Page 10 of Scandal With A Viscount

“You seem distracted this evening, my lord.” Lady Hurst touched his sleeve.

“Do I? My apologies. I was thinking about the cards tonight.” He gave her his most charming smile. It was an excellent smile. It had worked on dozens of women over the years. But it gained him exactly nothing right now because all he could think about was the way Georgie bit her lip when she was trying not to laugh.

Dinner passed. Port with the men was an exercise in patience. Wes asked him about a horse he was considering purchasing. Louis gave an answer he couldn't remember thirty seconds later, because he was already thinking about his evening entertainment.

When the men joined the ladies in the drawing room for cards, Thea had set the tables up as usual. Louis took his seat, and Georgie settled into the chair across from him.

“Five to four.” She arranged her hand without looking up. “You will note that I am currently in the lead.”

“One game. It’s not exactly a commanding lead.”

“And yet here you are, looking nervous.” Her mouth curved. “What happened to never losing?”

“I don't lose. I am allowing you a sense of false confidence before I destroy you.”

“That's generous. I'll remember your generosity when I'm deciding what to dare you.” She looked up and the candlelight caught her eyes. He forgot what cards he was holding. “I do hope you'll be a gracious loser. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself in front of Wes and Thea’s guests.”

“The only thing I'm in danger of is facing the devastating look on your face when you see what dare I have in store.”

He only remembered that other people existed when John cleared his throat from the adjacent table. Louis dropped his gaze to his hand. It was a terrible hand. Not the best start to gain the lead in their little wager.

The evening wore on. Wes and Thea retired first. Thea squeezed Wes's arm as they stood, in the kind of casual, intimate gesture that made Louis look away. Other guests filtered out in pairs and groups. Georgie's mother was deep in conversation with a countess near the fire, showing no signs of retiring, which was both a relief and a complication.

Louis watched the room thin and told himself to wait. Let Georgie leave first. Count to a hundred. Go to his own room. Lock the door. Do not think about the sounds she makes when she . . .

Georgie stood from the table, exchanged a few words with Lady Hurst, and moved toward the corridor. She didn't look at him. She didn't need to.

He lasted only ninety seconds before he followed. Where she was concerned, his self-control was abysmal.

She was waiting in the alcove past the staircase landing, half hidden by the heavy curtain. She grabbed his cravat and pulled him in.

“You took too long.” Her voice was low, her fingers still twisted in his cravat.

“I was attempting discretion.”

“You were attempting to talk yourself out of continuing this. I have seen it in your eyes all day.” Her mouth was close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. “Did it work?”

“Clearly not, since I'm standing here like a fool.”

“You could leave.” But her fingers tightened on his cravat, and the dare in her voice told him she knew damn well he wouldn't.

“I could.” He pressed her against the wall. His mouth found her throat, and the sound she made went straight through him. Her fingers worked into his hair, and he could feel her pulse hammering against his lips. She wanted this as much as he did. The composure she wore during the day was as much of an act as his, and knowing that made everything worse. Made him want her more.

He kissed her. Deep and thorough and with none of the restraint he'd been clinging to all day. She arched into him and her hips pressed against his. The groan that escaped him was going to get them both caught if he couldn’t control of himself.

“We need to go upstairs,” he said against her mouth. “Now. Before someone—”

“Georgiana? Is that you, darling?”

His blood went cold.

Georgie's eyes flew wide open. Her hands dropped from his hair. Louis stepped back so fast he hit the opposite wall of the alcove to hide himself in the dark. Georgie was already moving—smoothing her hair, adjusting her dress. She stepped out from behind the curtain with a composure that shouldn't have been possible, given that his mouth had been on her neck two seconds ago.

“Mama.” Her voice was steady. Impossibly steady. Louis would have been impressed if he wasn’t busy trying not to die. “I was just getting some air. The drawing room was so warm this evening.”

“In the dark? By yourself? You looked as if you were hiding from someone.” Her mother didn’t seem to be convinced.

“Hiding? Don't be absurd.” Georgie linked her arm through her mother's and turned her away from the alcove where Louis was pressed flat against the wall, not breathing. “Are you ready to retire?”