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“An unfortunate truth,” he murmured.
Jacob Rutherford, Georgina’s father, had used her athiswhim. Georgina had alluded to a misunderstanding with her parents that had resulted in her being wed to Masterson and banished from New York. But she had thus far refused to discuss the events in any detail. Tony speculated Rutherford had wanted a title in the family to improve his social standing. But Georgina’s family had yet to visit her in London to take advantage of the connection. Nor had she gone home to New York, not even for her sister’s wedding. A man was involved in Georgina’s exile, of that Leo had no doubt.
Jealousy snapped against his skin, and he pushed it away.
“I suppose I am foolish. I just thought—” She looked down at her hands before straightening her shoulders again and raising her chin. “Why mustyoube one of them?”
Because he was Leo Murphy. He wanted to scream it at her. Gambling hell owner. Notorious bastard. A man who had become as much of a debaucher of women as the detested Duke of Averell.That’swho he was. Georgina was ridiculously romantic; she refused to see him for what he was: themuck.Not honorable. Not a gentleman. Morals questionable.
“I’m not sure I have ever given you any indication I am honorable, my lady. I taught you how to gamble. Kept you company from time to time. Would that your husband had taken instruction from me. Lord Masterson might well have improved his odds of winning.”
The curl twitched in agitation. “Are you in possession of my marker or not?”
“Very well. Lord Masterson,” Leo stated coolly, “received a substantial amount of credit from me so he could finish his game of cards. He was determined to beat Lord Wentworth. Since I already own a hefty stack of your husband’s markers, it did not make good business sense to allow him any additional credit without some sort of collateral.”
A hint of color entered her cheeks. “You could have refused.”
“Had I refused,” Leo informed her, “your husband would have used the marker with your name on it, guaranteeing a night of your company, as hiswagerwith Wentworth.” Wentworth could have called the marker due at any time. Given Masterson’s careless treatment of his bride, Georgina would have found herself in a very unfortunate situation. Wentworth wasn’t known for his kind treatment of women. “I can’t fathom you would have wished for that outcome.”
“He could in no way make me comply.”
“Masterson wouldn’t even have bothered to tell you until it was far too late. He would have felt bound to honor the marker as a gentleman.” Wentworth would have forced her.Hurther. Which would have led to Lord Wentworth’s ultimate demise because Leo would have had to dispose of him. “Would you have found that preferable? To find yourself locked in a room with Wentworth?”
“What I would havepreferredwas not to have been bartered with as if I were a cow or a goat.” A puff of outrage left her, and the curl fell back over her cheek. She brushed it away, tucking it neatly behind her ear.
“A very expensive goat,” Leo drawled.
“I don’t find this situation as amusing as you do.”
The amount he’d given Masterson, a lord hovering on the brink of bankruptcy, had been indecent in comparison to what was offered as collateral. But Leo would have given him much more to keep hold of Georgina’s marker. He’d informed Masterson rather bluntly that Georgina was not to be used in such a way again or his membership at Elysium would be revoked and his markers called in.
“Your anger would be better directed toward your husband, Lady Masterson. May I offer you a glass of bourbon whiskey?” He gave her a sideways glance, bringing out a bottle of the stuff from a drawer in his desk. Setting the bottle on the table, he produced two crystal-cut glasses. “I believe it is your favorite.”
Georgina’s preference for bourbon whiskey, scandalous on whichever side of the Atlantic one found themselves on, was yet another one of her intriguing habits. It mixed well with her rebellious nature, scathing tongue, and ability to curse. Of course, now he must consider she’d also been taught to shoot squirrels out of trees.
Elysium always kept several bottles of bourbon on hand for Georgina, something he’d gone to great trouble to procure.
Leo drummed his fingers on the desk, berating himself for going to such lengths just to please her.
It was only bourbon, after all.Not a poem to her eyes. Or an ode to her lips.
She jerked her chin in assent to the bourbon.
Georgina’s husband, in addition to liking muscular footmen, was one of those gentlemen who became mad with lust when gambling. Always certain the very next card or the final throw of the dice would guarantee victory, but it rarely ever did. While Leo wasn’t privy to Masterson’s finances, the elderly earl had been desperate enough to consider marriage to a wealthy American girl barely out of the school room. It certainly wasn’t to produce an heir, something Masterson had never professed any interest in. His nephew was in line to inherit.
Leo poured out two glasses of bourbon, sliding Georgina’s across the desk in her direction.
She picked up the heavy crystal and took a small sip, closing her eyes in pleasure, her features blissful.
Leo thought she would look much the same way beneath him as she climaxed.
“I am not here to debate my husband’s failings, numerous though they might be. I’ve no idea what he prefers more; gambling or visiting the rooms on Elysium’s second floor with an unending parade of young, blonde gentlemen.” Her eyes snapped open. Delicate hands clenched and flexed around the crystal of her glass as if she were considering whether to toss it at Leo’s head. Perhaps she would even tackle him to the floor.
The image was so erotic, a sigh escaped his lips.
“Let us speak plainly.” Georgina was nothing if not blunt.
“I prefer it,” Leo said.
