Pretty Persuasion (6 page)

Just as he started on the buttons of his waistcoat, she heard voices from below. Turning to the window, she saw two dark figures in the street, approaching the inn. Tall-crowned hats shaded their faces, but she knew neither of them were her father; they walked too quickly, stepped too lightly. And besides, her father would never take on such a demeaning mission.

"I don't recognize them. I don't think they're after us."

"I'm not willing to take that chance."

"Well, what could we possibly—" One of the men in the street looked up, and Georgie drew back, dropping the curtain. There was something familiar about him.

Phillip stormed over to the bed. Pushing aside the blankets, he buried his walking stick in the folds. Georgie watched in baffled silence as he advanced on her. He had stripped down to his shirtsleeves, his dark blond hair was disheveled, and there was a wild look in his eyes.

Instinctively, she backed away from him, her stomach knotting. "Phillip, what—"

"We must get into bed. That way, if they are indeed seeking us, they'll think they're too late and we've already been married."

She did not like the sound of that plan. It seemed futile and undignified. "I don't think—oh!"

Phillip swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He plopped her onto the mattress and climbed in, wrapping her body with his. Stunned and frozen, Georgie only lay there as he reached around and tore at her dress. When he had undone the top buttons and brushed one side down her shoulder, she stirred.

"I don't like this at all—" she started, but he shushed her, covering her mouth with his hand. A dog started barking, and the riotous sounds of a commotion came from downstairs.

"Trust me, my dear," he said firmly, and then his hard, dry lips crushed hers. A choked sound of protest rose in Georgie's throat. She punched his shoulder, twisting to get away, trying to push him off—anything to make him stop this foolishness.

Heavy boots thumped on the stairs. Someone pounded on a door further down the hall, and Georgie stiffened.

"It's all right," Phillip said hoarsely against her lips. He kissed her cheek, her chin, her neck—wet, hungry kisses that fueled the panic swelling within her. If only he'd give her the chance to think, to catch her breath—

The racket grew louder. Angry voices and the echo of slamming doors carried through the walls. Finally, the hammering reached their door. Georgie lurched in response, and as dread of impending humiliation slammed into her, she struggled harder to push Phillip off.

"Stop!" she hissed, but he paid her no heed. "Phillip, this is foolish!"

He silenced her with his mouth and began tugging her skirt up. Georgie's heart thumped along with the banging on the door. When Phillip's hand found her naked thigh, she tore her arm from beneath him and balled her hand into a fist.

And then the door crashed open.

"Louisa asked me to-day which Virtue I consider the most admirable of a gentleman's character. I did not have a ready answer; but after some deliberation, we agreed that, of all the qualities we should require in a husband, Honesty is of the highest importance."

— From the diary of Lady Georgiana Montford, aged 15

GEORGIE SAW A top hat, a billowing greatcoat, and a thunderous face, and shock sucked every last ounce of air from her lungs. The Rat loomed in the doorway, but his presence extended beyond, filling the room with tangible wrath.

Phillip grabbed his walking stick and sprang from the bed. The ease of his crushing weight should have been a relief, but instead she felt only exposed, vulnerable.

"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, although he must know the answer well enough.

"I should think that's obvious," Robert said with restrained menace. "I'm retrieving stolen goods."

"Stolen
goods?
" Georgie pushed herself up and scrambled off the bed. "There is nothing stolen here, and you have no right to interfere!" Yet through her indignation, she couldn't help but search the Rat's face for signs of jealousy. She saw only fury, but even that was enough to rouse an involuntary spurt of satisfaction.

He took a step into the room. "Believe me, Georgie; it is in your best interest to come with me. Now."

"No." She drew the word out so that he could have no doubt of her intentions. "You shall leave. Without me. Now."

"You know this fellow?" Phillip interrupted.

"He is a rat of no consequence," she said coldly, meeting Robert's gaze with stubbornness that matched his.

"Who will escort the lady back to her parents forthwith," the Rat supplied, ignoring her jibe.

Georgie made an exasperated noise. "I am not going anywhere, except by force."

A dangerous glint lit Robert's eyes. He started toward her but did not get far before Phillip leapt between them, drew a sword from his walking stick, and pointed it at Robert's chest.

"I think not," Phillip said, holding the blade in a steady, practiced hand.

Robert stopped dead. He stared at Phillip, his gaze hard and unflinching, and not once did he look at the deadly weapon mere inches from his heart. A cloud of fear swallowed Georgie's anger, and instinctively, she backed away from the men. Her knees connected with the bed, and she plumped down onto the bunched-up counterpane.

"You have arrived too late, sir," Phillip declared. "The marriage has already taken place."

Though his jaw tightened, Robert took that with equanimity. "Then surely there is no need for a weapon."

"Perhaps not, but I'll keep it, anyhow."

The click of a pistol echoed through the room, and a rumbling voice came from the doorway. "I would advise against it."

Georgie's breath caught. A towering, burly man stepped into the room, his weapon and bone-chilling gaze fixed on Phillip. The devil incarnate would take his form, black-clad and imposing with a sinister scar slashed across his left cheek.

"Drop it," the giant ordered, gesturing at Phillip's sword.

When Phillip didn't budge, Robert cut in. "I'd do as he says, Rossemore. He's a Scot and can be deuced uncivilized, especially when he's crossed."

"Indeed?" Phillip's voice was stony.

"Indeed. He's likely to plant a bullet in your leg instead of putting you out of your misery. What say you, Cameron?"

The Scot cracked a humorless smile and tipped the pistol downward. "The knee, I think."

"Good choice. It'll hurt like the devil, and he'll walk about with limp for the rest of his life."

"Oh, stop it!" Georgie shot up from the bed. "Have you all gone mad?"

The men ignored her, neither backing down. With a low growl, she threw herself between Phillip and the giant oaf with the pistol. "Go on, then. If you must shoot someone, let it be me."

"Georgie—" Phillip sputtered.

"Stay away, Georgie," Robert warned.

The Scots devil merely stared, and a shiver ran through her as she realized he was not a man to make idle threats.

A scuffle erupted behind her, a grunt of pain and the clatter of metal hitting the floor. Heart in throat, she spun around, then leapt away to avoid being knocked over.

Phillip and the Rat dove for the weapon. Grasping the sword's handle, Robert drove his shoulder into Phillip's face. With a shout of agony, Phillip fell on his back, clutching his nose.

By the time Phillip had scrambled to his feet again, Robert had the weapon firmly in hand. Keeping the sword lowered, he stood with one foot in front of the other, ready to put his new advantage to use. Phillip's gaze darted between the other men. Grimacing, he muttered a curse and wiped his battered nose, leaving crimson stains on the white linen of his sleeve.

Oh, God.
Georgie rushed to his side, drew out her kerchief and, tugging his arm away, pressed it against his nose.

"Thank you," he mumbled, taking the cloth from her hands. She reached for his face, but he flinched, his eyes warning her not to fuss.

"Cameron, be so kind as to close the door."

Georgie turned at the sound of Robert's lazy drawl, and as the giant did his bidding, she caught a glimpse of the crowd that had formed in the hallway. Heat flamed her face, and she became acutely aware of her tousled appearance. She tugged the dress back onto her shoulder, faltering when she noticed Robert's gaze upon her. It was a look from the past, the look he had given her so often after the maze incident, after she started tormenting him.

Her stomach pitched, and she averted her eyes. His scorn still unsettled her in a way no one else's could.

Robert broke the silence. "Now that we have all settled down, perhaps we can discuss this in a civilized manner."

"There's nothing to discuss," Phillip said, lowering the kerchief from his nose.

"Humor me, Rossemore." Robert held up his hand when Phillip started another protest. "It's the only way you'll be rid of me."

Phillip's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "I don't appear to have much choice in the matter. Though it would please me to know to whom I am speaking."

The Rat inclined his head. "Sheffield. You'll have to forgive the lack of a proper introduction."

While Georgie cursed their cool politeness, Phillip said, "Go on."

"Marriage to Georgie would be a grave mistake. I advise you not to go through with it."

"Your advice arrives too late. The ceremony has already been performed."

Robert arched a brow, as if he didn't quite believe it. "An annulment, then."

"I think not." Blood still trickled from Phillip's nose, and he reapplied the pressure of her kerchief.

"If you would but hear me out, I'm convinced you would consider it," Robert said with a thin smile.

The kerchief came away again. "It is not a matter for consideration. It simply is not possible."

A loaded silence ensued, during which Georgie found herself under the scrutiny of three pairs of eyes. It took her a moment to grasp the implication of Phillip's declaration. An annulment was impossible when the marriage had been consummated. Her cheeks started burning. God, but she wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.

The Scot watched her with indifference. Phillip's gaze held admonition, as if he expected her to contradict him, and Robert… No word could describe the devastating effect his cold stare had upon her.

"I see." Robert's voice cut right to the bone. "Then I seem to be the bearer of particularly bad news, Rossemore. You have married a lady with no dowry."

Shaken out of her stupor, Georgie gave an incredulous laugh. "What nonsense!"

Robert he kept his eyes on Phillip. "Before I departed London, the duke informed me that if you married this young man, he'd cut you off without a farthing."

"No. It's not true." Her father wouldn't do such a thing. Except… He was certainly capable of it. She had no doubt of that.

Robert's eyes were stony when they found hers. "You would call me a liar, Georgie?"

If I thought it served your purpose to lie, yes.
She didn't dare voice the insult aloud. "I'll still have Astley Park."

He shook his head. "The duchess also expressed her intention to disinherit you. You're left with nothing."

"She can't do that!" She didn't mean to shout. She just couldn't help it.

He shrugged. "I believe it is her prerogative to bequeath it according to her own will."

Georgie's head swam. Her parents wouldn't be that cruel, especially her mother. "I don't believe it."

"Perhaps this will convince you." Robert pulled a folded document from his pocket and held it up. It carried her father's seal. "This is a sworn statement, signed and witnessed, testifying that if you marry Lord Rossemore, your parents will abrogate your dowry and disinherit you."

She tried to disbelieve it but couldn't ignore the nagging voice that told her she might have underestimated the extent of their disapproval. Frantically, she blurted, "It doesn't matter. We do not need my dowry. We shall still be married."

She didn't realize her mistake until Robert's brows shot up. "
Shall
be?"

Behind the kerchief, Phillip muttered a curse. Should she try to cover her slip with another lie? No, it was pointless. She gave Robert her most powerful glare. "By preventing it, you'll only delay the inevitable."

To her surprise—and irritation—he actually flashed a smile. It did not reach his eyes. "Rest easy, Georgie. Now that you are aware of the risk involved, I am not going to stand in your way. Indeed, I intend to see that you go through with it." He turned to Phillip. "I assume the ceremony is to be performed tonight?"

Rossemore hesitated, and Robert clenched his hand around the sword's handle. He had counted on the bastard's mercenary motives when he started taking liberties with the truth. It looked like his gamble might actually pay off. Why, then, was there a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach?

The fool cleared his throat, removing the bloodied kerchief from his nose. "Since you do not intend to stop us, there's no hurry." He paused. "I should like to see the document."

Robert had expected that, and he had an excuse chopped, cooked, and ready to serve. "I'd rather not. It was entrusted to me, and I do not take such obligation lightly. I give you my word as a gentleman that it is what I say."

Surprisingly, he spoke the words without qualm. His years away had certainly made him uncivilized, if he could so easily swear upon his honor and lie in the same breath. It had been a harsh lesson to realize that it was occasionally best to reach an end no matter the means.

"I would see it nonetheless," Rossemore said.

"Why?" Georgie interrupted, her forehead puckered.

Her lover's face twisted with frustration. "Because I do not trust his word."

"But what does it matter? We shall find out if it is true when we return to town." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, her tone hardening as she added, "Why must you know
now
?"

A frown creased Rossemore's forehead beneath his dandified, blond locks of hair. He cast an uneasy glance about, and Robert could all but hear the bastard's mind churning. A seed of doubt had been planted, one that Rossemore could not be rid of without showing his hand.