Page 110 of Lyon of Least Resistance

Cordelia took Georgiana’s hand and drew her toward the stairs.

“Hold right there!” Sir Iain cried. “Give me satisfaction, Bedford, or I’ll tell the good people here of the scandalous deeds that would ruin your family in a heartbeat.”

“Tell and be damned, Leaney,” James said. “I’ll not succumb to extortion, nor will I tolerate disrespect toward my wife and sister. I no longer care not what you—or anyone else—thinks of us.”

Cordelia glanced at her husband. Was he acting out of bravado? Surely he didn’t want her past sins to be revealed to his friends?

Sir Iain curled his lip in a sneer and gestured toward Earl Stiles. “Tell me, good man, what do you think the Honorable Georgiana Bedford has been doing, fleeing in the night unchaperoned with the man she’s been lusting after all summer?”

Leonard drew in a sharp breath, and Sir Iain laughed.

“She’d never look at you, Marlow. You’re a mere boy—a slut such as Georgiana Bedford wants a real man between her thighs.”

“That’s enough!” James yelled, his eyes gleaming with anger. “Do you want me to call you out for abducting my sister?”

“She’s a lightskirts”—Sir Iain laughed—“who’s learned a trick or two from that whore you married.”

Nausea rose in Cordelia’s stomach. Curling her hands into fists, she drew in a lungful of air to dissipate the dizziness in her head.

“I say, old chap,” Sir George said, “there’s no need for that kind of talk with ladies present.”

“Not even if I speak the truth?”

“Sir Iain, that’s enough!” James said, and Cordelia’s heart almost broke at the despair in his eyes. She cast her gaze over the guests. James’s friends—decent, respectable folk who, if they knew of her past, would shun and vilify him.

In a matter of minutes, the man she loved would be a pariah. The whole family would be connected with disgrace and scandal.

Then James exhaled sharply and his eyes darkened with resolve. He turned to face the party.

“Let me tell the truth,” he said.

“James, no…” Cordelia began, but he lifted her hand to his lips.

“My darling, if your past is to be revealed, then let it be done by he who loves you.”

He who loves you…

“Bedford, you really are an utter—” Sir Iain began, but Stiles stepped forward.

“Desist,” he said, his deep voice resonating throughout the hall. “Let Viscount Bedford speak. He has that right, given that we’re guests in his home, though I suspect you’ve outstayed your welcome.”

“Very well,” Sir Iain said, grinning. “Speak and be damned, Bedford.”

James drew Cordelia into his arms and she clung to him, trembling in anticipation of the disgust of every soul in the room.

“Sir Iain wishes to tell you that my wife is a whore,” he said. “And that is exactly what she was before we married.”

“Sweet Lord!” Lady Marlow said, then was quickly shushed by Sir George.

“I first met my wife in the Lyon’s Den,” James continued, “an establishment that I know that some of you have frequented. She was one of the doxies earning a living there by meeting the needs of men like us. I’m not ashamed to say that I paid for her services many times when I visited the Lyon’s Den. And I fell in love.”

“With a doxy?” Sir George said.

James nodded. “Have you never taken a doxy, Sir George?”

The man colored and glanced at his wife. She let out a huff.

“We both know you did before we married, George,” she said. “How else would you have learned to do that thing with the chocolate sauce that—”