Words roared at him by his brother, who had inexplicably allowed himself to fall in love. Tony had nearly lost Maggie and the child she carried because of his refusal to let go of the past. It had been Leo who insisted his brother was a bloody idiot if he didn’t go after his wife. What was to be gained by allowing your past to dictate your future?
Take your own bloody advice, Leo.
Leo looked back out over the gaming floor, watching the light catch on Georgina’s hair.
When Georgina had fled London to spend her mourning period in the country, Leo had rejoiced. The temptation of her would be gone. He needed only to immerse himself in Elysium and the arms of the scores of available women in London. The series of brief affairs Leo engaged in, with any blonde, bold, voluptuous female he could find, hadn’t lasted. None of the women spoke with a flat American accent or dared to insult his waistcoats. His cock knew the difference. He hadn’t even bothered to bed the last woman.
Months had gone by. An agonizing amount of time. Leo had calculated down to the last second how long Georgina had been gone. Ten months, six days, three hours, and thirty-six minutes.
When she’d finally returned, Georgina had avoided Leo as if he were a beggar covered in pox sores. Whenever Leo approached her at Elysium under the guise of speaking to his brother or one of his staff,because he bloody well couldn’t stay away from her, Georgina lifted her chin in that stubborn manner he adored before strolling away in the opposite direction. If absolutely forced to, she would permit him to greet her politely. But nothing more. Very few words had thus far been exchanged.
He’d spent quite a lot of time convincing himself he was relieved Georgina kept her distance.
One event, Leo knew, could change a person’s life forever. The death of Tony’s mother, for instance, had altered the course of Leo’s existence.
But he hadn’t thought fucking one slightly improper American girl would affect him so much that he would no longer find any other woman appealing. Leo’s gaze was always drawn to Georgina, the shiny bauble he wanted above all others. In the last few weeks, especially after hearing about that ridiculous garden party, Leo had considered storming into Beechwood Court, which washisbloody house by the way, and just dragging her into bed.
After that, Leo wasn’t completely sure what would happen.
His eyes traced the delicate line of Georgina’s stubborn jaw as she studied her hand of cards. Her head tilted, and she smiled up at Larkin.
Leo gritted his teeth. Now he was jealous of a bloody pickpocket.
Her chin dipped as a wash of sadness crossed her lovely features. The emotion hovered about her slender shoulders and coffee-colored eyes, as it had since her return. Outwardly, Georgina appeared unchanged by her sojourn in the country, but Leo knew better. He wondered if he was the cause of her sorrow or if it was something else. Surely, she didn’t grieve Masterson.
A gentleman dressed in bottle green crossed the busy floor below, caught sight of Georgina at the faro table, and changed direction, heading toward the empty seat next to her.
Masterson’ s nephew.
Harold strutted through Elysium as if he were royalty instead of merely an earl of little importance. He continued to swill expensive brandy and play hazard poorly, more like his dead uncle than anyone would have thought. The idiot had no idea how close he was to impoverishment. How soon, he wouldn’t be able to afford an expensive coat. Possibly not even a valet.
Leo still held the previous Lord Masterson’s markers. Not out of respect for Masterson. Or his bloody nephew.
But forher. Georgina.
There would be no duns beating at Georgina’s door demanding payment.
The only reason Leo had kept Beechwood Court was so Georgina wouldalwayshave a place of her own. She might never speak to him again, but Leo had still given her an obscene sum, deposited into her account monthly and to be managed by her solicitor. Mr. Lind was paid very well not to disclose the source of Georgina’s wealth or the true ownership of Beechwood Court but to allow Georgina to believe Masterson had given her both. Leo told no one what he’d done. Not even Tony.
His eyes flicked to Harold, who took a seat next to Georgina.
Larkin, manning the faro table, looked toward the second-floor landing and, when he didn’t see Leo, nodded to Peckham, who was wandering about the floor.
Peckham turned his attention to the faro table and nodded back at Larkin.
His entire staff knew to have a care for Lady Masterson. No one questioned Leo regarding why he insisted Georgina be protected so fiercely, her comfort seen to before all others. He suspected they knew.
On the floor below, Harold leered in Georgina’s direction, coming far too close.
She paled as he spoke to her but otherwise showed no outward signs of distress. But Leo noticed the slight purse of her lips and the way her shoulders braced as if about to take a blow. He knew Georgina and Harold didn’t get on well. Harold liked to insult Georgina.
Leo made a mental note to revoke Harold’s membership.
Finally, Harold straightened and sauntered away, threading through the crowd.
Georgina returned to her game, laughing as she collected her chips. Leo’s eyes lingered over her; brazen, wild spring, savage and sharp. How defiantly Georgina had faced Leo, declaring she didn’t care for being bartered as if she were a goat. That she’d dug out the rows herself to plant tulips at Beechwood Court for a grandmother who had shot squirrels out of trees and taught her to curse.
Leo missed Georgina sofiercely.
