Page 101 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

Bull was dressed in a beautifully tailored suit in outrageous color combinations, hair slicked back and hat clutched in his hands hard enough to bend the brim. He’d stopped still, only feet into the room, and was staring at Felicity.

Felicity was staring right back.

Georgia’s gaze flicked back and forth between them—and the identical looks of awkward fear on their expressions—and sucked in a breath as she realized what she was seeing.

Just as she opened her mouth to ask, Thorne squeezed her hand. She hadn’t realized he still held it. When he glanced at her, he gave a sharp shake of his head.

Bull took a deep breath, held it, then let it out. “M-Mother?”

His voice had been low and quavered a bit, sounding much younger than his years. And it seemed to trigger something in Felicity.

With a gasping sob, she thrust the cat toward Georgia who had no choice but to take the thing, and threw herself across the room toward her son.

“James!” she cried, her arms grasping toward him, only to rock to a stop in front of him. Her hands flitted about his face and shoulders, as if afraid to touch him.

When her fingers settled against the young man’s jaw, his eyelids fluttered closed. There were tears on both of their cheeks when they finally embraced.

It was a beautiful, heartwarming scene, which Georgia would have absolutely appreciated more had Miss Prettypaws not, at that moment, been trying to eviscerate her.

Apparently the cat was not as boneless as it had appeared in Felicity’s lap, and didn’t appreciate her attempts to hold it around the stomach.

The damned beast clawed its way up Georgia’s chest to her shoulder, batted murderously at her coiffure, then—with a gleeful yowl—leapt to freedom. Georgia staggered, but Thorne braced his hand against her back.

“Ye’re alright?”

“He’s her son?” she hissed back at him, keeping her expression as placid as possible in case her friend turned back to find her speaking to Thorne, covered in cat hair and possibly blood. “Felicity is Bull’s mother?”

“Ah.” She felt Thorne shrug. “It’s a long story, and no’ mine to tell. But aye. I had to return to London for the new year, so I offered to escort the lad.”

Good heavens. Georgia watched as her friend straightened, patting at Bull’s chest and wiping her own eyes. The pair looked more awkward than should be humanly possible, but it didn’t necessarily look like a bad thing.

“Duty calls, milady,” Thorne murmured as he stepped away from Georgia.

Wait! She wanted to call him back, to demand he tell her what he knew of Demon’s plans. Of Demon’s callow use of her body as a bargaining chip. But she still had her pride, so she pressed her lips together.

Besides, you rather enjoyed his callow use of your body, did you not?

“Miss Montrose, perhaps ye’d allow me to help Bull get settled in?”

Thorne was even now smiling charmingly at Felicity, who was adorably flustered by the entire experience. Actually, she seemed in dire need of a hug, a cup of tea, and a listening ear, all of which Georgia could provide in the hours and days to come.

“Yes, yes, thank ye—you, thank you, Viscount Thornebury.”

“Thorne,” he corrected smoothly, throwing his arm around Bull’s shoulders. “I’m a close friend of the lad’s aulder brother, the Duke, and I promised I’d help him settle in.”

It was a testament to how flustered the lad was that he didn’t try to steal Thorne’s wallet.

As Felicity stammered through her approval and tried to explain which chamber would be Bull’s, Georgia caught the butler’s eye and gestured for tea to be sent in. It was a ridiculous pantomime, but it worked, and the man nodded somberly.

Georgia exhaled and realized for the first time in days—or possibly only one day, or possibly weeks—she was focused on something other than her own misery. Nothing had been fixed in her life, but she had the opportunity to help a friend. And Felicity absolutely needed some help, based on the way she was wringing her hands.

Tea and a good hug might not make everything better, but it could help.

Georgia would like to be of help, and she could also use a hug.

Her heart was still broken, but perhaps she could still do good for a friend.

Chapter 22

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