Never Judge a Lady By Her Cover: Number 4 in series (The Rules of Scoundrels series) (5 page)

But Duncan West was not acquainted with the part she played tonight. He did not know Georgiana, even though it was he who had flushed her out into society. He, and his cartoon.

“Of course I know the man who ran the cartoon that made me infamous.”

She recognized guilt in his gaze. “I am sorry.”

She raised a brow. “Do you apologize to all the recipients of your particular brand of humor? Or only to those whom you cannot avoid?”

“I deserved that.”

“And more,” she said, knowing that she was on the edge of going too far.

He nodded. “And more. But you did not deserve the cartoon.”

“And you’ve only tonight had a change of heart?”

He shook his head. “I’ve regretted it since it ran. It was in poor taste.”

“No need to explain. Business is business.” She knew that well. Had lived by the words for years. It was part of why Chase and West worked so well together. Neither asked questions of the other as long as information flowed smoothly between them.

But it did not mean she forgave him for what he’d done. For requiring her to be present this night, to find marriage, to be accepted. Without him… she might have had more time.

Not much time.
 

She ignored the thought.

“Children are not business,” he said. “She shouldn’t have been a part of it.”

She did not like the turn in the conversation, the way he referred to Caroline, gently, as though he cared. She did not like the idea that he cared. She looked away.

He sensed the shift in her. Changed the topic. “How did you know me?”

“When we arrived, my brother pointed out the lions in the room.” The lie came easily.

He tilted his head. “Those who are regal and important?”

“Those who are lazy and dangerous.”

He laughed low and deep, the sound rippling through her. She did not like that, either, the way he seemed to catch her off guard even as she was at her most guarded. “I may be dangerous, Lady Georgiana, but I have never in my life been lazy.”

And then she wasn’t off guard at all, but rather exceedingly comfortable. Tempted. He could not have meant the words to be so tempting, but damned if they weren’t… damned if they didn’t make her want to flirt shamelessly with him and ask him to prove just how hard he would work for a reward. Damned if he didn’t have the same effect on her that he did in her club, when she was disguised and he was diverting.

Damned if he didn’t make her wonder what it might be like to meet him in the darkness, another woman at another time in another place. To give in to temptation.

For the first time. Since the last time.

Since the only time.
 

She stiffened at the thought. He was a very dangerous man, and she was not Chase tonight. This was not her club. She had no power here.

He did, however.

She looked toward the glittering ballroom. “I should return to the festivities. And my chaperones.”

“Which are legion, no doubt.”

“I’ve a sister-in-law with sisters-in-law. There is nothing a gaggle of women enjoys more than adorning the unmarried.”

He smiled at the word. “Adorned is right.” His gaze flickered to the feathers protruding from her coif. She resisted the urge to rip them out. She’d agreed to the damn things as a trade – she wore them, and in return was allowed to arrive at and leave the ball in her own conveyance.

She scowled. “Don’t look at them.” He returned his attention to her eyes, and she recognized the humor dancing in his brown gaze. “And don’t laugh. You try dressing for a ball with three ladies and their maids fawning about.”

His lips twitched. “I take it you do not enjoy fashion.”

She swatted at an errant feather that had fallen into her field of vision, as though she’d summoned it with her vitriol. “Whatever gave you such an idea?”

He laughed then, and she enjoyed the sound, almost forgetting why they were here.

He reminded her. “A duchess and a marchioness will help you change minds.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was no fool. He knew precisely what she was doing.

He rocked back on his heels. “Let’s not play games. You’re angling for Society to welcome you back. You’ve trotted out your brother, his wife, her family —” He looked over her shoulder toward the ballroom. “Hell, you’ve even danced with the Duke of Lamont.”

“For someone who does not know me, you seem to be rather focused on my evening.”

“I am a newsman. I notice things that are out of the ordinary.”

“I’m perfectly ordinary,” she said.

He laughed. “Of course you are.”

She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable – not knowing how she should behave – not knowing who she should pretend to be for this man who seemed to see everything. Finally, she said, “It seems an impossible feat, changing their minds.”

Something flashed across his face, there, then gone. Irritation flared. “That was not a demand for pity.”

“It was not pity.”

“Good,” she said.
What, then?

“You can hold your ground with them, you know.” She could do more than that. His thoughts appeared to go in a similar direction. “How did you know who Lady Mary’s suitors are?”

“Everyone knows that.”

He did not waver. “Everyone who has paid attention to the season for the last year.”

She shrugged. “Just because I do not attend parties doesn’t mean I am ignorant of the workings of the
ton
.”

“You know a great deal about the
ton
, I think.”

If he only knew.
“It would be stupid for me to attempt to return to Society without basic reconnaissance.”

“That is a term usually reserved for military conflict.”

She raised a brow. “It is London in season. You think I am not at war?”

He smiled at that and inclined his head, but did not allow the conversation to lighten. Instead, he played the reporter. “You knew that the girls would turn on her if you pushed her.”

She looked away, thinking of Lady Mary. “When given the opportunity, Society will happily cannibalize itself.”

He bit back a laugh.

She narrowed her gaze on him. “You find that amusing?”

“I find it remarkable that someone so desperate to rejoin its ranks sees the truth of Society so clearly.”

“Who said I was desperate to rejoin its ranks?”

He was paying close attention now. “You’re not?”

Suspicion whispered through her. “You are very good at your job.”

He did not hesitate. “I am the best there is.”

She should not like his arrogance, but she did. “I nearly gave you your story.”

“I already have my story.”

She did not care for the statement. “And what is that?”

He did not reply, watching her carefully. “You seemed to enjoy your time with the Duke of Lamont.”

She did not want him thinking of her time with Temple. Did not want him considering how it was that she and the duke who owned a gaming hell knew each other. “Why are you interested in me?”

He leaned back against the stone balustrade. “The aristocracy’s prodigal daughter is returned. Why would I not be interested in you?”

She gave a little huff of laughter. “Fatted calf and all that?”

“Fresh out of plump calves this season. Would you settle for canapés and a cup of tepid lemonade?”

It was her turn to smile. “I’m not returned for the aristocracy.”

He leaned in at that, coming closer, wrapping her in the heat of him. He was a devastatingly handsome man, and in another time, as another person, with another life, she might have welcomed his approach. Might have met it head-on. Might have given herself up to the temptation of him.

It seemed unfair that Georgiana had never had such a chance. Or was it a desire? Lady Mary’s insult echoed.
Whore.
The word she could not escape, no matter how false it was.

She’d thought it was love.

She’d thought he was her future.

Learned quickly that love and betrayal came together.

And now…
whore
.

It was a strange thing to have one’s reputation so thoroughly destroyed with such a flagrant lie. To have a false identity heaped upon one’s shoulders.

Oddly, it made one want to live it, just to have a taste of truth.

But to live it, she was required to trust, and that would never happen again.

“I know you’re not returned for them,” he said softly, the tone tempting. “You’re returned for Caroline.”

She snapped back from him. “Don’t speak her name.”

There was a beat as the cold warning in the words wrapped around them. He watched her carefully, and she tried her best to look young. Innocent. Weak. Finally, he said, “She is not my concern.”

“But she is mine.” Caroline was everything.

“I know. I saw you nearly topple poor Lady Mary for mentioning her.”

“Lady Mary is in no way poor.”

“And she should know better than to insult a child.”

“Just as you should have?” The words were out before she could stop them.

He inclined his head. “As I should have.”

She shook her head. “Your apology is rather late, sir.”

“Your daughter is the only thing that could have brought you back to this. You don’t need it for yourself.”

Warning flared. What did he know? “I don’t understand.”

“I only mean that with this many years between you and scandal, an attempt at redemption would only draw long dead attention to you.”

He understood what others seemed to miss. The years away had been tremendously freeing once she’d accepted the idea that she’d never have the life for which she’d been so well prepared. It wasn’t just the corset and skirts that constricted now. It was the knowledge that mere feet away, there were hundreds of prying eyes watching, judging, waiting for her to make a mistake.

Hundreds of people, with no purpose, desperate to see her fall.

But this time, she was more powerful than any of them.
 

He spoke again. “No doubt, your love for her is what will make you the heroine of our play.”

“There is no play.”

He smiled, all knowing. “As a matter of fact, my lady, there is.”

How long had it been since someone had used the honorific with her? How long since they’d done it without insult or judgment or artifice?

Had it ever happened?

“Even if there were a play,” she allowed, “it is in no way
ours
.”

He watched her for a long moment before he said, “I think it might be ours, you know. You see, I find myself quite fascinated.”

She ignored the heat that came with the words. Shifted, straightening her shoulders. “I can’t imagine why.”

He came closer. His voice dropped even lower. “Can’t you?”

Her gaze snapped to his, the words echoing through her. He was her answer. He, the man who told Society what to think, and when, and about whom. He could tempt Langley for her. He could tempt anyone he liked for her.

Lord knew he was a very tempting man.
 

She resisted the errant thought. Returned to the matter at hand.

Duncan West could secure her a title and a name.

He could secure Caroline a future. Georgiana had allowed herself to watch this man for years, in the world where they stood on equal footing. But now, in the darkness, faced with him, he seemed at once threat and savior.

“No one’s ever done what you’re about to do,” he said, finally.

“What’s that?”

He returned to his relaxed position against the marble balustrade. “Returned from the dead. If you succeed, you shall sell a great deal of newspapers.”

“How very mercenary of you.”

“It doesn’t mean I don’t wish you to succeed.” After a long moment, he added, sounding surprised, “In fact, I believe I want just that.”

“You do?” she asked, even as she told herself not to.

“I do.”

He could help her win.
 

He studied her for a long while, and she resisted the urge to fidget beneath his gaze. Finally, he said, “Have we met before?”

Damn.
 

She looked nothing like Anna tonight. Anna was primped and painted, stuffed and padded, all tight corset and spilling bosom, pale powder, red lips, and blond hair so bold it gleamed nearly platinum. Georgiana was the opposite, tall, yes, and blond, but without the extravagance. She had breasts of a normal size. Her hair was a natural hue. Skin, too. And lips.

He was a man, and men saw only that for which they were looking. And still he seemed to see into her.

“I do not think so,” she replied, resisting the thought. She turned to head into the ballroom. “Will you dance?”

He shook his head. “I’ve business to attend to.”

“Here?” The question was out, filled with curiosity, before she realized that simple Georgiana Pearson would not care enough to ask.

His gaze narrowed slightly on her, no doubt as he considered the question. “Here. And then elsewhere.” With the barest pause, he added, “You are certain we have not met?”

She shook her head. “I have not been in these circles for many years.”

“I am not always in these circles myself.” He paused, then added, as much to himself as to her, “I would remember you.”

There was an honesty in his words that had her catching her breath. Her gaze widened. “Are you flirting with me?”

He shook his head. “No need for flirting. It’s the truth.”

She allowed one side of her mouth to lift in a smile. “Now I know you are flirting. And with aplomb.”

He dipped his head. “My lady does me great compliment.”

She laughed. “Cease, sir. I’ve a plan, and it does not include handsome newspapermen.”

White teeth flashed. “I’m handsome now, am I?”

It was her turn to raise a brow. “I am certain you own a mirror.”

He laughed. “You are not what I would have expected.”

If he only knew.
 

“I may not be very good at selling your newspapers, after all.”

“You let me worry about selling newspapers.” He paused. “You worry about your plan – every debutante’s plan since the beginning of time.”

She gave a little huff of laughter. “I am no debutante.”