Page 68 of Prince of Scandal

Miss March brightened. “Oh! Yes! Gigi, I must confess I shamelessly used your name today. We went to Bliss! I thought they would toss us out because we didn’t have an appointment, but I told the manager I was very good friends with Lady Georgiana, and your sister Lady Pinehurst was there. She was so agreeable, we got a tour of the pleasure toy factory and bought some special soft rope for binding wrists, one long quill feather, and a blindfold!”

Sir Alan cleared his throat. “Blossom.”

Miss March’s cheeks went scarlet. “Er…I mean…”

“When I’m naughty, I get a spanking,” said Georgiana airily. “Actually, I got one earlier and my bottom still hurts. That’s why I’m standing rather than sitting, but it doesn’t bother me because I had so many orgasms…oh, do not give me that look, Ashton. We’re among friends.”

The two women burst into giggles.

Ashton rubbed a hand across his face, but after exchanging a long-suffering glance with Sir Alan at the outrageousness of the minxes they’d fallen for, he almost smiled. Yes, they were among friends; trustworthy people they could share secrets and laugh with. And that was almost as wondrous as finding the right lady, especially within the snake pit that was Polite Society.

“Have you heard any news?” asked Sir Alan eventually. “Feel like I’m turning into one of those Runner chaps. Always looking out for clues or listening for certain names and whatnot. If Osbourne wasn’t so damned awful, a constable’s life might be rather interesting. Upholding the law. Catching the criminals.”

Ashton grimaced. “Nothing yet. The duke did say a few days, but I was hoping it might be sooner. Although Georgiana heard from a reliable source that things are definitely in motion. I think that is good, but also…”

“It makes Rupert more dangerous,” said Georgiana, as she finished her strudel.

“Exactly.”

“And I want to know what he’s doing in Surrey. I don’t believe for a second that he is visiting friends.”

Miss March tapped her chin. “He might be. But it’s what he’s doing with those friends that could be the problem.”

Ashton went still. Of course! How had he not thought of this before? A man like Osbourne wouldn’t work alone. He couldn’t work alone. He liked to brag too much. There must be a group of men he shared stories with. People he’d learned things from. Who encouraged or even assisted him, maybe even provided an alibi for him. A man as arrogant as Osbourne would explode if he had to remain silent, especially for actions as monstrously successful as the blackmail and killing of three society women.

“That is,” he said slowly, “a most excellent point, Miss March.”

“For heaven’s sake, call me Phoebe,” she replied. “And I know. You may thank my favored reading material. In every gothic novel I have devoured, the villain always has helpers. Sometimes friends, sometimes a mad uncle, sometimes a murderous housekeeper. But even if they are a loner, they never work alone.”

Sir Alan nodded and dabbed his lips with his handkerchief. “Must be quite high up, these friends. Plenty of power or money. Otherwise, all this would have come out, surely. But if I recall correctly, Osbourne went duke’s daughter, lord’s daughter, merchant’s daughter. So even though he got bolder with his demands, his prey had less clout.”

“Except for me,” said Georgiana, her expression troubled. “But then he thinks I’m pregnant. Bloody hell. Why can’t Lansbury just have him arrested? Everyone would sleep sounder if he was rotting in the Tower.”

They all exchanged grim glances.

Why indeed?

CHAPTER 15

Georgiana lay on her side in bed, glaring around her comfortably furnished chamber as the early morning sun sent pale shards of light through tiny gap between the window drapes. After a long night of tossing and turning and resenting every moment she was here in Kingsford House rather than curled up in Ashton’s arms, she felt decidedly irritable.

Yesterday had been heavenly, especially the orgasms and the spanking, both of which she’d so desperately needed. The delicious strudel, banter, and then serious discussion at the kitchen table with Phoebe and Sir Alan had been an added bonus. But the only issue with a heavenly day: it contrasted so starkly with the rest. Grandmother continued to be a witch. Papa just hid in his library and pretended nothing was amiss. Xavier came and went as usual, sometimes smiling, sometimes grim, but she’d seen fresh bruises and scratches on his hands that the waterfall of lace at his shirt cuff didn’t quite conceal, and that only intensified her dread.

What the hell was taking Lansbury so long? Rupert was scheduled to return to London this afternoon.

GAH.

Thoroughly fed up with the world, Georgiana shoved back her quilt and climbed out of bed. After putting on her dressing gown as a barrier against the morning chill, she scampered over to the chamber pot concealed behind an embroidered screen for privacy. Grimacing at the cold polished wood under her feet, she began hiking up her chemise and nightgown…and gasped. Because right there on the linen fabric were some blood spots.

Her heart pounding, not daring to hope, she reached over for the drawstring bag that contained the clean rags she used each month, and retrieved one to wipe between her legs.

PRAISE THE LORD.

Staring at the red smear on the white cloth, a huge, beaming smile nearly made her cheeks ache. Her menses!

Tears of joy and relief stung her eyes and Georgiana danced a jig, even as a sudden belly gripe reminded her that this monthly matter was a supreme annoyance. But no one would hear her complain today. Not this time. This was the first step to freedom. At no point had she truly felt pregnant, and having learned a great deal from speaking with Lilian and Pippa made her even more confident she never had been. Her blasted menses had just decided to be contrary and take longer to arrive than it usually did. Possibly nature, possibly because so much had happened in her life lately. Besides, Pippa’s books did say that excitable ladies might not be as regular as others.

Not pregnant.