Page 106 of Ironvine

Say what you feel?That was the one thing he could rarely do. He’d trained himself never to do it. But from the very first, ever since he’d known Georgina, she’d always dared him to be honest. Always demanded the truth from him.

“I don’t want her. Don’t even like her.”

“You don’t have to say those things.”

“I do. They’re the truth.” His fingers dug into her flesh. “After everything we’ve been through together, the truth matters to me, and it matters most between us.” His heart thrummed in his chest. It did matter, for the first time in his life. The bloody truth mattered.

She held his gaze, her lips easing, curving into a slight grin. “Poor Mrs. Whatley. To have such a husband, and to lose such a lover.”

“Georgina—”

“She must have been very keen to reclaim you tonight.”

“I was never hers to claim or to lose.”

Her chin lifted. “There must be more here tonight?”

“I want only you.” He needed her to hear it, and he needed to utter those words. “Tell me you believe me. I need to know you believe me.”

She brought her hand to his chest and pressed over his heart, her touch a burning spear. “I believe you,” she whispered roughly.

He clutched her hand in his. “I am gratified to hear it.”

No one had ever looked him in the eye and believed in him. Believed him yes, for he was a good liar. The falsehoods that he would weave and twist with tiny truths over the years to seduce women, flatter women, flatter men, and get his way, were many. Creating tales that hovered between truth and lies had become his forte.

But with Georgina, that had always been nigh impossible. Now? Absolutely distasteful. Unacceptable. His muscles tightened. He did want to be faithful to her, there was no question of it. An astonishing fact, which was, in truth, empowering.

“Ryvves, how are you?” A group of new guests had arrived, and they greeted Charles and Georgina.

“Ah…” Georgina’s hand wrapped around his arm. “Here is another.”

He followed her gaze. “For fuck’s sake. What the hell is she doing here?”

ChapterForty-Seven

Charles

Amanda was hereat the Oakley dinner.

“She must have come with her brother who was invited. There’s Andrew—” With a lift of her chin, Georgina pointed out Andrew Blakelock, Amanda’s brother, a gentleman, who was a friend.

“Good evening, my Lord Ryvves,” came a familiar voice from behind them.

“Aunt Vivian, hello.”

Her eyes gleamed. “This is your wife?”

“It is. Georgina, this is my Aunt Vivian, my mother’s sister, Mrs. Dunsmore.”

“And Alice’s stepmother,” said Georgina on a bow. “We met in London. How lovely to see you again, Mrs. Dunsmore.”

“It is indeed lovely to meet again, and in such happy circumstances. So much has happened since the night of that ball in London. Quite a whirlwind, to be sure.” She eyed Charles decidedly.

“A whirlwind, indeed,” agreed Georgina.

“We only just arrived from London yesterday. Of course, Alice and I were quite disappointed to have missed your wedding, but no matter, we are thrilled for you both. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

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