Page 8 of The Wager of a Lady
He imagined Georgina in a bath, rising out of the water like Aphrodite with soap bubbles sliding down her breasts. A small groan left him.
“Do not try to turn the conversation to suit you. I find it irritating and rude. You do so with regularity.” One hand slapped against her hip to make her point. “I am not one of the lords downstairs whom you are determined to fleece.”
“I’ve never fleeced anyone.” Leo hid a smile behind one hand. “Are you going to curse at me?” His cock twitched again. “I hope so. I always learn a new word or turn of phrase.”
“I utteredonecurse in your presence. One.”
“During faro. You played carelessly, which I counseled you against. The odds—”
She held up a hand. “I’m well aware of what they are. You’ve recited them to me often enough. And I read Hoyle’s treatise. Or at least some.” Shaking her head, she murmured, “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?” Leo gave her an innocent look.
“Distracting me.” Georgina’s gaze fell to Leo’s waistcoat, the top of which was visible as he relaxed back against his chair. Her nose wrinkled as if smelling refuse. “Hideous. Your taste in waistcoats is nonexistent.”
Yes, but my taste in women is excellent.
“I’m curious. Do all young ladies curse in America?” Leo tapped his chin with one finger.
“No, they do not. I’ve told you before, my grandmother was fond of foul words and taught me the value of a colorful turn of phrase. A punishment of sorts for my mother, whom my grandmother didn’t care for in the least. Grandmother also enjoyed shooting squirrels out of the trees because they were eating the carrots she’d planted in the garden. Stop changing the direction of our discussion and answer my question.”
“Very well. I am at your mercy.” He imbued the last bit with just a bit of innuendo.
“How could a gentleman,” she gave him a pointed glance, a look of defeat on her lovely features, “possibly accept a married woman—”
“I’m assuming you mean yourself,” he interrupted, watching that gold curl tremble at her brow. “I am trying to make certain of the facts.”
“Yes. Me. As awager.” Her face crumpled in disappointment. All of which was directed at him.
Leo ignored the betrayal lighting her features. “First, I amnota gentleman. My apologies if I led you to believe otherwise. True, my father is a duke, but as you know, I’m the product of an affair with his mistress. I run a gambling hell. I consort with all manner of disreputable people. There is little else to recommend me.”
“Fair enough. Then I blame myself foralsoassuming you to be my friend.”
Georgina could slice a man up with just a word. That observation, for instance, cut him to the quick. Hewasher friend. He also wanted to fuck her. Two completely different things.
“Secondly,” Leo continued, “you can’t imagine the sorts of things people wager. Mistresses. Expensive books of an erotic nature. A sliver of land. Houses. Wives are, regrettably, among the least interesting.”
“Yes, we women are often bartered.” Bitterness colored her response. “To be used at the whim of any man.”
“An unfortunate truth,” he murmured.
Jacob Rutherford, Georgina’s father, had used her athiswhim. Georgina had alluded to a misunderstanding with her parents that had resulted in her being wed to Masterson and banished from New York. But she had thus far refused to discuss the events in any detail. Tony speculated Rutherford had wanted a title in the family to improve his social standing. But Georgina’s family had yet to visit her in London to take advantage of the connection. Nor had she gone home to New York, not even for her sister’s wedding. A man was involved in Georgina’s exile, of that Leo had no doubt.
Jealousy snapped against his skin, and he pushed it away.
“I suppose I am foolish. I just thought—” She looked down at her hands before straightening her shoulders again and raising her chin. “Why mustyoube one of them?”
Because he was Leo Murphy. He wanted to scream it at her. Gambling hell owner. Notorious bastard. A man who had become as much of a debaucher of women as the detested Duke of Averell.That’swho he was. Georgina was ridiculously romantic; she refused to see him for what he was: themuck.Not honorable. Not a gentleman. Morals questionable.
“I’m not sure I have ever given you any indication I am honorable, my lady. I taught you how to gamble. Kept you company from time to time. Would that your husband had taken instruction from me. Lord Masterson might well have improved his odds of winning.”
The curl twitched in agitation. “Are you in possession of my marker or not?”
“Very well. Lord Masterson,” Leo stated coolly, “received a substantial amount of credit from me so he could finish his game of cards. He was determined to beat Lord Wentworth. Since I already own a hefty stack of your husband’s markers, it did not make good business sense to allow him any additional credit without some sort of collateral.”
A hint of color entered her cheeks. “You could have refused.”
“Had I refused,” Leo informed her, “your husband would have used the marker with your name on it, guaranteeing a night of your company, as hiswagerwith Wentworth.” Wentworth could have called the marker due at any time. Given Masterson’s careless treatment of his bride, Georgina would have found herself in a very unfortunate situation. Wentworth wasn’t known for his kind treatment of women. “I can’t fathom you would have wished for that outcome.”
