The Undoing of a Libertine (Somerset Historicals 2)

“Her countenance, you devil!” Jeremy exploded, feeling like a schoolboy on Saint Valentine’s Day. “Damn it all to hell, never mind!”

“Miss Russell appeared to me as the epitome of grace—”

“I said, never mind.” Jeremy cut him off with a wave of his hand. “And just in case you’ve forgot, wear a thick coat, Myers, for you’re riding in the open up with Ned. The interior of my coach will be for Mrs. Greymont and me alone,” he said imperiously.

“Yes, sir.” Myers bowed his head.

“Well, let’s go get me wed then. You’ll stand for me, as witness?” Jeremy gentled his tone in asking the question.

Myers’s face brightened for just a second before returning to his typical mask. “It will be my honor, Mr. Greymont.”

In the end, Myers was correct. Georgina presented herself a resplendent bride, solemn but steady, and so very beautiful. Her eyes found his the second he entered the room. She gave him a gentle smile, soothing his anxiety away in an instant. He winked at her.

The Reverend Goode read the words that bound them together until death as he married them in the formal parlor at Oakfield. Mrs. Goode played the music on the piano. The vows Jeremy spoke felt like the first “true” oath he had ever pledged in the whole of his life. He suspected it was Georgina who made that difference.

In her mother’s wedding dress of creamy, blush, silk brocade, she looked a vision, nearly bringing Mr. Russell to tears, so great was her likeness to his dearly departed wife, he had declared.

Attempting to make amends to his daughter, John Russell praised Georgina’s beauty and gifted her with her mother’s pearls. His gestures were too little, too late for Georgina though. Jeremy could see that the father had lost the daughter when he was worried more for their good name than her torment.

Georgina’s dowry was generous, although Jeremy cared little about the price they settled, his aim only to insure that his wife would never again be at the mercy of someone who did not cherish her as they should. He could admit there was some pleasure in bleeding her father for additional funds. If he was good at one thing, it was negotiation in business, and in this instance his persistence proved fruitful.

Before their departure, Jeremy took the additional opportunity to speak to Mr. Russell alone, informing him of what he’d learned in London about Pellton’s evil intent and his belief that he was connected by blood and knowledge with Georgina’s attacker. He did not spare him any of the gruesome details and was not a little satisfied to see how John Russell blanched in horror to know he would have given his daughter to such an animal and for what purpose.

So, with much relief, Jeremy got his new wife off in the coach. She shared in the relief as well. She didn’t say so, but he could tell.

Georgina seemed more than ready to leave her old home and set out for her new one, in Somerset, at Hallborough, with him.

* * * *

He knew about Georgina the whole time. He endorsed it. Would have abused her. My child. Anne’s own daughter!

John Russell felt his blood run cold as he recalled something his wife had once said. “I’ve never cared for the way Edgar Pellton looks at me, John. There’s something unnatural in that head of his. His poor wife, how can she bear him?”

John had soothed his wife with kisses and said it was because she was so beautiful that Pellton couldn’t help but be stunned by her. What man wouldn’t want her? She was the fairest prize of the county, and Pellton was no doubt a bit jealous of John’s great fortune in winning her.

John Russell remembered something else, too. Pellton had coveted his Anne. He’d wanted to marry her. Once in their university days, when deep in their cups, Pellton had let slip that he intended to call Anne Wellesley his wife one day. When Pellton left on his tour of Europe for a year and a half, John stayed in England. He courted and fell in love with the lovely Anne Wellesley during the time that Pellton was away.

Luck favored John then. He won the hand of the most wonderful woman in the world. His beloved Anne. Pellton had joked good-naturedly over the years that his friend had stolen the girl of his dreams right from under his nose.

Anne Russell was a superior woman—one that did not suffer fools lightly. She knew what stuff Pellton was made of then and no doubt would have known now.

John felt ill enough to lose the sumptuous wedding breakfast they’d all just enjoyed. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? Betrayal was such an ugly thing. Especially when it came at the hands of a trusted friend. Realizing he had erred in every way he could have done with Georgina, John knew the most profound shame for his actions as he stood there watching his little girl leave her home, and him, for good.

Anne, I’m sorry. Please forgive me the folly of shame when it should have been justice for our daughter.

John Russell clutched at his chest and peered down the drive. His son-in-law’s coach was very small in his sights as it carried their daughter away with him. Thank God for Greymont! And John meant that down to his marrow. He would not forget to offer special thanks for that young man when he prayed tonight.

It was funny how one’s opinion of a person could alter on a turn. John had never been too impressed with Greymont in the past. The boy came off rather coarse and arrogant in John’s opinion. A tad too libertine for his liking, but he had to admit, his new son-in-law did seem very devoted to Georgina and unconcerned with her past despite full disclosure of what had happened to her. Tom had vouched for Greymont’s worthiness when he had enticed him to visit in September. His son maintained there was no one more honest or loyal, and Tom’s word was good enough for John.

The father drew comfort in the belief that Jeremy Greymont would treat his daughter well and keep her safe. He’d give Georgina everything she deserved, affection, child

ren, and security. Anne would have approved.

Today Georgina looked so like Anne in that dress. But her farewell to him had been stiff and awkward. She’d offered him an empty embrace, lacking any warmth of feeling, and she had not been able to look at him. John had seen her turn back for one last glance at the house though, probably vowing never to return. His little girl had nothing but contempt for her father now. And rightly so. He deserved every bit of it and more.

John endured a new wave of nausea and shut his eyes tight. Pellton wanted with Georgina what he’d not been able to have with Anne. She was the spitting image of her mother! Anne was spot-on then, and her opinion held just as true this day as on the day she’d made it. “There’s something unnatural in that head of his.”

Friend no more. Lord Edgar Pellton had just gained an enemy. An enemy with vengeance surging through his veins. John Russell made a vow, right there on the steps of Oakfield. He would make this right, for Georgina and for Anne, who wouldn’t expect anything less from him where their children were concerned.