“If you must know, I’ve come to return George’s belongings, which she thoughtlessly left behind in our cabin.”
Georgina groaned inwardly after a quick glance at her brothers. That “our” had stood out like a flashing beacon on a moonless night, and not one of them had missed the implication. She’d been right in her first assumption. Her downfall was imminent, especially since James at his nastiest was embarrassing in the extreme, but he was obviously going for blood. She might as well dig a hole and bury herself.
“I can explain—” she began to tell her brothers, but didn’t think she’d get far, and she was right.
“I’d rather hear Malory explain.” Warren’s tone was barely under control, much less his anger.
“But—”
“So would I,” Drew was next to interrupt, his tone no longer reasonable, either.
Georgina, quite understandably, lost her temper at that point. “Blast you both! Can’t you see he’s deliberately looking for a fight? You ought to recognize the signs, Warren. You do the same thing all the time.”
“Would someone mind telling me what is going on here?” Clinton demanded.
Georgina was almost glad to see him arrive, and with Thomas beside him. Maybe, just maybe, James might feel it would be prudent now to desist in his assassination of her reputation. She had little doubt that was his intention. She just didn’t know why.
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” Thomas asked her, putting his arm protectively around her shoulders.
She just had time to nod before James said mockingly, “Sweetheart?”
“Don’t even think of going that route again, James Malory,” she warned in a furious undertone. “This is my brother Thomas.”
“And the mountain?”
“My brother Clinton,” she gritted out.
James merely shrugged. “The mistake was natural, considering there’s no family resemblance. Which was it, different mothers, or fathers?”
“You’re a fine one to talk about resemblance, when your brother is as dark as sin.”
“Anthony will appreciate the simile, indeed he will. And I’m delighted to know you remember meeting him, George. He wouldn’t have forgotten you either…no more than I would have.”
She could be forgiven for missing the implication of that statement, as upset as she was. And Clinton was still waiting for an explanation, if the sharp clearing of his throat was any indication. Boyd beat her to it.
“He’s the captain of the ship Georgie left England on, and English to boot.”
“I’d already detected that much. Isthatwhy you’re putting on this little show for our guests?”
The condemnation in Clinton’s tone left Boyd shamefaced and silent, but Drew took up where he left off. “We didn’t start this, Clint. The bastard was insulting Georgie the moment he walked into the room.”
James’s lips curled disdainfully. “By remarking that I prefer the darling girl in breeches? That’s a matter of opinion, dear boy, hardly an insult.”
“That wasn’t exactly how you put it, Malory, and you know it,” Warren told him in a furious hiss. “And that’s not the only rubbish he’s been spouting, Clinton. He’s also made the ridiculous claim that Georgina’s belongings were kept inhiscabin, implying—”
“Well, of course they were,” James interrupted quite mildly. “Where else would her belongings be? She was, after all, my cabin boy.”
He could have said lover, Georgina reminded herself as she lost every bit of color in her face. That would have been worse, but not by much.
While each of her brothers was looking at her to deny it, all she could do was stare at James. There was no triumph in his eyes, still as frigid as before. She was afraid that last thrust wasn’t the final one yet.
“Georgina?”
Her thoughts clattered desperately this way and that, but could find no way to get out of the dilemma James had put her in, short of lying, which was out of the question with him standing there.
“It’s a long story, Clinton. Can’t it wait until lat—”
“Now!”
