Page 22 of The Virgin Who Humbled Lord Haslemere
Georgiana blinked down at him as she turned over his question. Now why should Lord Draven, of all people, want to prod into the duchess’s affairs? If what she’d heard tonight was true, there was little about the duchess Lord Draven didn’t already know.
Of course, it might not be true. “You said one more question, my lord. That’s your second.”
“Indulge me, Miss Harley.” He arched an eyebrow, waiting.
“Why should Lord Draven ask me to prod into your sister’s affairs, Lord Haslemere?” Georgiana asked, thinking quickly. He might know something she didn’t. If he did, this might be her only chance to workit out of him.
But he saw at once what she was about. “Very clever, Miss Harley,” he murmured, one corner of his lips quirking. “But you know the answer to that question already. You were at Lady Wylde’s ball this evening. You heard the gossip about Lord Dravenand my sister.”
“Not by choice.” Georgiana loathed gossip and gossipmongers, and went out of her way to avoid hearing their ugly slurs, but the Duchess of Kenilworth and Lord Draven’s names had been on everyone’slips tonight.
Lord Haslemere’s dark eyes flashed. “How noble of you. But I’m herbrother, and even I couldn’t stir a step without overhearing some fool or other discussing my sister’s torrid affair with the Earl of Draven. It seemed to me you were as interested in the gossip about her aseveryone else.”
Georgiana’s stomach clenched with alarm. Lord Darlington had warned her Lord Haslemere would call out Draven if he thought the man had insulted his sister. She wasn’t worried for Lord Haslemere, of course,it was just…well, no one wanted to see a young man sliced open by a sword or felled by a pistol ball in some ridiculous duel, did they?
She might have a wicked tongue, but she didn’t have a wicked heart. “It’s likely just that, my lord. Gossip, without a drop of truth to it.”
Perhaps he saw a softening in her face, because he stepped closer—so close she felt a surge of heat despite the cold, damp air. “Perhaps, but I know my sister, Miss Harley. Something is amiss, and I think you know what it is. If you’re truly concerned for her, then you’ll tell me all you know so Ican help her.”
It wasn’t that simple, however. Georgiana was concerned for the duchess, but she’d given her word, and she wasn’t going to break it, no matter how persuasive Lord Haslemere was. “When your sister wants your help, my lord, surely she’ll ask for it.”
He looked up at her for a long time without speaking, then he said, “You asked me once if I ever took anything seriously. I do. My sister’s and nephew’s well-being are of the utmost importance to me. More so than my own. You’d do well to keep that in mind, princess.”
It wasn’tquitea threat, but itwas a warning.
Georgiana rushed up the remaining steps and through the door, shivers running up her spine from the heat of his gaze boring into her back. At last she gained the entryway and pulled the door closed, putting the thick slab of wood between herself andLord Haslemere.
Yet she felt none of the relief she’d anticipated. She rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers brushing over the spray of gooseflesh there, but she could still feel his dark gaze on her as palpably as a touch, as if it were his hand there, instead of her own.
Chapter Six
When Benedict was a boy, his mother once told him his smile would be both the making of him and his destruction. One quick tilt of his lips, and people—ladies, in particular—would wish to please him, and rush to do his bidding. Her prediction had proved to be true for the most part, but his mother hadn’t counted on Georgiana Harley.
Neither had Benedict, because here he was, standing on the street outside the Clifford School, peering up at a closed, locked door.
What the devil had just happened? He’d pulled every weapon from his arsenal tonight. His most charming grin, his most sweetly persuasive tone of voice, a flirtatious wink, and a few judiciously applied sweeps of his eyelashes…why, he’d never been more irresistible in his life.
But all he’d gotten for his trouble was an aching jaw from smiling. He’d done so much twitching and grinning that by the time she left him, Miss Harley’s expression had turned wary, as if she thought he were having some sort of fit.
His coachman, Grigg, was waiting across the street with his carriage. Benedict waved him on, preferring to turn the mystery of Georgiana Harley over in his mind on a walk back to Berkeley Square.
Half a mile later, he still couldn’t understand how it had all gone so terribly wrong, but one thing was certain. It was all Georgiana Harley’s fault. The confounded woman had as much sensibility as ablock of ice.
It had been a perfect disaster of an evening. He could salvage it still—it was just past midnight now, early by Benedict’s standards—but after his humiliation at Georgiana Harley’s hands, he wasn’t in the mood for a debauch with his friends.
He stormed through the front door of his townhouse and marched down the hallway to his study. He wanted a fire, a glass of brandy, andsilence,in that order—
“Ah, here you are, Haslemere.” A tall, broad-shouldered shape detached itself from the fireplace when he entered. “I thought I was going to have to search all over London for you.”
A curse left Benedict’s lips. How had he not noticed Darlington’s carriage waiting outside his townhouse? If he had, he would have ducked into the mews, gone in through the kitchens, and sneaked upstairs to his bedchamber.
Cowardly, yes,but effective.
But it was too bloody late now. “Well, you’ve found me, and right here in my own study. Clever of you, Darlington. What do you want?”
Darlington raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dark scowl, Haslemere. What’s gotten you intosuch a temper?”
“I’m not in a bloody temper.” Benedictwasin a temper—as foul a temper as he could ever recall, and the worst of it was, he knew he was being absurd. Was he truly falling into fits because he’d found one lady in London who wasn’t charmed by him? It wasn’t as ifhewascharmed byher.
