Page 98 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

But his mind was already fixed on the future. He’d allow the horse free rein to run for a bit, hopefully wiping Demon’s mind wonderfully blank, then walk the animal and think about this mess. How to explain to Georgia that aye, this had started as a business arrangement, and aye, he’d been using her to get to her uncle…but then he’d gone and fallen in love with her?

She might’ve only seen him as means to an end, and he might not deserve her love…but she damn well had his.

He swung into the saddle and nodded down to the Earl and his companion, who was helping the bleeding man sit upright in the cold grass. “I’ll no’ thank ye for the beastie, although she’s fine. Have the bill sent ‘round to the Duke of Lickwick.”

From where he was sprawled, Bonkinbone glared up at him, blood pouring from his nose. “Who da Duke of Lickwick?”

Demon knew his scars made him look particularly terrifying when he grinned, as he did now. “Me.”

He had the satisfaction of watching both of their faces screw into masks of horror moments before he urged the mare into motion.

Then he dismissed the pair—who were obviously more concerned about offending him now they knew he had a higher rank—and concentrated on Georgia.

How to make her understand how much he needed her.

Chapter 21

Georgia stared, unseeing, at the needle as it dipped in and out of the silk in her hands. The embroidery thread was blue, the silk was a pale green, and other than that, she had no idea what her fingers were doing.

Where had it come from? Felicity had just handed the project to her when she’d asked for something to occupy her hands.

Should have asked for a book.

Well, yes, books did make everything better.

Unless you were handed a novel. Or something to make you feel.

Well, yes to that as well. She didn’t need to feel. She’d felt quite enough already, thank you very much.

Today was January second. Or possibly the fourth. Or some time mid-March. Georgia had no way of knowing, nor did she care. Everything had been a thick, sticky blur since that confrontation in the park, when she’d seen Father and…

And learned the truth about Demon.

Father would love to see you brought low.

But there was no reason to lie about this. Besides, she’d seen the truth in Demon’s expression.

He had used her. He’d threatened to ruin her if Father didn’t give him what he wanted…and then he had.

You were the one who suggested the bargain. You signed the contract. You wanted—

The needle slipped, pricking the pad of her thumb through her glove.

The sharp pinch of pain jolted her from her misery, causing her spine to snap straight. She dropped the embroidery to her lap and began to unbutton her gloves.

Finally, something to focus on!

Why was she even bothering with embroidery? It was a skill she’d learned because her father had approved of it as a feminine pursuit, all those years ago. She’d made that bookmark for Demon for Christmas because she’d known he might appreciate it.

But now?

Now?

She had no reason to embroider. No home. No future.

Trying not to cry, Georgia stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Which was a thoroughly embarrassing way to be found by one of her friends—tears in her eyes, thumb in her mouth—when Felicity stepped into the drawing room. But Georgia reminded herself that her father was the one who was so obsessed with proper conduct, and he’d made it perfectly clear he was no longer part of her life any longer. Besides, with the rumors Gigleigh—his gossip-loving riding companion—had surely spread around London during the last few days, one might argue Georgia and proper conduct weren’t on the best of terms.

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