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17
I’ve had too much champagne.
Georgina blinked, willing the image of Leo away, but he neither disappeared nor smiled. A prickling sensation washed over her skin as her heart hammered inside her chest.
“Leo,” she said stupidly.
Leo was here.
At her mother’s opera party. In Manhattan. Dressed in the same dark evening clothes as every other gentleman. As if he belonged here. She shut her eyes because blinking hadn’t worked. Had she fallen and hit her head?
No. Impossible.The sounds of the guests drinking and laughing still reached her ears. She could hear her own breathing, startled and ragged.
Georgina’s eyes fluttered open. He was still staring at her, furious and cold, like an unexpected winter storm.
“You haven’t forgotten me, then.” The words were icy and filled with such biting dislike, she shrank back. “Merely failed to impart certain important facts to me.”
He knows.Of course, he did. Why else would he be here?
Leo stared at her with such loathing, such dismissal, Georgina trembled with fear, afraid of him for the first time since they’d met. She twisted, trying to wrench her arm from his grasp.
He tightened his hold. “Don’t, Georgina. Let’s not make a scene. Not at your mother’s lovely party.”
Her heart sobbed in relief at his presence even though he was hardly welcoming to her. No more guessing at how he would react if he knew about Daniel. Leo’s manner made perfectly clear that Georgina had made the wrong choice in not telling him, especially after her conversation with Mr. Lind. After—
‘Don’t leave Georgina. Please.’
Taking a deep breath, or as much of one as she could in this gown, Georgina tried to compose herself. They were in a room full of people. This was not London. This was her home. Georgina straightened. Her chin tilted at a dangerous angle.
“Ah, now there’s my girl,” he purred.
God, how she’d missed the sound of him.
“Stubborn to a fault. Refusing to give in to anyone. Except me.” His words rippled against her skin. “Do you remember the way you screamed my name when you climaxed?” he whispered into her ear. “I do. You destroyed a pillow on my settee. Tore the bloody tassel clean off.”
“Are you sure it was me?” she snapped. “It could have been Lady Dunley. I’m sure she’s spent some time on that horrid piece of furniture.”
His fingers dug into her skin. “I’m not here to discuss Lady Dunley. Shall we dance?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not really in the mood to be flung about in anger in front of most of Manhattan. You might lose your temper and toss me into the musicians.” Her pulse beat madly in her throat.
“And I’m not in the mood for your witty banter. I wasn’t asking, Georgina.”
He flashed a charming smile. False. Slightly menacing. Pulling her close, he led her out to the middle of the floor. He held her stiffly in his arms, as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. Still, Leo moved flawlessly between the other dancers. Their bodies in perfect sync together, as if they were still back on that stupid red settee in his office.
Secretly, she’d wanted him to be an awful dancer.
“Terrible acoustics.” The roguish smile didn’t waver, though his voice rumbled like cut stone. “I do hope the echo is confined to the atrium. Mrs. Rutherford has made such an effort on her opera house. Would be a shame if it were all for naught, wouldn’t it?”
“You know I don’t like it when you do this,” she answered. Speaking of every mundane subject in the world instead of the one which was important to give his listener a false sense of security before he pounced on them. The tactic worked brilliantly if one were negotiating a stack of markers, for instance, but not when avoiding the obvious. “Please get to the point of your visit.”
“I dolikeNew York,” he continued, the blue of his eyes flat. Hard. “I can see why you’d return. I walked down Broadway Street the other day taking in the sights. I confess I had a completely different perception of the size. I suppose that’s something most women say.” He wiggled his brows at his ridiculous innuendo, but his eyes maintained their chilliness.
Georgina had to look away. “Stop it.” This was far more horrible than she’d anticipated, his blithe pretense of polite conversation.
“I’ve learned poker,” he continued, ignoring her protest. “What an interesting game. I can see why you might like it so much. I imagine you’re adept at poker because the main strategy seems to be...bluffing. You’re rather good at bluffing. All that time in London after returning from the countryside. Flitting about throwing garden parties and taking tea with my stepmother and sisters.” He swung her around hard. “Bluffing is not exactly a lie, I suppose, more an omission of the truth. A reluctance to inform others. Not even the irony of meeting my father and having him help you hide his grandchild shook your façade. Brava, Georgina.”
“You aren’t being fair,” she hissed back at him as her skirts caught around his legs. “You made yourself perfectly clear, Leo. No children. No bastards. You didn’t want me.”
