?
If she were that hopelessly romantic country girl again, she would say that he was staring at her as if he’d spent every day since the moment she left searching for her. As if he had never written her the hateful note that cruelly rejected every precious moment they’d spent together.
But Genie wasn’t that innocent young girl anymore. The heartbreak she’d experienced on the ship had been nothing compared to what had come after.
She shook off the memories and met his grin with a cool, haughty glare of disinterest. Some things were better left in the past.
Lord Fitzwilliam Hastings was one of them.
Genie had a future now. Edmund offered her everything she’d dreamed of with Hastings. This time, she would do whatever was necessary to protect her engagement.
A hand cupped her elbow. On cue, conjured from her very thoughts, Genie turned to find Edmund at her side.
His eyes locked on her, intently studying her face. “Are you well, my love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Transfixed, the man blinked repeatedly, not trusting the vision before him. But she wasn’t a ghost or a figment of his wishful imagination. She was hauntingly real.
Dear God, Genie . After years of fruitless searching, he couldn’t have been more shocked to find her here than if she’d walked up the stairs of Huntingdon House and casually knocked on the door.
And he’d nearly passed right by her. He’d been in a rush, knowing Prinny would be furious that he’d missed most of the big celebration, but he’d been unavoidably detained, called away at the last minute for an emergency at the bequest of a friend, who was currently out of the country on his behalf. He’d arrived at Carlton House in time to at least make an appearance, albeit a short one. At the last moment he happened to glance up. He’d frozen, rigid with shock.
Genie . It had to be her. He’d only seen eyes like that on one person. They were unforgettable. Big and round, framed by long dark lashes, set deep in her tiny heart-shaped face. They screamed out innocence and vulnerability. But it was the extraordinary color that truly startled: a flawless cobalt blue.
Everything else about her had changed. Gone were
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