“Chocolate. Lots of chocolate. He said that Melinda Wendell would roll with an ox for a good box of chocolates.”
He and Bradshaw were going to have a talk about what got said in front of Edward; this was getting out of hand. “Did Shaw say that to you, specifically?”
Looking sheepish, Edward grinned. “No, he said it to Andrew, when Andrew was trying to get Barbara Jamison to roll with him. I’d like to go rolling. It sounds fun.”
“When you’re older. And never mention rolling to Georgiana, all right?”
“Doesn’t she like rolling?”
Given her response the other night, she liked it very much. “Rolling, Runt, is something only men discuss, and only with other men. In fact, only with your brothers. Understood?”
“Yes, Dare. Not even with the aunties?”
“Good God, no.”
“All right.”
“Thank you for the idea about the flowers, though. I may try that.”
“I think you should. I like Georgiana.”
“So do I.” When he didn’t want to strangle her.
Arguing with her had practically become foreplay now. Yes, she made him furious, and frustrated. Mostly, though, he just wanted to roll with her. A lot.
Chapter 13
Author’s Note: There will be no chapter thirteen. It is my feeling that Tristan and Georgiana have enough work cut out for them without adding unlucky numbers into the mix.
Chapter 14
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
—Henry the Fifth, Act III, Scene i
Georgiana Halley was intelligent and suspicious—especially of him—so the way to defeat her was to keep her off-balance. Tristan sat opposite her in his coach, newly washed and sprung, and gazed out the window into the darkness. This was a war, no doubt about it, and it was one he intended to win.
Of course a complete victory would mean no less than marrying her: She’d set the stakes that high when she’d climaxed in his arms and then left him with a gift, as though he were some sort of cock-bawd. Making her his would leave him the ultimate winner and keep her from escaping him and his bed again.
The only question was how to go about it. He enjoyed her company, and he desired her body. She desired him, but he wasn’t certain that she actually liked him. Whatever his machinations, he had to convince her to say yes. At least she’d agreed to join him tonight.
“I wasn’t aware that any boxes were still available for rent at Vauxhall this far into the Season.”
The Dowager Duchess of Wycliffe, looking even more aloof than Georgiana, had been glaring at him since he arrived to escort them, as if she expected him to expire under her close scrutiny. He needed her there to ensure Georgie’s presence. Other than that, he barely noted her glassy, disapproving gaze.
Even her underlying implication that she had no idea where he might have gotten the money to rent a box left him annoyed only for a moment. “The Marquis of St. Aubyn had to leave London for the week,” he improvised. “He loaned me his box.”
“You associate with St. Aubyn?”
Uh-oh. “I know him.”
She didn’t seem to count that as a point in his favor. “And so he simply offered?”
“Yes.” After Tristan had won fifty quid off him at faro. “And of course my first thought was of you and Georgiana.”
“But I was under the impression that your aunts would be accompanying us,” the duchess said, her tone becoming even more accusing.
