“Because you’re here.”
“Hush,” she ordered. “You’ll have everyone talking about us.”
“Everyone already is,” Lucinda said, grinning. “The two of you are the talk of London.”
For the first time, Tristan looked around the room. They did seem to be the object of conversation. Well, so be it. She wasn’t going to escape him again, either because of his folly or her stubbornness. And this kind of rumor could only help his chances.
“Don’t be silly, Luce. He only wants my money.”
Lucinda paled, her eyes darting in his direction. “Georgie, you shouldn’t say such things.”
Tristan clamped down his sudden anger. He’d heard such talk before, of course; once he’d even overheard several ladies discussing whether his services in the bedchamber could be bought. That had been quite the evening.
But Georgiana had never mentioned his finances to anyone, that he knew of—and even if she was joking, he didn’t appreciate it one damned bit.
Carefully he extracted his arm from her grip. “Miss Barrett, if you would tend to Lady Georgiana, I’ve promised a dance to Miss Johns.” He sketched a shallow bow. “Ladies.”
Before he could move away, Georgie gripped his sleeve again. “Dare.”
He stopped, looking down at her coolly. “Yes?”
“Luce, go away,” Georgiana murmured.
Miss Barrett complied, looking relieved to escape unscathed. The mutterings around them grew louder, but he didn’t give a damn about that. People would talk; the only thing he could do was to make certain they had nothing more serious than an argument to speculate over. He and Georgiana argued all the time, anyway.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t serious, and it was mean.”
He forced a careless shrug. “It was true—partly. But money’s not all I want from you, Georgiana, and you know it.”
“I know what you tell me, but I don’t know what I believe. You’ve tricked me before.”
“And you’ve tricked me, haven’t you?” he returned in a low voice. “So how shall I prove it to you?”
As he spoke, he realized that this may have been just what she was waiting for: to force him to declare his intentions toward and affection for her before the world, so she could laugh at him and humiliate him in public. And because he couldn’t resist being near her, touching her, he’d fallen right into her trap.
She sighed. “I don’t know what to think, sometimes.”
Tristan made his shoulders relax. “Don’t think so much. I never do.”
She gave a short laugh. “Drat, I don’t have a fan. If my bottom felt better, I would kick you.”
A slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If your bottom felt better, I would suggest several far more pleasant things for us to do together.” Looking down at her, he just barely resisted running a finger along her cheek. “I want you,” he murmured. “Badly.”
Georgiana swallowed. “You’re just trying to make me blush. It won’t work, so stop it.”
“I don’t want you to blush,” he continued in the same low voice. “I want you to call out my name, and come for me.”
“Shut up,” she enunciated unsteadily. “You’re obviously mad.”
His smile deepened. This seemed to be working well, though he was becoming rather uncomfortable. “Say you’ll go for a walk with me tomorrow in Covent Garden, and I’ll stop.”
“I’m having tea with Lu—”
“And I want to feel your warm skin under my fingers, and your body beneath mine, my Georgi—”
“All right!” Blushing deep red, she yanked him toward the refreshment table. “Be by at ten sharp, or I will kick you the next time I set eyes on you.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
