If I had a damned acorn, I’d toss it at her.
“Lady Dunley,” Leo said quietly. “I need a word with Lady Masterson. If you would return inside, I’ll be along directly.” He shifted in Georgina’s direction, the handsome lines of his face pulled tight.
“I am very quaint, my lady,” Georgina said, exaggerating her speech. “My grandmother used to shoot squirrels out of trees. Oddly enough, their fur was about the same color as your hair.”
Lady Dunley gasped. “You rude little cretin. No wonder Lady Talbot—”
“I care less for Lady Talbot’s opinion than I do for yours.” Georgina turned back to Leo. “My grandmother was an interesting woman. Full of all sorts of wisdom. And able to see a person’s true nature.” Georgina stood and smoothed her skirts, her eyes never leaving Leo’s face. “She would have taken one look at you, Mr. Murphy, and said you can’t dress up a pig.”
Leo’s face darkened, his wide mouth scowling at her. “Don’t, Georgina.”
“Because even in thefinestclothes,” she continued, waving her fingers at his expensively tailored coat, “underneath, there isstilla pig.” She smiled broadly and turned to the scandalized woman before her who looked about to have a fit of apoplexy. Perhaps Lady Dunley would be so distressed she would fall into the fountain and hit her head on one of those stupid cherubs. Or be pierced through the heart by an elongated stone nipple. “I bid you both good evening.”
Georgina turned, careful to keep her back ramrod straight and her hands still by her sides as Lady Dunley sputtered in shock behind her. The taste of Leo and the cheroot still lingered on Georgina’s lips.
She had her answer, only it wasn’t the one she’d wanted.
She should have listened to Welles after all.
* * *
He had,in no way, thought it would feel like this.
Leo had been shot. Stabbed in the ribs. Fallen off a horse. Nearly drowned, no thanks to Tony. But this? Far worse.
After their night together, Leo had thought of nothingbuther. The feel of her supple form curved to his and the scent of spring in his nostrils. All that...longingfor Georgina had made him furious. His usual control had slipped. Even Tony had commented on his ill humor.
Why couldn’t he have merely fucked Georgina and been done with it?
He pulled out the bottle of scotch from underneath the bench, swallowing down several mouthfuls, listening to the muted sounds of Elysium behind him. The courtyard and gardens themselves were silent except for the water spilling from the fountain. Lady Dunley had thankfully returned inside, still hissing at being compared to a squirrel, led away by the ever-efficient Peckham. Poor Peckham, blustering out apologies for having allowed Lady Dunley to escape Leo’s office. Leo still didn’t know what she wanted with him. Nor did he care. The note she’d sent earlier asking to speak to him had been intentionally vague.
But Georgina had assumed the worst, and Leo had allowed her to.
“Don’t you dare judge me,” Leo hissed to one of the stone cherubs staring in his direction from the fountain. “A few months from now, Georgina will thank me that at least one of us had the sense to put a stop to this.”
Regrets were useless. It was done. In time, he’d forget her. London was full of luscious young ladies with a taste for adventure who would welcome Leo into their beds. Possibly even an American or two.
Underneath there is still a pig.
A choked sound erupted from him, and Leo quickly took a mouthful of scotch to swallow it away. The amber liquid burned into his belly but provided little relief from the cold setting in across his chest and seeping into his bones. Leo tipped the bottle to his lips once more, knowing it would do no good. There was not enough scotch in all of London to ease the hollow feeling inside him.
7
Georgina peered through the veil covering her face, wishing she were anywhere but here, sitting in the drawing room listening to the false grief of Harold and his terrible wife, Clarissa. She’d endured their presence nearly every day the last month or so as her husband lay dying. Tolerated the threats Harold had taken great pleasure in hurling toward her at every opportunity. Had she been unconvinced of the state of his mind before, she was no longer.
Even if my uncle had managed to get you with child, which, as we both know, is doubtful at best, I would insist on being made guardian, Georgina. You are unfit to be anyone’s mother. Just look at you.
Harold’s determination to assume the mantel of the earldom now bordered on fanatical obsession. When Masterson became ill, collapsing after a rather strenuous bout of activity with a recently hired groom, Harold and Clarissa had arrived before Georgina could even send for them. Masterson’s heir had appeared with his trunks, hovering about his uncle like some greedy vulture waiting to pick clean the bones. Harold had taken to roaming the halls late at night, examining every knick-knack, vase, painting, or other objects d’art, writing carefully in a small notebook he carried. Once, Georgina had caught Harold below stairs, counting out the silver in front of Anderson, the butler.
I do hope you haven’t taken a lover, Georgina. Do remember, I won’t tolerate a cuckoo in the nest.
She’d had no lovers save one. She hadn’t the heart for another.
Harold wanted her gone from England, and Georgina heartily agreed. There was nothing to keep her in London now that Masterson had died. No reason to linger in a city in which she’d never felt welcome.
A pair of glorious blue eyes held hers. The movement of their hips rocking together. The sheerrightnessof having been with Leo. Looking back on their last discussion, outside in Elysium’s private courtyard beside that obscene fountain, Georgina had realized not only her love for Leo but his inability to return the affection. She was forever doomed to want the attentions of men who couldn’t return them; her father, Winbow, even Masterson to some extent. All of them thought her no more than a chess piece to be moved about to suit their needs.
She missed Leo but didn’t want to.
