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Right before she had said the words that broke his heart, he’d felt the coldness of dread seize that beating muscle which gave him life, felt it turn brittle, so that when he did hear those terrible words, it just splintered all apart in an instant. Like an icicle dropping onto a rock and shattering into oblivion, as if it had never been, at one time, whole and shimmering.
His chest ached. He felt sure there must be a blade still embedded there after slicing him open, slowly being turned to ensure a maximum degree of suffering. He knew the need to lash out at something.
Georgina fled the room first, a desperate attempt to hold on to her composure for dignity’s sake, her final words to him being, “I am so sorry, Jeremy. Forgive me.” And then she turned away. Turned from him and was gone.
Mr. Russell followed his daughter out, having the grace to look shamed for his duplicity as he departed.
The keening of the library door closing on its hinge screamed through the silence of the cold room. But even the chill of the room could not compare to the coldness in his heart right now.
Being so close to getting what he desired and having it snatched away was cruel.
I cannot marry her. She will never be mine. I’ll never hold her in my arms or sleep with her or be inside her. I’ll not touch her body or kiss her or make any babies with her.
His body gulped in some breath, and he dropped to a chair, his legs unwilling to hold him up. Jeremy couldn’t believe it. Georgina was supposed to be the girl for a libertine rip like him. He’d found her amid the bleak matrimonial landscape he thought never to make much sense of, let alone have to wade through. She was good and beautiful a
nd gentle, but not weak. She’d have tamed him, made him decent, an upstanding citizen, worthy of respect. She’d been his miracle. Perfect.
No. He gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. His image of her had been perfect, not her. Georgina was flawed just like everyone else. Now he knew why the girl he remembered from long ago was so changed.
Not chaste.
Why had she said she could not bear his touch?
Ruined.
Well, someone had touched her well and good. Who in the goddamn hell had she fucked? And why? Her lover hadn’t offered marriage? Maybe he was already married, this man who’d had her. Or below her station. Jeremy thought he might be sick. Right here on the Turkish carpeted floor, amid the leather tomes of Oakfield’s elegant library.
What in the hell will I do now?
He had been so sure of everything. Sure he would have her. Sure she would have him.
The pain cut too deep, rendering him incapacitated for coherent thoughts, so he just keep repeating the same truths over and over in his head, willing his mind to accept what his heart could not.
Jeremy packed his things quickly, determined to go at first light. Myers could head out in the coach behind him. He was going to London anyway. He had to get away from here before he did something stupid, like go up to Georgina’s room and seduce her. Oblige her to accept his touch and see if she still felt like refusing his offer. He could go up to her room right now and cause a commotion. They’d be found in her bedroom together, and that would be all society required. He wouldn’t even have to fuck her. He’d sure like to though. Maybe it would tamp down all this ragged anxiety he’d been holding in.
He could make Georgina marry him. He could force it right now. Her father didn’t seem to mind much about the quality of the candidate as long as the bastard offered marriage.
Jeremy crashed down on the bed, feeling like a five-year-old and fitting because his best toy had been snatched away by a playmate. No, he wouldn’t go to her room. That would be supremely stupid.
She doesn’t want you.
In the dark, cold gloom of an otherwise comfortable guest chamber, Jeremy embraced sanity and faced the brutal truth. He couldn’t take advantage of Georgina like that. He remembered the broken look on her face when she’d told him. He could never do such a beastly thing to her. It would put him right on par with Pellton now, wouldn’t it? And she’d said she was incapable of doing the one thing—the only thing really—that any woman he called wife must be able to do. Accept him into her bed.
There was something that needed doing before he left this place though. So just before dawn, Jeremy pounded on the door with vigor, his fist ready.
When Tom Russell opened that same door, groggy with sleep and standing in his nightshirt, a punishing right hook shot out and connected squarely against Tom’s jaw. Jeremy’s hand stung from the strength of the blow he delivered.
“What in the bloody hell was that for?” Tom sputtered, rubbing his maw.
“Fuck you, Russell! You knew about Georgina and led me here! Damn you to hell, you bastard! What kind of a pathetic friend are you anyway?”
“What has happened? Greymont? Tell me!”
“I offered for her last night, and she has refused me. Said she was no virgin and could not fulfill the duties of marriage. Now why in the hell is that? Can you tell me true, Russell? No lies or fabrications this time. The truth will do nicely, you conniving, bloody prick!”
Defeated, Tom dropped his head. “I’m sorry. ’Tis only because I hold you in esteem, and know you’ve always liked her, that I thought you might be able to overlook her—her state of shame. She is blameless in it, Greymont. Blameless I tell you, but rather the victim.”
Jeremy froze, coldness seeping into him, like ice water poured down his back. “What? Did someone do her wrong?”
