realize how much of one.
Though he might not have intended to, he’d acted the cad. He offered no excuse for his conduct. The fault was his. But he was no longer the unreliable, carefree young man. Circumstances had forced him to change.
And now that he’d found her, he’d have the chance to atone for his sins. Finally, he could begin to chip away at the block of guilt and regret that had been strapped across his shoulders since she’d left.
He started toward her, a broad, benevolent smile on his face.
Before he could reach her, a man moved protectively to her side, halting him dead in his tracks. There was something possessive about the movement that made his blood run cold.
But only for a minute. When he realized who stood before him, he nearly sighed with relief. Pushing aside the moment of unease, he chuckled at his foolishness. It was only Hawk. His best friend. The very man he’d sent to find her.
Strange that Hawk hadn’t notified him of his return. No matter. He owed Hawk a debt that he could never repay. How could he ever thank him? For Hawk had traveled half the world to find the girl who’d haunted his memories. The girl he could never forget.
Genie gazed fondly at Edmund. He’d said that she looked as though she’d seen a ghost. One corner of her mouth lifted with the barest hint of amusement. His heartfelt concern warmed the dank chill in her heart. She’d exchanged a frog for a true knight. “In a way, I suppose I have,” she said wryly.
Edmund followed the direction of her gaze and flinched, immediately dropping her arm. The blood rushed from his face. No doubt from her reaction, he realized who the man must be.
But there was something else. Something was very wrong. Edmund was staring at Hastings and he couldn’t look away. He looked guilty—almost ashamed. “Edmund?” She clutched his arm, shaking him. She hesitated. “Do you know him?” Genuine fear laced her voice.
“Edmund?” Hastings repeated incredulously. Her use of Edmund’s given name rather than his title had alerted him to the intimacy between them. Among peers, given names were rarely used—usually by siblings. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that Genie had never called Hastings “Fitzwilliam.” The divide had always been there between them, even if she hadn’t recognized it.
She ignored Hastings and turned to Edmund. Her question seemed to have snapped him out of his trance. His gaze drifted down to her, anxiety etched across his handsome features. “We’ve been friends for years. We were at Eton and Oxford together.”
“You never told her?” Hastings demanded.
“Told me what?” Genie’s brow creased with worry. She braced herself, instinctively knowing that she would not like his answer. But Edmund ignored her and turned back to Hastings.
He bowed. “Now is not the time to discuss this, Your Grace.”
Bewildered, Genie rounded on Edmund. “Your Grace?” she echoed dumbfounded.
Edmund hesitated. “Mrs. Preston, may I present the 12th Duke of Huntingdon.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off with disbelief.
His voice replied. “A carriage accident three years ago. Both my father and Henry.” The husky honey-filled voice that sent chills down her spine had deepened to a sinful dark molten chocolate. The memories of his voice sent a feathery twinge across her heartstrings. The haunting voice of her past stirred up the buried memories. At one time she’d have given her life to hear that voice again.
“I’m sorry,” she offered unthinkingly. Loudoun dead? It was unthinkable, all that youthful vitality snuffed out.
He acknowledged her condolence with a shrug. “It was a horrible shock to us all. My mother most of all; she is quite changed. She has quite forsaken town society and resides permanently in the country now.”
The mere mention of his mother acted like a bucket of icy water, dousing all thoughts of sympathy. She schooled her features into the blank emotionless wall that
Though he might not have intended to, he’d acted the cad. He offered no excuse for his conduct. The fault was his. But he was no longer the unreliable, carefree young man. Circumstances had forced him to change.
And now that he’d found her, he’d have the chance to atone for his sins. Finally, he could begin to chip away at the block of guilt and regret that had been strapped across his shoulders since she’d left.
He started toward her, a broad, benevolent smile on his face.
Before he could reach her, a man moved protectively to her side, halting him dead in his tracks. There was something possessive about the movement that made his blood run cold.
But only for a minute. When he realized who stood before him, he nearly sighed with relief. Pushing aside the moment of unease, he chuckled at his foolishness. It was only Hawk. His best friend. The very man he’d sent to find her.
Strange that Hawk hadn’t notified him of his return. No matter. He owed Hawk a debt that he could never repay. How could he ever thank him? For Hawk had traveled half the world to find the girl who’d haunted his memories. The girl he could never forget.
Genie gazed fondly at Edmund. He’d said that she looked as though she’d seen a ghost. One corner of her mouth lifted with the barest hint of amusement. His heartfelt concern warmed the dank chill in her heart. She’d exchanged a frog for a true knight. “In a way, I suppose I have,” she said wryly.
Edmund followed the direction of her gaze and flinched, immediately dropping her arm. The blood rushed from his face. No doubt from her reaction, he realized who the man must be.
But there was something else. Something was very wrong. Edmund was staring at Hastings and he couldn’t look away. He looked guilty—almost ashamed. “Edmund?” She clutched his arm, shaking him. She hesitated. “Do you know him?” Genuine fear laced her voice.
“Edmund?” Hastings repeated incredulously. Her use of Edmund’s given name rather than his title had alerted him to the intimacy between them. Among peers, given names were rarely used—usually by siblings. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that Genie had never called Hastings “Fitzwilliam.” The divide had always been there between them, even if she hadn’t recognized it.
She ignored Hastings and turned to Edmund. Her question seemed to have snapped him out of his trance. His gaze drifted down to her, anxiety etched across his handsome features. “We’ve been friends for years. We were at Eton and Oxford together.”
“You never told her?” Hastings demanded.
“Told me what?” Genie’s brow creased with worry. She braced herself, instinctively knowing that she would not like his answer. But Edmund ignored her and turned back to Hastings.
He bowed. “Now is not the time to discuss this, Your Grace.”
Bewildered, Genie rounded on Edmund. “Your Grace?” she echoed dumbfounded.
Edmund hesitated. “Mrs. Preston, may I present the 12th Duke of Huntingdon.”
“But…” Her voice trailed off with disbelief.
His voice replied. “A carriage accident three years ago. Both my father and Henry.” The husky honey-filled voice that sent chills down her spine had deepened to a sinful dark molten chocolate. The memories of his voice sent a feathery twinge across her heartstrings. The haunting voice of her past stirred up the buried memories. At one time she’d have given her life to hear that voice again.
“I’m sorry,” she offered unthinkingly. Loudoun dead? It was unthinkable, all that youthful vitality snuffed out.
He acknowledged her condolence with a shrug. “It was a horrible shock to us all. My mother most of all; she is quite changed. She has quite forsaken town society and resides permanently in the country now.”
The mere mention of his mother acted like a bucket of icy water, dousing all thoughts of sympathy. She schooled her features into the blank emotionless wall that
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