Page 95 of Lyon of Least Resistance

“We wouldn’t want that, would we? I can’t imagine what the revelation of your true identity would do to the good people here. Or are they as well informed as I? Are you on your way to service Sir George Marlow in your bedchamber? Or Earl Stiles up against the drawing room wall?”

“And what about you?” Cordelia snarled. “What are you doing with Georgiana?”

“I’m in love,” he said.

“You have no notion of love.”

“That’s very amusing, coming from a tart who spreads her legs for a shilling.”

“Leave Georgiana alone,” Cordelia said.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell her what kind of man you are—a man who takes delight in causing pain such that no whore in London will touch him, not even for a thousand pounds. A man who takes women unwilling.”

“Whom do you think the fair Georgiana will believe? The baronet she’s in love with or the slut she despises? And even if she does believe you, m’dear, what do you think the illustrious guests here today will say when they discover that their hostess was a two-penny whore who fucked her way through half the men of London? What do you think that will do to Georgiana’s reputation—or that of your beloved James? Or poor little Margaret? It would destroy them, of that you can be certain.”

“Leave them alone,” she said. “Do what you like to me, but leave them alone. They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“What a pretty proposition!” he said, his lips lifting into a leer. “Do what you like to me… Is that not what you said to the men you fucked?”

Then he let out a sigh.

“Oh, forgive me, m’dear. I was only jesting. Of course, I love my dear Georgiana too much to risk her reputation. I shall, of course, say nothing.”

“Y-you promise?”

He grinned. “Of course. Now, a kiss…as a token of my faith.”

“N-no, I—”

“Now, m’dear, you’re not going to be an ungracious hostess, are you?” He pulled her against him. “Just one kiss, then I’ll promise that your secret is safe—for the sake of those you pretend to care for.”

She winced as he thrust his face close. Then he covered her mouth with his. His tongue probed at the seam of her lips, and she fought the nausea rising in her gut. When he released her, she stepped back, wiping her mouth.

“A little unsatisfactory, but it must suffice,” he said. “I’d ask for a quick fuck against this wall, but I’ve no cash on me at present and you’ll want paying, will you not? Perhaps another time, ma chère Dahlia.”

He placed his hand over his heart, then he bowed and disappeared.

Cordelia stepped back, struggling to draw a breath, blinking back tears. Once she’d composed herself, she wiped her eyes, then looked up and froze.

Standing at the other end of the corridor, his gaze fixed on her, was Earl Stiles.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the earl inclined his head in her direction, then turned and disappeared.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Why could he never say the right thing?

James sliced through the steak while the guests chattered among themselves. In her place at the opposite end of the dinner table, Cordelia looked out of sorts, but she engaged in conversation with Countess Stiles, and more than once he saw her smile. But when Earl Stiles addressed Cordelia, fear flared in her eyes.

The end of the meal, when James could speak to her and apologize for his appalling behavior of earlier, couldn’t come soon enough.

What the devil had possessed him to accuse her of having no understanding of love? She had the greatest understanding of all, given that she had been deprived of it for most of her life. And, after a moment’s reflection and an observation of Sir Iain’s posturing in the billiard room, James found himself agreeing with his wife that Georgiana was too inexperienced in the ways of the world to permit Sir Iain to court her. There would be plenty of time when she embarked on her first Season next year—a Season for which he had Cordelia to thank, given that her fortune would be funding it.

I’m an arse. A stupid, bloody, utter…

“Arse.”