Thank God. Georgiana tugged him forward, touching her lips to his. “Good.” She’d never felt she had much in common with Amelia, other than Tristan, and found she didn’t like the girl very much at all. She wondered how he would react, if she told him about Westbrook’s proposal.
“It doesn’t end there. She took something from my room.”
Georgie shook him, though she might as easily have moved a mountain. “What, for heaven’s sake?”
“Your letter. And your stockings.”
“My…” She blinked, a sudden roaring in her ears so loud she couldn’t hear, couldn’t think. Her knees buckled.
Cursing, Tristan caught her up against him, lifting her so she sat on the edge of the table. “Georgiana,” he whispered urgently, “don’t faint. Please don’t faint.”
Resting her head against his shoulder, she drew in a shaking breath. “I won’t. Oh, no. Oh, no. Why would she do that, Tristan?”
“Because she wants me to marry her.”
Georgiana looked up, light-headed and dizzy and beginning to think that safe, dull love might have some advantages, after all. “I don’t understand.”
“Who would have thought I was such a desirable catch?” he asked with a grim half smile. “She intends to reveal your—and my—indiscretion to the world unless I make her Lady Dare.”
“Why would she think she had to threaten you—me—like that?”
“Probably because I told her that I have no intention of marrying her.” He kissed her again, soft and slow, as though the embrace was something precious. “How could I tell her anything else, when you and I…when…I don’t want to ruin this?”
Tears welled in her eyes. She had her answer for Westbrook now.
“I have three days before I give her an answer, but you needed to know,” he continued.
Georgiana shook her head, searching madly for any logical reason that would mean this wasn’t happening. “She knows I was trying to help her. Even if you’ve changed your mind about her, she has to know that I didn’t intend for any such thing to happen.”
“I don’t think she cares about that, Georgie.”
“Of course she does,” she insisted. “You probably threatened her or something, didn’t you?”
He frowned. “Not at first.”
“You see, you just frightened her. She must have felt she had to keep those…items to protect herself from further injury by you.”
Tristan began to look annoyed. “I did not—”
“I’ll go see her, and explain that they don’t mean anything, but that I need them back to protect myself from scandal.”
“They don’t mean anything?” he repeated, tilting her chin up so she had to meet his glittering gaze.
Georgiana swallowed. “That’s what I’ll tell her. She’s female; she’ll understand.”
“She’s closer to a dragon than a female, but I don’t suppose I can talk you out of this.”
“No, you can’t.”
He kissed her again. My goodness. She could become very used to having him touching her and holding her. Sighing, she kissed him back, sliding her hands around his waist, under his jacket.
“You’re not angry with me?” he asked, kissing her again, more deeply.
“I’m not happy with this, of course, but I’m not mad at you. And I have something to tell you, too.”
“What?”
“Lord Westbrook proposed to me.”
