Page 18 of Scandal With A Viscount

Her stomach dropped. She turned and found him leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, wearing a smile that she couldn’t believe she'd once thought was charming. What a fool she had been. She knew better now.

“Lord Dunblane. I'm on my way to meet Her Grace—”

“This won't take long.” He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. She held her ground. Retreating would make him think he had some hold on her, and she refused to give this man anything ever again. “I must say, you've grown into yourself since the last time we were alone together. You were lovely as an eager debutante. Now, you're magnificent.”

“What do you want?”

The arse chuckled. “Direct. I’ve always liked that about you.” He stopped close enough that she could smell his cologne, and the familiarity of it made her throat close. “We had a wonderful time together, you and I. We find ourselves together for several days and might as well make the most of it.”

“I am beyond your charms of seduction. I’ve already had what you have to offer my lord, and I never want to experience it again.” She squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin.

“Is that so?” He looked amused, and it took everything she had not to slap him. “You were a willing participant. Enthusiastic, even. As I recall, you’d hoped to become my wife.”

She scoffed and smoothed a non-existent wrinkle in her gown. “And now I know better.”

He waved a hand, as if he were brushing aside a minor inconvenience. “Yet you’ve never married. Might you be waiting for me to come back around and pay you a bit of attention?” His voice dropped. “You want more of what you know I can give you, don’t you?”

Her blood went cold. “You think far too highly of yourself.”

Dunblane stepped closer. “I think we could enjoy each other's company again. For old time's sake. No promises this time—we both know better.”

“I would sooner throw myself from the roof of this house.” She held his gaze and didn't blink. “You are the worst thing that ever happened to me, and the fact that you don't know that tells me everything about the kind of man you are.”

Something flickered in his expression—not shame, not hurt, but the irritation of a man who'd expected an easy conquest but found resistance.

“Am I?” His eyes moved over her body in a way that made her need to bathe. “You're here without Max, your mother is too distracted to keep proper watch, and I'm told your room is at the end of the guest wing.” He smiled. “I could come to you tonight. No one needs to know.”

“If you come near my room, I will scream this house down and tell everyone what you did to me.”

“And what did I do to you, exactly?” His tone was patient, condescending. “Courted you? Made love to you with your full consent? You were eighteen, Georgiana, not a child. And you wanted it. We both know that.” He tilted his head. “What would your mother think if she knew her only daughter was a lightskirt?”

She couldn't breathe. The gallery was too warm. His face was too close. The words were stirring memories she'd long since tried to forget. Because he wasn't wrong. She had been willing. She had wanted him. And the ton would see exactly what Dunblane wanted them to see—a woman of loose morals who'd given herself to a man. His reputation would recover. Hers would be in shambles.

“Stay away from me,” she said. Her voice came out steady despite how badly she wanted to slap the bastard.

“Think about my offer.” He straightened and smoothed his coat. “Or perhaps I’ll find someone as eager as you used to be.”

He walked past her and disappeared down the corridor, and Georgie stood in the gallery with shaking hands, a hammering heart, and the taste of bile in her throat. She pressed her back against the wall and forced herself to breathe. In and out. In and out. The way she'd taught herself after he'd disappeared the first time, when she'd spent three weeks waiting for a letter that never came and then realized it never would.

She wanted Louis. The thought came unbidden, and it was the worst possible thing she could want right now. Louis was the one person she couldn't face with Dunblane's words still ringing in her ears. What would Louis think if he knew? That the woman who'd set terms to stay in control and never let anyone past her walls had once been a naive girl? What if he knew she had given everything to a rake with a handsome face and pretty words?

After her encounter with Dunblane, she spent the morning in the company of the other women and kept her composure intact through force of will alone. She managed to engage in conversation and avoid Louis.

Thea had tea brought out for all of them when Georgie spotted the figures moving along the walk.

Dunblane was in the garden with a group of the other guests. Among them was Miss Felicity Barrow—the daughter of a baronet, fresh from her first Season, with wide eyes and a nervous laugh. She had the glow of a young woman who hadn't yet learned what men were capable of, and she hung on Dunblane’s every word.

Georgie watched from the terrace as the arse bent his head toward the girl and said something that made her blush. His hand found her elbow. He guided her to a bench and sat too close, and the girl didn't move away, even though she should know better.

Georgie had known better.

She'd been that girl. She'd blushed at his smooth words and thought they meant something.

Her vision went red.

She crossed the garden before she'd made a conscious decision to move. Dunblane looked up as she approached, and the smile he gave her was the smile of a man who believed he held all the cards.

“Miss Barrow.” Georgie's voice was pleasant and controlled. “Her Grace was looking for you. Something about the evening's entertainment.”