She turned, trembling, and met his gaze over the top of Lady Wylde’s head. He didn’t look at all like a notorious rake with a seductress in his lapoughtto look. He wasn’t flushed or panting, and his full, sensuous lips were pressed into astraight line.
Instead of expiring with passion, he looked…irritated. “You remember Miss Harley from your masque ball, Lady Wylde?”
He jerked his chin toward Georgiana, and Lady Wylde glanced over her shoulder.“Miss Harley?”
“Yes.” Lord Haslemere wrapped his hands around Lady Wylde’s waist, lifted her from his lap and deposited her on the settee beside him with an unceremonious plop.“Miss Harley.”
“Miss Harley,” Lady Wylde repeated in a flat tone. “Of course, I remember her, my lord. The ball was just last night.”
If Lady Wylde was embarrassed by her wanton behavior, she gave no sign of it. She rose leisurely to her feet, a pout on her lips, and took her time neatening her hair and smoothing her skirtsover her hips.
“How do you do, my…” Georgiana began, but trailed off into silence as she took in her ladyship’s ensemble. She was in dishabille, which wasn’t terribly suspiring given the hour, but this particular gown wasn’t so muchdishabille as…
Invisible? Transparent? Less an article of clothing, and more a…suggestionof one?
Georgiana stared, her face on fire, but everywhere she looked she found something else that made her cheeks burn. Lady Wylde’s rouged cheeks and lips, the carefully arranged curls just brushing the tops of her breasts, and…Georgiana gasped.
DearGod, was that…
It was. Lady Wylde had rouged more than just her cheeks and lips. Georgiana gaped at her bosom, then toreher gaze away.
“Why, how lovely, Miss Harley, to see you again.” Lady Wylde regarded Georgiana with hard, glittering blue eyes. “It’s curious, though. I’d never heard your name or been introduced to you at any of the entertainments in London before last night, and now you seem to beeverywhere. Wherever did you findher, my lord?”
It was the sort of veiled attack common among theton, but Georgiana wasn’t accustomed to the aristocratic thrust and parry. She had no idea how to respond, but she was saved from having to say anything at all by Lord Haslemere’s drawl.
“Oh, here or there. The usual places one findsyoung ladies.”
“What, at Almack’s?” Lady Wylde snickered. “I’m afraid the marriage mart must be terribly dull foryou, my lord.”
“The marriage mart!” Georgiana meant to hold her tongue, but she didn’t care for being batted about between Lord Haslemere and Lady Wylde as if she were a shuttlecock. “You’re quite mistaken, I assure—”
“We don’t wish to waste your time, Lady Wylde.” Lord Haslemere shot a quelling look at Georgiana. “Perhaps I should explain why we’ve come today.”
Lady Wylde flounced over to a chair near the fire and fell into it with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, perhaps you’d better. Quickly, if you please, my lord. I’ve another engagementthis morning.”
“Yes, I realize you’re in great demand.” A lazy smile twitched at Lord Haslemere’s lips. “You’re very good to indulge me. It’s about my sister and Lord Draven.”
Lady Wylde perked up considerably at mention of the gossip, but she did her best to hide it under a veneer of concern. “Oh, my poor, dear Lord Haslemere. I’m very sorry, but it was inevitable you’d hear of it sooner or later. Everyone in London is whispering about it,” she added with relish.
“Yes, Londondoeswhisper, doesn’t it? I don’t concern myself much with rumors, my lady, but you said something last night that does interest me. You said it was inevitable my sister and Lord Draven would fall into each other’s arms again, given their past. I wondered what you meant by it.”
The pleasant smile on Lord Haslemere’s face didn’t falter, but his jaw had tightened. It was subtle—imperceptible to anyone not watching him closely—but Georgiana was watching him, and all at once she realized that despite his show of indifference, hewas very angry.
Lady Wylde didn’t appear to notice it, however, and waved a careless hand in the air. “Oh, well, as to that, I’m sure I don’t know what I meant. Nothing at all, really. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
“No, I won’t. Not yet.”
Georgiana’s brow rose at his audacity, but Lady Wylde didn’t seem at all irked at being ordered about in her own sitting room. Quite the contrary. Her lips parted and she sucked in a breath, her impressive bosom heaving. “Alas, my lord, I know only what everyone else inLondon knows.”
“Come now, Lady Wylde. How long have we been friends?” Lord Haslemere crooned in silky tones, his lips curling in the barest hint of a smile. “Youalwayshave more information than anyone else.”
Lady Wylde preened under Lord Haslemere’s sultry half-smile. “But surely you’ve heard the story yourself?”
“Of course not. A brother is always the last to hear any unflattering gossip about his sister.”
“No, my lord, ahusbandis.” Lady Wylde smirked. “Very well then, it’s just this. The gossips have it that Lord Draven has been in love with your sister for years, ever since they were introduced at his father’s house party. It was some years ago, but surely you remember that party?”
“I vaguely recall it. I didn’t attend, but one of Jane’s schoolfriends who was a distant cousin of Lord Draven’s invited her. It was Jane’s first house party. She came out the following season, which means…let’s see, that must have been about six years ago. Is that your recollection, my lady?”
