“I can’t imagine why,” she sniffed.
“Vingt-et-un,” Bit said, spreading out his cards for their view.
Tristan scowled at his brother, light blue eyes dancing. “Never trust the quiet ones.”
There it was again, that fond look with which he favored his family members from time to time. Georgiana cleared her throat, surprised to find that the intimacy and ease among the brothers could make her feel awkward—and annoyed at Dare for appearing to possess those kinder qualities.
In a strange way, it made him more…enticing. She was the seducer, she reminded herself. She was not there to be seduced. “I’m surprised you’re not at one of your clubs tonight, my lord. Surely your skill with cards could be put to better use there.”
He shrugged. “This is more fun.”
Apparently playing cards with an eight-year-old and a near mute was also more fun than attending the opera or going to Vauxhall Gardens or visiting one of his mistresses, or any of the other ways he typically spent his nights. If he was trying to impress her with his domesticity, though, it was a wasted effort. Nothing he did for the rest of his life would ever impress her, because she knew precisely what kind of man he truly was.
“So are you ever going to confess who sent you that letter this afternoon?” he asked, when they’d been playing for over an hour.
“It was unsigned,” she said, gathering the deck for her deal.
“A mystery, then,” he returned, leaning forward for his glass of brandy. “Any suspects?”
“I…have my suspicions,” she hedged, as she dealt them each two cards, faceup. For heaven’s sake, she’d only meant to plant the idea that she might have determined suitors willing to breach the masculine stronghold of Carroway House; she hadn’t expected the Spanish Inquisition.
“Who?” Tristan leaned his chin on his hand, gazing at her, while Robert signaled for an additional card.
Georgiana’s first instinct was to remind him that her business was none of his. The purpose of this exercise, though, was to make him fall in love with her. That being the case, she really needed to stop insulting him with every breath. “I wouldn’t wish to falsely implicate anyone,” she said, trying not to sound arch. “I will therefore reserve my response until further evidence should appear.”
“‘Further evidence,’” he repeated. “You mean the man himself? By all means, have him call on us.”
She scowled. “He wouldn’t be calling on you, for heaven’s s—”
“Vingt-et-un!” Edward shouted, bouncing up and down. “You two are never going to win if you keep making moony eyes at each other all night.”
Robert made a choking sound.
“Well,” she squeaked, feeling even less eloquent than Bit, “you’ve left me no hope of winning, Edward. I think I shall retire for the evening, gentlemen.”
The men stood when she did, Tristan nodding stiffly as she made what she hoped was a dignified exit. Once in the hallway, she gathered her skirt in her fists and fled up the stairs.
“Georgiana!”
Tristan’s deep voice stopped her on the landing.
“Well,” She faced him, determined to make light of Edward’s comment. “That was a surprise, wasn’t it?”
“He’s only eight,” Dare said flatly as he climbed toward her. “And if this keeps up, he won’t see nine. Don’t let an infant’s prattling upset you.”
“I…I…” She cleared her throat. “As I said, it just surprised me. I’m not upset. Really.”
“You’re not upset,” he repeated, gazing at her skeptically.
“No.”
“Good.” Grimacing, he ran his fingers through his dark hair, a gesture she had once found very attractive. “Because it’s not true. I want you to know that.”
At his serious tone, she leaned against the railing. “You want me to know what, my lord?”
“That I’m not mooning after you. I’m thinking of getting married, in fact.”
Ah-ha. “You are? Who is she? I’ll tender my congratulations.”
