AllFreeNovel
Share Us
3
Ashort time later, barely more than an hour, Georgina was still trembling. But this time with frustration and a decent amount of anger.
She’d lost.
“Close the door behind you, Larkin. Please inform Smith I’m not to be disturbed under any circumstances.”
“Not even for Lord Welles, sir?”
“Especially not for Lord Welles. You can leave the cards and chips here and collect them tomorrow.”
Larkin nodded, bowed sharply, and left Leo’s office, his footsteps barely making a sound on the thick rug as he exited.
Georgina sat perfectly still on the obscene settee, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She often prided herself on being a good loser, but she had to bite her lip to keep from spewing out a string of curses.
I’ve lost Beechwood Court. And a great deal of my pride.
There was an actual physical pain at losing her tiny estate. She was far more concerned about Beechwood Court than she was about Leo bedding her. If her experience with Masterson was any indication, she need only lie still and wait for it to end.
She glanced at Leo as a small ball of heat built inside her.
John Winbow, excellent kisser and terrible human being, had touched Georgina in a great many places. Her underthings had become damp while the rest of her had yearned for something Georgina couldn’t put a name to. But Winbow’s desire for her had beennothingcompared to his greed for her father’s money.
Leo Murphy was an entirely different matter.
He’d dragged out their game, intentionally letting Georgina win the first few hands until his stack of chips grew short, putting her at ease. Giving her hope. Then he’d pounced, a great cat who had merely been playing with his food before he devoured it. Leo had probably known the cards she held in her hands before she had.
Georgina hated him a little for that. “You’ve won.”
“I have.”
Murphy plopped down on the settee beside her, close enough so that the cushions dipped beneath his weight and her own body tilted toward his. He leaned back against one plump pillow with its frivolous display of tassels. “You’re angry.”
“I am,” she responded.
“You were never going to win; surely you knew that when you made the wager.”
“Surely you knew I had no hope of winning when you gave me back my marker and induced me to wager for Beechwood Court.”
Firelight gilded one side of his face, turning the edges of his sculpted cheekbones to gold and throwing shadows across his shoulders. His wide mouth held the ghost of a half-smile as he regarded her, every inch a gentleman of wealth and privilege, except for the bit of darkness lurking beneath the fine clothes. A crudeness, perhaps, she might have called it. The sense that Leo could walk into a ballroom and then into a dark alley and be at home in either place. He’d had to learn to become a gentleman, had refinement forced upon him.
She expected the journey had been rife with all sorts of bumps in the road.
“Induce?”
“You knew I would come for Beechwood Court. My marker was only pickled herring.”
A soft chuckle came from his broad chest. “Red herring is what I believe you mean.”
“Regardless. You are deceptive.”
The line of his jaw tensed. “Deceptive?”
“Such pretense, Leo. There wasn’t any need to teach me card tricks and such, though I expect you found it amusing. I do hope I presented you with an adequate challenge. After all, you went to so much trouble to bring me here. I wonder if yousuggestedto my husband that he use me as a marker.”
“I did not,” he said quietly. “And I don’t make a habit of buying up the markers of married women. You’re the first.”
If she didn’t know better, Georgina would have thought there was regret lingering in the sapphire of his eyes. “I don’t believe you. I think you run several games at once. Sparkly baubles are much to your liking. I hope I shine brightly enough. The light isn’t very good in here.”
