Page 71 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

“Aye, Thorne,” the Duke called as he sauntered over. “Shut up. Now, Demon, are ye no’ going to invite us in?”

“I’m no’,” Demon growled, and Georgia glanced at him.

Oh dear. The poor man looked fairly overwhelmed, all these people crowding around him. He’d spent so long being alone, but he’d called these people his friends.

So she slipped her hand into his. “Those clouds look threatening.”

It was all she said, but she squeezed his hand—half encouraging, half reminding him she’d be there with him—and he glanced at her.

If her being with him could possibly help him…

The look in his eyes changed from panic to acceptance, and he sighed.

“Fine.” His gaze flicked back to the gathered crowd. “Come get warm, have some tea, then ye’re off again.”

Sophia put her hands out for the children to clasp, and the Duke raised a brow. “I kenned we could count on ye for a warm welcome, auld friend.”

“Fook ye,” Demon muttered under his breath as he turned on his heel, taking Georgia with him.

It wasn’t until she tugged at his hand—the second time she stumbled—that he slowed, and then only long enough to pull her off to the side of the front steps.

“Dinnae expect me to be polite, Georgia.”

Guessing what he needed, she smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. Even through her gloves, she could tell he was cold and likely as ready to be indoors as she was. “I would never want ye to be something you are not, Demon.”

She’d meant it as a jest, but the intense way he stared at her told her he was thinking of something else. Something involving her.

Finally he muttered, “Guests. At Endymion.”

She wasn’t certain what exactly he was irritated about—the fact there were guests at Endymion, or the fact the castle wasn’t prepared for them—but she was her father’s daughter. She’d been raised to be a powerful hostess, raised to make polite conversation with Society’s elite, trained to be perfect.

Yes, the fact a duke and duchess had just arrived unannounced—bringing their family and a bonus Viscount—was a little bit out of the realm of what she’d been taught to handle.

But she could do this. She’d do it for Demon.

So she squeezed his hand. “It is unlikely Bruno—wherever he may be—will be available to take their coats.” She still hadn’t met the mysterious man.

“Fook their coats. If they wanted to be waited on, they should’ve stayed at Exingham.”

For some reason the response made her want to smile, when she should’ve been appalled. “None of the parlors are prepared or warm. They might not even be cleaned—I haven’t inspected them.”

With a growl, Demon tugged her closer. “Cuntwomble! Why should ye be inspecting my parlors?”

Patting his chest, she tried to reassure him. “I am just pointing out there’s no place to put them beside the library, Demon. And we do need to put them somewhere. I will ask Mrs. Kettel to send up tea and some of Mary’s cookies, but we need to allow them to refresh themselves before you send them off again.”

He was frowning down at her.

“Please, Demon?” Georgia whispered. She’d love the chance to converse—even for a short while—with people who knew him and seemed not to mind his gruff manner. People he’d called friends.

Finally, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. My library. Fook.”

She suspected it was the best welcome these strangers—friends?—could expect.

Chapter 15

There were people in his library. Not just people, but many people. Seeing them peering at his bookshelves and exclaiming over the Christmas decorations made Demon twitchy.

Ye’re whining like a bairn. These are yer friends.

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