“Oh, then please enlighten me,” she said coldly. “I heard all of it, Nick, before I saw you in the hall that night at Sea Cliff.”
Nick took a deep breath. “And what did you hear, exactly?”
“That you tried to blackmail my father with my lapse of judgment on the beach. For money. Money you clearly don’t need. He died soon after. Pray tell me how my father displeased you, Your Grace, so that you would seek such revenge upon a man by ruining his daughter? Did he beat you at cards? Perhaps you just didn't like the way he tied his cravat. Surely, he must have done something terrible to earn the displeasure of the infamous Duke of Dunbar.” Her voice shook.
“I was not a duke when we met and—” Nick's mind raced with a plausible excuse for his behavior in Bermuda and could find none. “Do you really think I am capable of such a thing?”
“Sport. I was an amusement,Your Grace. What other reason could there be?”
Nick said nothing. Relieved as he was that she did not know the truth about her father, it still broke his heart to hear her assumptions of his character. That she could think he would use her after—”
“You can offer up no other reason, I see.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Certainly, ruining a virgin in the backwater of Bermuda buys one several rounds of drinks at White’s?” A caustic laugh escaped her lips. “Ruined. The good people of Hamilton gossiped that my father died because of my indiscretion with you. The knowledge killed him, you see.”
Her words cut into him, slicing him as deeply as if she wielded a blade.
“Those same good people called me a whore behind my back. They said I was crazy, driven mad by the fact I killed my father by spreading my legs.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “And then the Corbetts—Augie—he—” she stopped, wiping furiously at her face with the back of her sleeve.
“What did they do to you?” Her appearance in London began to make sense. She ran from marriage to Augustus Corbett. “The Corbetts are why you are presumed dead.” He could feel the anger, the unmitigated fury at Lord Corbett as it rolled through his body in waves. “Answer me.”
“It no longer matters, does it?”
“It matters to me.” He growled, taking her by the shoulders.
“It matters now only because I am here.” She tried to twist out of his hold. “Well, don't worry. I won't put a damper on your plans to marry my cousin, and I release you from any obligation you may feel towards me. I'll tell everyone that we met as you passed through Hamilton on your way to the islands further south. No one will ask any more. My family knows no one in Bermuda.” Her voice caught. “And no one misses me in Hamilton. I will say that you and I courted for a time but fell out. I will not,” her body shook with a sob, “stand in your way of marrying Petra.”
His hands slid down her arms. “There will be no match between myself and Petra, or anyone else for that matter. I want only you.”
She twisted away from him. “I wish to hear not one more word from your lying mouth. Everything about you is a lie. You are a lie.” She stepped back from him, her voice trembling.
“Jem.” He snatched at her, grabbing her to him and pressing her head to his chest. He took her chin in his hand, though she resisted, and forced her to look at him. Gently he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
“This is not a lie. What is between us is not a lie. I dream of you beneath me as you were on the beach.” He brushed her lips with his, feeling the familiar jolt of lightning between them.
“No.” She put her hands against his chest, and he allowed her to push him away. “I would not have you use me again for your own ends, whatever they may be.”
Hate me or not, she belongs to me.He weighed the thought of her hatred against the thought of Jem wed to another man and quickly disregarded any noble thought of letting her go.
“You are overwrought,” he said smoothly, hiding the pain of her rejection behind the mask of bored politeness that all thetonknew well. He deserved her wrath, her hatred.
“Yes, I believe I am,Your Grace.” She clasped her hands neatly before her, but her eyes looked daggers through him.
“We will speak later, when you have had time to consider our future.”
“Future? I don't believe there is anything more to discuss,Your Grace.”
“We most assuredly do have more to discuss as you will see. Make no mistake.” He left her then, her body tight and frozen like a statue. He shut the door, willing himself to move forward even as he heard her begin to weep and went to speak to Lord Marsh.
17
“My lady, another gift has arrived for you.”
Jemma frowned as she looked up from her tea to watch the butler lay a large box on the table next to her. A note accompanied by the Duke of Dunbar's calling card was tied to the top with a red velvet ribbon.
“Oh, do open it Jemma.” Petra clapped her hands in excitement, as if it were she, and not Jemma who was the recipient.
Carefully placing down her cup and saucer, she took the box to her lap. A fortnight had passed since finding out Nick was not Nick, but Petra's cursed duke, the Devil of Dunbar, a man all of London held in respectful fear.
Nick, for she found it difficult to think of him as His Grace, had taken to sending her gifts. Thoughtful gifts. Wonderful gifts. Each gift accompanied by an envelope which when opened revealed the nameJemwritten across the top in a bold masculine hand.
