Her eyes were dark now, and he saw that same dizzying desire reflected in her gaze. She felt it too.
He took a step closer and she tilted her head back, her lips parting.
“There you are!” The sound of his mother’s voice in the open doorway startled them both.
He moved back quickly and Georgie—well, it seemed as though Georgie had been poked by a dagger.
She let out a squeak of surprise before bolting to the other side of the room.
The duchess didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as she walked in. “Thank goodness I’ve found you two.” She stopped short and darted her gaze between the two of them. He waited for her to remark on the fact that they were alone, but it seemed she had bigger issues at hand. “You will not guess what people are saying about you.”
He looked over at Georgie but she was staring at the curtains, studying them as though she’d raced to that side of the room out of sheer curiosity as to their weight and texture.
Odd girl.
“I believe we are aware of the rumors,” he responded, because surely one of them should. He turned to face his mother with her cold, unreadable stare. “Obviously they are not true.”
She arched a brow. “Well, of course, dear. It’s a wonder anyone would believe such a thing.”
He flinched inwardly on Georgie’s behalf. But then again, perhaps his mother had meant that no one would believe a sweet young girl so full of wit and beauty and charisma would want anything to do with an uptight, stodgy old duke.
“No offense intended, of course, Miss Cleveland,” his mother continued.
Or maybe not.
Georgie turned around finally, and judging by her sweet, rueful smile it was clear she had regained her composure, along with her sense of humor. “None taken, Your Grace.”
His mother snapped into action. “There’s no use trying to figure out why people start this sort of gossip, what matters is how we respond.”
“Must we respond at all?” he asked. He didn’t like the look in his mother’s eyes. She was scheming, there was no doubt. However, much as he dreaded whatever plan was to come and despite the unorthodox reason, he couldn’t help but feel just a touch grateful for this sordid mess if it meant his mother was back to her old self.
Georgie crossed the room toward them. He didn’t look but he knew it. He could sense her in the room, feel her movements as if they were connected.
He sighed quietly. One kiss and his brain resorted to romantic drivel.
“Yes, must we?” Georgie asked.
He was surprised to hear Georgie echo his question. When she reached his side she clasped her hands in front of her. One might suspect she was the sweet, simple innocent she pretended to be. But he knew better. She was a little minx, and she was up to something.
“After all,” she continued with only the slightest trace of mockery. “No one in his right mind would believe that the duke would take an interest in me.”
He stiffened at the barbed comment, so harmless to his mother but so very critical of him.
And his kiss.
She shrugged, casting him a side glance that skewered him better than any sword could do. “Perhaps if we ignore it completely it will just…go away.”
He narrowed his gaze but didn’t respond. She was talking about him. No, she was talking to him. Calling him out for his cowardly silence these last two days. Perhaps her scorn was well deserved but it stung nonetheless. That sting made his voice sharper than intended. “Or perhaps by ignoring the situation, we would get the point across that there is nothing to discuss. Why give it more credence than is due? Clearly someone was mistaken, that’s all.”
She turned to face him and he saw her flush, the spark of anger in her eyes. “A mistake?” she said. “Of course it was a mistake. Whoever started this absurd rumor must have had too much to drink, I’d imagine.”
He clenched his jaw to hold back a retort. He had been drinking that night, it was true. But he’d been far from inebriated. Still, he could let her believe that. Let her think that his will power had been compromised by alcohol rather than the fetching allure of her perfume, among other things.
“Don’t you think so, Your Grace?” she asked, her tone deceptively mild as she addressed him.
He ignored the question as there was no right answer. He would not lie but letting her believe he’d been inebriated allowed him to avoid further questions.
Coward.
Yes, cowardly perhaps, but right now he had bigger issues to face. Namely, his mother. “What are you suggesting, Mother?”
His mother gave a small shrug that was far too innocent. “You’ve agreed that it’s high time you select a bride,” she started.
He let out a grunt of acknowledgement, ignoring Georgie’s prying gaze.
“Perhaps it’s time we moved matters along.”
He heard an alarm in the back of his mind. He wasn’t one of those men who was terrified of marriage or who balked at the thought of carrying out his titular duties. But, at the same time, this was a decision that would affect the rest of his life. Not exactly a choice to be rushed just because that toad Lord Malcolm had opened his smug mouth.
“We’ll host a gathering,” his mother continued, excitement clear in her voice.
“A gathering,” he repeated.
“A ball?” Georgie sounded far too hopeful. He shot her a withering glare, which she did not seem to notice.
His mother hesitated before casting him a wary look. Smart woman. “Not a ball, per se.” She arched her brows, giving him a cheerful smile. “Just a small gathering.”
“Oh.” Georgie sounded disappointed and he had the most ridiculous urge to comfort her.
“Not to worry, Miss Cleveland. Mother’s idea of a small gathering is the equivalent of an opulent ball to the rest of society.”
Georgie clapped her hands together, apparently already over her malice toward him if she could move on to giddy, girlish excitement so easily. And over a ball, of all things.
He had to intervene before this got out of hand. “How do you expect this to help matters, Mother?”
She arched her brows in surprise. “Why, it would show the world that we have nothing to hide. And we can aside the matter concerning the nature of your relationship to Miss Cleveland.”
Georgie coughed delicately into her hand, but he was sure he heard a snicker in there as well.
“I hardly see how that’s necessary. You said yourself no one would—”
“What people ought to know and what they choose to believe are never the same, dear,” his mother said sweetly. Too sweetly. Once again he was keenly aware that his mother was up to something.
“Besides,” she added with a smile. “This way we’ll have all the ladies from the list in one place where you can converse with each at will.”
He’d stiffened at the mention of the list, not because he was ashamed to be studying his future bride. That was a necessity of his role. No, he grew uncomfortable under Georgie’s mocking gaze.
“The ladies of the list,” she repeated, her tone dreamy, melodic, and filled with laughter. She turned to his mother. “I do love that phrase, don’t you? It brings to mind Camelot and King Arthur, with his knights of the round table.”
His mother pursed her lips in response. “What an odd notion, Miss Cleveland.”
Georgie seemed undeterred by his mother’s mild scolding. She shrugged. “Perhaps, but there’s just something so romantic about it, isn’t there?”
Her gaze fell on him and he frowned back at her. He knew exactly what she was saying. There was nothing at all romantic about the ladies of the list. He was treating marriage as a business endeavor, as one ought. It was a contract, after all. It was one more duty and obligation on top of the multitude of duties and obligations that made up his life.
“There’s nothing romantic about finding a duchess,” he said. “The lady who takes on the role will have a responsibility to me and to this estate.”
&
nbsp; Georgie widened her eyes in surprise. “I do hope that is not how you plan to propose, Your Grace.”
To his horror, his mother laughed. Nay, she smothered a laugh, but not before he caught it. He shot her a look and she grew serious in response.
Georgie, on the other hand, gave him a triumphant grin. “I told you, did I not?” She turned to his mother. “I informed His Grace that all women want at least some elegance and charm from a future husband, no matter how ambitious or proper the lady might be. Don’t you agree?”
He turned to his mother as well, hoping against hope that she would come to his defense, as silly as that was. He didn’t need anyone defending him, let alone his mother. Still, he wouldn’t mind hearing his mother put her in her place when he could not.
But his mother shot him a regretful grimace. “I’m afraid she may have a point, dear.”
“What?” It came out as an inelegant sputter. “You know better than anyone that this is not about—”
“Yes, yes,” his mother held up a hand to silence him. “But you may face competition for some of the better prospects.”
“Competition?” He’d uttered it as though he’d never heard the word before. As though it were a foreign dialect.
“It seems you’re not the only duke searching for a bride this season,” she said. “And then there’s the Earl of Dunlop, who is back in England. Not exactly an unappealing option for these ladies, I might add.”
That went without saying. Dunlop was a legendary charmer, with the kind of handsome features that made the women swoon.
“Oh no, not at all a bad choice,” Georgie said with far too much emphasis.
He despised the way Georgie had said that. Almost as though she herself had hopes of ensnaring this Dunlop fellow. He spent so long scowling at her that he nearly missed the fact that a decision had apparently been made without him.
His mother was already making plans as she moved away toward the door.
Georgie glanced between his mother and him, clearly torn over whether to stay or go. The duchess made the decision for her. “Come along, Miss Cleveland. I need your help with planning.”
The smile she flashed was impish. Mischievous. It spoke of a challenge and a battle that was far from over.
He watched the skirts of her gown disappear around the corner of the open doorway and stood gazing after her for far too long.
He’d never be able to concentrate on his work now. Not with the way they had left things, even more unsettled than before. This—whatever this was between them—it was far from over.
Chapter Nine
Georgie theoretically helped her sister to dress for dinner that evening, but in reality she was lost in thought. No, she was drowning in memories. That was a far more apt description of this particular form of torment.
“Ow.” Claire reached up to rub her scalp and gave Georgie a chastening look in the mirror. “Do keep in mind that I’m not a pin cushion, won’t you?”
Georgie winced. “Sorry.” She had dismissed Claire’s maid to do her hair herself. Not only was she better at it than Claire’s sweet but inexperienced lady’s maid, but she’d hoped the simple, menial task would soothe her rattled nerves.
Rattled nerves were a new experience for her, and one she didn’t enjoy.
“Are you worried about the soiree this weekend?” her sister asked.
Claire had asked any number of questions since she’d arrived in her room. Each more specific than the next. Is something bothering you, Georgie? Are you quite all right? Was it something you ate that has you looking so ill?
She shook her head. “Of course not. You know I love soirees.”
“Mmm.” Her sister regarded her in the mirror. “But most aren’t thrown in an effort to dispel rumors about you.”
Her gaze shot up to meet her sister’s, which was far too knowing.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said quickly, her hands stilling in her sister’s hair lest she accidentally cause more harm. “Everyone knows those rumors are unfounded.”
Claire widened her eyes. “Oh, of course, dear, I know that.”
Georgie caught her breath at an unexpected pain. Yes, of course her sister knew that, just like the duchess knew it. Everyone in the world knew she was no match for a duke. He’d made that exceptionally clear himself.
“Georgie, what is it?”
The kindness in Claire’s voice was very nearly her undoing. “Oh, what is the matter with me?” Her voice wobbled as she said it. Becoming a watering pot was not in her nature. She did not wallow, just as she didn’t simper or swoon.
She was a Cleveland, which meant she held her head high, no matter what rumors swirled about.
Claire turned to face her. “Is it the rumors, Georgie?” Her eyes were pleading. “Are you afraid they’ve ruined your chances with Lord Malcolm?”
Georgie started at his name and then flushed with guilt. So much had happened that night and she never had gotten around to telling her sister about it. Mainly because telling her anything would mean telling her everything. Once Georgie started talking, she rarely knew when to stop.
And right now the words threatened to burst out of her. “I do not care for Lord Malcolm.” She clamped her lips shut. Drat. Now there was no stopping it.
Claire had but to raise her brows in question and she was off, the words tumbling off her lips as she recounted what had happened.
Everything. Even that kiss.
By the end, Claire stared at her with eyes wide with disbelief. “He didn’t,” she breathed.
She knew which “he” she meant. Lord Malcolm’s behavior might have been shocking, but it was Roxborough’s actions that truly boggled the mind.
She gave a short nod. “He did. But please don’t tell Nicholas.”
It went without saying that her sister wouldn’t tell anyone else, but her husband was a different matter. They were thick as thieves, with no secrets between them.
That was what she wanted in life. An ally. A friend. Someone who saw her as more than a plaything, like Lord Malcolm. Someone who wanted more from her than a business contract like Roxborough with his intended.
She wanted it all, she supposed. Was that so much to ask?
Claire stared for so long Georgie was mildly afraid she’d sent her sister into a state of shock. Finally, Claire said, “So there is some truth to the rumors.”
Georgie gave an unladylike snort. “Of course not, you said so yourself.”
Claire frowned at her. “That was before I knew he’d kissed you! Imagine, the great, righteous Roxborough losing his senses, and in public, no less.”
“Yes, well, losing his senses is an apt way of viewing it. And kiss or no kiss, it doesn’t change the fact that I am not good enough for him.”
There. She’s said it. What everyone had inferred and what she had always known.
Claire shot up out of her seat, folding her arms with a look of challenge. “What do you mean by that?”
She sighed. “It’s the reason no one would believe the rumors, is it not? No one believes that Roxborough could ever have an interest in me, and rightly so.” She shot her sister a look when she was about to protest. “You said as much yourself when you agreed that no one would believe it.”
“I meant that I didn’t believe you would be interested in him.”
Georgie stared at her sister for a moment before moving over to the dresser to fiddle with the brushes there. “Oh.”
She wasn’t quite certain why that comment caught her off guard.
Her sister’s voice behind her sounded mildly alarmed. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”
“Of course not!” She said it so quickly even she didn’t quite believe her answer. But really, the thought of it was ridiculous. She spun around to face Claire.
“Of course not,” Claire echoed, but amusement made her lips twitch suspiciously.
Georgie narrowed her yes. “I am not interested.”
“Yes, you’ve already s
aid as much.”
“I’m not!”
“I know.” But Claire still smirked and that smug smile set Georgie off with another riotous wave of…whatever that feeling was that had her so unsettled.
Unsettled. That was it. She was merely unsettled by the way they’d left things today. The duchess had interrupted before he could—
Kiss her.
No. That wasn’t what she’d wanted at all.
The duchess had interrupted before he could apologize. And she was most certainly due an apology after the way he’d made assumptions about her character and then taken liberties.
Not that she’d particularly minded the liberties, but he’d made it abundantly clear that he did not respect her. He’d kissed her out of anger, and perhaps because he’d had too much to drink. He may have denied it but it made sense that inebriation factored into that kiss. She’d smelled it on his breath, and she knew well the way it made her brothers act—namely, without thought.
But no matter what his reasons for kissing her—
Because I wanted to.
His voice rang in her ears as surely as if he’d spoken them just now in Claire’s bedroom. She shook her head to clear it of low, rumbling, haunting voices.
He hadn’t meant it. Of course he hadn’t. Much as his answer might have thrilled her when he’d said it, reality had returned as the duchess spoke.
No, as the duchess assumed. Just as Claire assumed. No one in their right mind would think it. The two of them together? Laughable, to be sure.
Because I wanted to.
She drew in a deep breath as the words taunted her. He may have said those words but she knew better than to believe them. Likely the controlling, proper duke just hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d been three sheets to the wind.
Funny how that realization had brought on a wave of the weepies, as she was beginning to think of it.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you were,” Claire said.
Georgie blinked at her. “If I were what?”
“Interested in him.” Claire’s voice was kind, her tone sweet, and her eyes filled with unbearable understanding.
A Duke’s Distraction_Devilish Lords Page 9