Page 50 of Lyon of Least Resistance

Margaret, her eyes widening, glanced from him to Georgiana, then her gaze settled on Cordelia and she tilted her head to one side.

“What’s a slut?”

“Margaret, go back inside,” James said.

“But I want to meet—”

“Now!” he roared. “Or did I not make myself clear?”

Margaret’s cheeks reddened and her lower lip wobbled. Then she pulled a face and sprinted toward the house, her sobs filtering through the air against the backdrop of the servants’ whispers.

“I asked you to explain yourself, Georgiana,” James said.

“I don’t see why I must—”

“Because I’m the head of this family and you must do as I say.”

“Very well,” Georgiana said, casting a glance at Cordelia then wrinkling her nose. “I had a caller.”

“A gentleman?”

A slight color stained her cheeks. “A baronet, if you must know.”

Hell—that was all he needed. It must be that arse Sir Iain Leaney. But he was handsome enough, and marriage to a baronet would satisfy Georgiana’s vanity.

“You need not fear for my respectability,” Georgiana continued. “I know how to behave properly. Miss Flight chaperoned me. He took tea and then left. But not before he told me about the den of sin where you found your wife. Tell me, is it frequented by gamesters?”

“Georgiana, I hardly think that’s any of your concern.”

“It’s very much my concern if, rather than court a respectable woman befitting your rank, you indulge in a sordid game to win a woman of doubtful reputation in a”—she wrinkled her nose—“a gaming hell that also operates as a bawdy house.”

A gasp came from his right, and James glanced at his wife. But her expression betrayed nothing, save for a narrowing of her eyes.

Dear Lord—had Cordelia serviced Sir Iain? What of the other gentlemen who lived hereabouts? Had she spread her legs for them also?

Georgiana let out a huff and rolled her eyes. “You ought to look more pleased than that, brother. A baronet is a suitable match for a viscount’s sister. Though I question whether a whore is a suitable match for a viscount.”

Cordelia tightened her grip on James’s hand and Georgiana let out a little huff.

“Do I speak the truth, Lady Bedford?”

Cordelia glanced at James as if seeking reassurance. Then she nodded.

“Your brother and I were matched at the Lyon’s Den.”

“And are you a doxy?”

James stiffened, tempering his anger, but before he could admonish Georgiana, his wife nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “At least, I was.”

“Until you snared a viscount.”

“Desist!” James cried. “Pas devant les domestiques, Georgiana. Did not Miss Flight tell you that?”

“The servants have every right to know that you’ve brought a slut into the Bedford family home.”

“That slut, as you call her, will be funding your debut and providing you with a dowry in order to tempt a baronet into offering for you, Georgiana—and you’ll be in sore need of that dowry, whether earned through immoral means or not.”