Page 25 of Scandal With A Viscount

“I love him, and I’m marrying him, Max.”

Max exhaled through his nose. He looked at Louis for a long moment and then extended his hand. Louis took it. It wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was a start. “We’ll manage the situation here, and then we’ll see about the wedding. I’m certain Mother will be beside herself with excitement.”

Georgie winced. She hadn’t thought yet about how her mother would react. She’d be pleased, but she’d have questions. Too many questions.

They walked toward the house. Georgie's hand found Louis's, and she didn't care who saw it. They were crossing the entrance hall when Dunblane appeared at the top of the staircase.

He was dressed for the morning, smiling down at them. His gaze found Georgie first, then Louis, then their joined hands.

“I don’t mind waiting for my turn.” There was nothing but amusement in his tone as he descended the stairs to join them. “Just send her to my chamber when you’re done, Ashworth.”

Louis released her hand.

The punch was fast and clean. One strike. Louis's fist connected with Dunblane's jaw with a crack that echoed through the entrance hall. Dunblane staggered backward, hit the banister, and went down.

Guests appeared in the doorways. Thea stood in the morning room entrance with her hand over her mouth. Maddie was behind her looking thoroughly pleased. Georgie's mother emerged from the breakfast room.

“If you come near her again,” Louis seethed, keeping his voice low, “I will do far worse. And if I hear you've touched Miss Barrow or any other woman, I will do everything in my power to destroy you.”

Max and Wesley stood at Louis’s side, arms crossed, and watched Dunblane on the ground.

The bastard scrambled to his feet, pressing his handkerchief against his split lip. His gaze darted around the hall at those who had gathered.

“I believe your carriage should be called,” Wesley said. “I’m certain you understand that it’s time you took your leave.”

Georgie pulled Louis away and into an alcove where they could have a moment of privacy. “Does your hand hurt?”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. That felt good.”

She took his hand in hers, and gently rubbed her fingers across his knuckles. They would bruise. “It’s a good thing that I won our little wager.”

Louis scoffed. “You didn’t win. We haven’t finished. But I’d rather marry you and take you anywhere but here.”

“Then you forfeit,” she teased. “But I probably would have dared you to punch that useless arse anyway.”

“Then what else would you like me to do for you, beautiful?” He pulled her to him, pressing their bodies together. “I concede that you are the victor. And based on our terms, I can’t refuse you.”

Georgie pressed up on her toes to kiss him.

“I’ll think of something.”

Epilogue

Louis: One month later

Louis stood in the doorway of their bedchamber in their London townhouse watching Georgie. She sat at the vanity in her dressing robe, the fabric thin enough that the candlelight showed the outline of her body beneath it. The sight of her brushing her hair, something so mundane, made his chest ache in a way he'd stopped trying to fight.

She caught his eye in the mirror. “You're staring.”

“Just taking in what’s mine.”

She set the brush down and turned on the stool to face him. “Is that so?”

“My wife.” The word still did something to him every time he said it. “Are you going to question that you are mine?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord.”

He crossed the room and pulled her to her feet and kissed her, running his hand inside the opening of her robe.