Page 43 of The Wager of a Lady (The Beautiful Barringtons 4)

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“Lady Masterson.” A warm hand took Georgina’s elbow, startling her as she hurried toward Nettie and the room she presided over. Sandalwood and cheroot filled her nostrils along with a scent that remained solely his.

Leo.

Her heart squeezed painfully. Why would he seek her out tonight, of all nights? Her decision had already been made. She was leaving England tonight, and nothing, not even Leo, would change her mind.

Her eyes fluttered closed at his touch, allowing herself a moment of sheer pleasure as his presence enveloped her. She wanted nothing more than to sink into his warmth.

“Good evening, Mr. Murphy.” She opened her eyes as a bubbly feeling filled her stomach, like she’d taken a large swallow of champagne.Move.She commanded her feet, but her burgundy damask slippers seemed stuck to the floor. “I was just on my way out.” She tried to pull her elbow free. “If you’ll excuse me.” Her traitorous body leaned in his direction, toward all the wonderful heat that was Leo.

“I should like to speak with you,” he ground out.

“Why?” She looked down, trying not to stare at his thighs so close to her skirts. “The last time we spoke wasn’t at all pleasurable.”

“Aren’t you tired of avoiding me, Georgina? I’ve grown weary of watching your efforts.” His finger slid along the edge of her bodice. “This gown, for instance, is especially tempting. Did you wear it for me?”

She pushed his hand away, her skin tingling. “Stop looking then. And I rarely think of you at all, let alone dress purposefully to attract your attention.”

He raised a brow. “Yet you come to the one place I am known to be.”

A fair point.She had always found comfort in the knowledge he was near, whether avoiding him or not.

A thick curl fell against his cheek and Georgina stared at the bit of dark hair, wanting so much to rub the strand between her fingers, to bask in the remembered feel of all those silken locks between her thighs. “Perhaps I find the odds better at Elysium than other gambling hells. There is also the advantage of the rooms on the second floor. Now, if you will step aside.”

“No.” His arm shot out, palm flat against the wall, trapping her against the flocked wallpaper, which frankly was quite lovely.

“I’ll scream.”

“Bloody hell, Georgina. Go ahead. Do you really think anyone at Elysium will save you fromme?”

No, she didn’t suppose they would. She glanced down the hall but saw no sign of Harold.

“I’m grateful for the dim lighting else your waistcoat might make me dizzy,” she said. “It’s hideous. Your sister designs clothing, for God’s sake. Allow her to create something that doesn’t strain the eyes and roil the stomach.”

A tiny half-smile crossed the wide mouth. “No one is supposed to know about Andromeda’s hobby.Youshouldn’t know.”

“Welles introduced me to your sisters.” And the Duchess of Averell. Georgina’s entire return to London seemed filled with nothing but Barringtons. Except for the occasional murderous assailant. The duke, thankfully, had been tending to his estate in the country, so she’d never had to pretend she didn’t know him. How awkward that would have been.

“Welles thought it would be nice if I had some friends.” He’d mistakenly assumed Georgina wanted to stay in this dreadful city even though she’d told him often enough she meant to return to New York. “Andromeda showed me an entire portfolio of her work.”

“Andromeda draws sheet after sheet of gowns and adornments. When she was young, she created an entire trousseau for her favorite doll, Miss Tipplewort. I bought her the doll, thinking she’d force me to sit through one of her tea parties, but instead, she took poor Miss Tipplewort and cut the dress from her body.Green isn’t her color,Romy informed me. She must have been all of nine. Always has feathers or bits of ribbon stuck to her. And—”

“Stop it,” she said softly, looking up at him, holding back the tears threatening to fall at his blatant attempt to distract her from the seriousness of their conversation. “You didn’t stop me to discuss Andromeda’s hobby.”

The blue of his eyes sparkled in the muted light of the hallway. “No, but isn’t it better than avoiding each other, or making uncomfortable polite platitudes when we do meet?” He leaned over her shoulder and...inhaledher.

Georgina shivered in pleasure at the way his breath floated over her skin. “I would prefer you get to the point.”

His hand reached out, tugging at a bit of her skirts. “We haven’t talked since before Masterson died, Georgina.”

“Yes. As I mentioned before, a wholly unpleasant experience. Didn’t you tell me I was merely a trinket? A piece of tin used to scare away birds?”

“I said nothing of the kind.” The tip of his nose glanced off her temple, his eyes fluttering closed, his dark lashes falling to brush his cheeks. A sound left him, one that sent a wave of heat curling around her mid-section. “Your anger toward me is justified. Deserved. I was intentionally cruel.”

“Yes, you were.” Her body arched toward him, and Georgina had to force herself to straighten and take a step back. She’d forgotten how it felt to be so close to Leo. How intoxicating it was to be near his warmth. If she pressed her ear to his chest, Georgina would hear his heartbeat, more soothing to her than any lullaby.

“I have thought a thousand times about storming Beechwood Court.” His fingers twisted in the folds of her skirts, pulling gently to bring her near him once more.

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