Page 9 of The Wager of a Lady
“He could in no way make me comply.”
“Masterson wouldn’t even have bothered to tell you until it was far too late. He would have felt bound to honor the marker as a gentleman.” Wentworth would have forced her.Hurther. Which would have led to Lord Wentworth’s ultimate demise because Leo would have had to dispose of him. “Would you have found that preferable? To find yourself locked in a room with Wentworth?”
“What I would havepreferredwas not to have been bartered with as if I were a cow or a goat.” A puff of outrage left her, and the curl fell back over her cheek. She brushed it away, tucking it neatly behind her ear.
“A very expensive goat,” Leo drawled.
“I don’t find this situation as amusing as you do.”
The amount he’d given Masterson, a lord hovering on the brink of bankruptcy, had been indecent in comparison to what was offered as collateral. But Leo would have given him much more to keep hold of Georgina’s marker. He’d informed Masterson rather bluntly that Georgina was not to be used in such a way again or his membership at Elysium would be revoked and his markers called in.
“Your anger would be better directed toward your husband, Lady Masterson. May I offer you a glass of bourbon whiskey?” He gave her a sideways glance, bringing out a bottle of the stuff from a drawer in his desk. Setting the bottle on the table, he produced two crystal-cut glasses. “I believe it is your favorite.”
Georgina’s preference for bourbon whiskey, scandalous on whichever side of the Atlantic one found themselves on, was yet another one of her intriguing habits. It mixed well with her rebellious nature, scathing tongue, and ability to curse. Of course, now he must consider she’d also been taught to shoot squirrels out of trees.
Elysium always kept several bottles of bourbon on hand for Georgina, something he’d gone to great trouble to procure.
Leo drummed his fingers on the desk, berating himself for going to such lengths just to please her.
It was only bourbon, after all.Not a poem to her eyes. Or an ode to her lips.
She jerked her chin in assent to the bourbon.
Georgina’s husband, in addition to liking muscular footmen, was one of those gentlemen who became mad with lust when gambling. Always certain the very next card or the final throw of the dice would guarantee victory, but it rarely ever did. While Leo wasn’t privy to Masterson’s finances, the elderly earl had been desperate enough to consider marriage to a wealthy American girl barely out of the school room. It certainly wasn’t to produce an heir, something Masterson had never professed any interest in. His nephew was in line to inherit.
Leo poured out two glasses of bourbon, sliding Georgina’s across the desk in her direction.
She picked up the heavy crystal and took a small sip, closing her eyes in pleasure, her features blissful.
Leo thought she would look much the same way beneath him as she climaxed.
“I am not here to debate my husband’s failings, numerous though they might be. I’ve no idea what he prefers more; gambling or visiting the rooms on Elysium’s second floor with an unending parade of young, blonde gentlemen.” Her eyes snapped open. Delicate hands clenched and flexed around the crystal of her glass as if she were considering whether to toss it at Leo’s head. Perhaps she would even tackle him to the floor.
The image was so erotic, a sigh escaped his lips.
“Let us speak plainly.” Georgina was nothing if not blunt.
“I prefer it,” Leo said.
Lord Masterson, giddy at Rutherford’s gold flooding his bank account, had probably thought he was wedding a weak little milksop from America. A girl who would be impressed with his title as much as Rutherford. One who would be obedient. Docile.
Instead, he got Georgina. Leo almost felt sorry for Masterson.
“That marker can’t possibly be legal, not even here at Elysium where you allow all manner of lewd behavior. I should not have had to come here tonight to demand you destroy it. You should have delivered it to me.”
“Because I taught you whist?” He gave a laugh. “Or is it because you wrongly assumed me to be a gentleman?”
“Both.”
“My brother is the gentleman. You spend a decent amount of time with him. You should be able to tell the difference between us.” His charming, verylegitimatebrother. There were times when the distinction gnawed at him.
She took another sip of the bourbon, catching a stray drop with her tongue.
Jesus, everything she did sent fire between his legs. When he’d taught her to play hazard, Georgina had leaned over the table, her breasts nearly escaping the confines of her bodice, and blown on the dice for luck, smiling at him the entire time.
He’d very nearly fainted because all the blood in his body had rushed to his cock.
“Did you really toss a copy of Debrett’s Peerage into the fire? I understand it was a gift from Lady Talbot,” he said. Changing the topic was a way to distract and allow some of his ardor to cool. This maddening need for Georgina threatened his control, and Leoneverlost control of himself. Nor had he gone so long without bedding a woman. He had no interest in Lady Dunley, who still pursued him. His mistress, one he’d ceased to visit some time ago, had found another protector. Just last night, a gorgeous widow, Mrs. Brushnell, had tried to lure him upstairs to the second floor, and he’d waved her way. Her charms left him cold.
