“Hello.”
He took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, and straightened again. His eyes met hers, and along with the tingling arousal she always felt in his presence, something colder touched the edges of her heart. “What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk sometime this evening.” Emma and Bradshaw approached, and he released her hand. “Not now, though.”
That was enough to set her mind flying in all directions. Knowing Tristan, anything might have happened. Someone had pieced together the wagering sheet, and the mess had begun all over again, or someone had realized that more than personal affront had caused Lord Dare’s angry reaction to the wager, and by morning she would be completely ruined. Or he’d learned of Westbrook’s proposal, and had killed the marquis.
All through dinner and their subsequent games of Commerce and charades, she worried. Tristan seemed his usual charming, witty self, and even drew reluctant laughter from Aunt Frederica. This was too hard. Being in love wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. Of course, that was probably only true when the two people in question were completely unspotted and had never hurt, argued with, or deceived one another. Georgiana sighed. Westbrook had offered her that, and she had the feeling it would be deathly boring.
She was seated on the floor helping Edward sketch Bradshaw’s ship, which he’d decided to call the Storm Cloud, when a hand touched her shoulder. Even though she’d been expecting it all evening, she jumped.
“Excuse me, Runt,” Tristan drawled, “but I need to speak with Georgie for a moment.”
“But we’re drawing Bradshaw’s new ship,” Edward protested.
“Did I lose my old ship?” Bradshaw asked, leaning over to view the picture as Tristan helped Georgiana to her feet.
“This is the one for you to captain,” his youngest brother explained.
“Then might I suggest more lifeboats?” Shaw returned, sending a glance at Tristan as he slid down to take Georgiana’s place on the floor.
She felt the eyes of all the room’s occupants on her back as she and Tristan exited the drawing room, but no one said anything. She wondered how much they really knew about her convoluted relationship with Lord Dare. By now they had at least to suspect.
Her heart began thumping even harder when Tristan led her into Grey’s billiards room and latched the door behind them. “Please tell me what’s happened before I have an apoplexy,” she asked, trying to read his expression.
He strode up to her and took both her shoulders in his hands.
“What—”
Tristan leaned down and kissed her, tilting her head back with the ferocity of his embrace. Her hips went back against the edge of the billiards table, reminding her that she’d been thrown from a horse recently, but she didn’t want him to stop. No one but Tristan made her feel so…possessed, and made her enjoy the sensation so much.
He devoured her, left her breathless and weak-kneed, as though he’d embraced her with his entire being instead of just his mouth. When he finally drew back, she leaned into his chest, wrapping her fingers into his lapels. “My goodness,” she breathed. “And I thought all your secrecy meant something ill was afoot.”
“Something ill is afoot,” he said quietly. “You won’t like it, or me, after I tell you, and I wanted to kiss you this one last time, at least.”
“Now I’m worried,” she said, still clutching him. Dread wrapped cold fingers around her heart. “Tell me.”
Tristan drew in a deep breath. “I had a visitor last night. Early this morning, actually.”
“A visitor?”
“In my bedchamber.”
“Oh.” He’d found another lover. Deep, sharp jealousy stung her, and she let him go. “Thank you for telling me. At least you did it in private, which is more than I exp—”
“Wh…No! No. That’s not…” He took another breath. “It was Amelia Johns, Georgie. She pounced on me while I was dead asleep.”
“Amelia? I can’t believe that! She’s just a child.”
“No, she isn’t.”
“But—”
“Trust me—I can lay that misconception to rest. She’s very much full-grown.” He ran his fingers along the neckline of her gown, as though he couldn’t stop touching her, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
“What happened, then?”
“I shrieked in a very ungentlemanly manner and threw her out of the house.”
