Page 11 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
He caught her gaze again, and this time, there was a firm intensity in his blue eyes. “They are not lies, Miss Wyatt. Your appearance may be unusual, yes. But it is anything but appalling.” He smiled crookedly. “As far as I am concerned, being unusual is a good thing.”
She realized he had slid forward on his chair toward her and she got quickly to her feet, desperate to put space between them. “Do not bother yourself with such smooth words, Your Grace. I have already drawn my opinion of you. I can tell you to be a damnable rake.”
In truth, she had drawn that conclusion the moment he had opened his mouth the previous night. Back then, his depraved, rakish behavior had only served to encourage her own wanton side. But no more. From now on, she would see to it that she had as little to do with the Duke of Levinton as possible.
The Duke got to his feet, closing the distance between them. In spite of herself, Georgina’s heart began to quicken.
“I must say,” he said, his voice low, “you have come to such a conclusion extremely quickly, Miss Wyatt.” His eyes met hers pointedly. “Given the two of us have never met before.”
Georgina swallowed heavily. “Well. Men like you are easy to spot. I am fairly sure that it is your intention.”
The Duke grinned. “Have you not heard, Miss Wyatt? Rakes make the finest husbands. Once they find the right lady to tame them, of course.”
She held his gaze, despite the blaze in her cheeks. “And I am afraid my sister is not the right lady, Your Grace. She is far too young and inexperienced to keep a scoundrel like you in check.”
The Duke did not flinch at the insult. He took a step closer, catching her off guard. Usually, people made a great effort to keep their distance from her, as if ashamed to look too closely at her glaring imperfections.
Could he possibly have been telling the truth when he said he finds me anything but appalling?She shoved the treacherous thought away.
“And what of you, Miss Wyatt?” the Duke said, in a soft voice. “Do you imagine yourself capable of keeping a scoundrel under control?”
Georgina could not hold back her sharp inhalation, shocked at his arrogance, his indecency. “How dare you speak to me in such a way!”
A smile flickered on the edge of his lips. “Forgive me.” He did not sound sorry at all.
Georgina shook her head. “My sister did not wish to marry you before she even knew a thing about the kind of man you are. I am certain she will be even less pleased about the match once she meets you.”
The Duke just shrugged coolly. “I do not wish to marry your sister either. But such is the world of theton. It is what we are condemned to, I am afraid.”
“Do forgive the delay, Your Grace,” sang the Dowager Viscountess as she swanned back into the room.
Georgina had never been more relieved to see her grandmother. The warring between her mind and her body in the Duke’s presence was simply unbearable.
“No need to apologize, My Lady,” said the Duke, shooting a glance Georgina’s way. “I very much enjoyed my conversation with your granddaughter.”
“Very good.” The Dowager nudged Lydia forward. She was dressed in a fine sky-blue gown, but Georgina could still see traces of tears in her reddened eyes. And her pained expression was on display for all to see. “Your Grace, may I introduce my youngest granddaughter, Miss Lydia Wyatt.”
And Georgina hurried toward the doorway with an excuse on her lips, fleeing the parlor as though her skirts were burning.
* * *
Vincent stared out the window of the coach as it rolled smoothly through London back toward Levinton Manor. No matter how much he tried to think of other things, his mind was full of Georgina Wyatt.
She had intrigued him from the moment she had appeared at the top of the staircase. Yes, there was her unusual appearance; those long white scars marking her face like divots in sand. The fierceness of her blue eyes against that pale, hatched skin. But it was more than that. It was…
No. I am being foolish. She cannot have been the lady in the mask. She was not even at the ball last night. But her voice…
Was there a chance she had lied to him about her attendance? He could have sworn he saw a flicker of recognition in Miss Wyatt’s eyes when she first saw him standing in the foyer of Thomson House.
Just my imagination?
Her fieriness, her sharp, quick-witted tongue… And yes, her plump pink lips… All seemed a match for the mysterious masked creature.
He shook his head. It could not have been Georgina Wyatt. As she had told him, her unusual appearance would give her little cause to attend such events. No doubt last night she had simply been at home, reading or sewing or doing whatever it was bright young ladies like her actually did.
A shame, for certain. He had meant it when he had told Georgina her looks were anything but appalling. He could only imagine how challenging life must be for her as a lady of theton, where appearance and presentation were so crucial. But when he had looked at Georgina Wyatt, he had not seen a scarred and damaged face, but a unique and captivating woman. Nonetheless, he had had the feeling she had not believed a word that had come from his mouth. Not that he could blame her, given the uncouth way he had spoken to her. As he usually did, he had taken things a step too far. He sighed, leaning his head against the cool window of the carriage.
Georgina Wyatt was not the masked lady, and that is that.
