Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover
Page 11

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?”