The Undoing of a Libertine (Somerset Historicals 2)

“You were right,” he whispered.

“About what?”

“It does hurt to love someone so much. And I’ve learned something else, too. Before you, all the hardness and rough behavior with those others—”

He choked on his words and heard his own voice tremble, but by God he would explain his feelings to her. This was important, and she deserved to know. He took a deep breath and tried again.

“For myself I know now what I was doing was a way to try to feel something because my spirit was so very empty. I didn’t know it at the time. With you though, all I could do was ‘feel.’ It was like walking into the light and seeing for the first time in my life. Such a great difference of feeling with you, my Gina. And I felt it right away. Like nothing I’ve ever known.”

Jeremy cupped her face with one hand and brushed her cheekbone with his thumb. “Please don’t ever leave me, Gina. I could not live in a world without you. Now that I know the joys of your love, I realize that a life without you would be no life at all.”

“You’ll never have to worry about that though,” she told him, her voice going deep and soft as she leaned into his palm.

“That’s the part of loving that hurts.”

Gina looked to him in question, her head tilted.

“Knowing that you couldn’t live without that person. That you need them so badly, you’d die if they ever left or were lost to you. It’s what happened to my mother. When my father left her, she died. Didn’t want to live anymore. I vowed never to give my heart away like she did, but history has a way of repeating itself I s’pose.” He smiled a little. “For that’s exactly what I’ve done with you.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Anger and jealousy can no more bear to lose sight

of their objects than love.

—George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss (1860)

Walking up to the door, Georgina could feel the tension wafting off of Jeremy next to her. Therese Blufette’s private residence stood before them both, and soon they’d know whatever it was that she wanted from Jeremy.

The house itself was part of the elegant Adelphi complex, overlooking the Thames, fashionable and artfully designed by the Adam brothers of Scotland.

A butler admitted them into a cheerful white-and-gold salon with a very frail-looking Therese arranged on the chaise. She was most definitely ill, and if the suggestion had been noticeable before, now it was a surety.

“Welcome to my home, Mr. and Mrs. Greymont. Please excuse my dishabille and my improper greeting. I thank you for granting me this audience.” She graciously bowed her head.

“You are ill, Madame,” Jeremy said. He worded it as a statement. There was no denying the facts, and Georgina understood how it seemed wrong not to acknowledge it honestly.

“Yes. I imagine I’ll not see another spring, in this life,” she answered gently, her skin so pale it appeared almost translucent.

“Surely not, Madame,” Jeremy said.

“I apologize if my condition is uncomfortable for you, Mr. Greymont. I assure you I regret causing distress to you or your wife. ’Tis not my intention. But, my failing health is the impetus though. The reason I have asked you to come. I have so little time left, and my doctors assure me there are no treatments or therapies of any benefit to me at this s

tage. I am plagued with a cancer that will prove to be the victor in this fight, without a doubt.”

She folded her hands in her lap, and spoke carefully. “I have no regrets. My life has been full. I have loved and been loved. I was blessed with motherhood rather late in my life, but no less welcomed. I have a son. A wonderful boy. Twelve years old. Did you know that, Mr. Greymont?”

“We are very sorry for your troubles, Madame Blufette,” Jeremy told her. He was calm and dignified, Georgina thought. She could tell he was trying to be sympathetic to this dying woman, but bewildered and uneasy. He cleared his throat. “No, I was unaware that you had a son.” He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. “Why, Madame, have you summoned me, and why are you telling me all of this? Tell me why you speak of your son in such ominous suggestion.”

“Because apart from me, you are his only family. He is of your blood.”

“No.” Jeremy shook his head at her. “He could not possibly be my son. Madame, we have never—you and I did not ever—” He held up a palm. “You know he could not be mine,” Jeremy said quietly but firmly, his other hand reaching out to enclose Georgina’s smaller one in a tight clasp.

“Not your son, Mr. Greymont. Your brother.” She nodded slowly. “My son’s father and yours are one in the same—Henri Greymont. My son is your brother. You share blood and a name. He is called Revé. Revé Greymont.”

Georgina felt her hand get squeezed tighter and breath expel out of Jeremy. He was in shock. Such shock that she imagined Therese could have toppled him with only the tiniest of nudges.

Jeremy leapt up off of the settee all in a rush and then dragged a shaking hand through his hair, making it spread out in disarray. “Can this be true?” Jeremy looked at Georgina first and then back at Therese. There was a tremble in his lip. “I have a brother…” Jeremy sat down again.