Page 105 of Ironvine

“I thank you, Mr. Whatley.”

Whatley showered Georgina with a pompous grin. “And congratulations on your nuptials, my dear.”

“Thank you, Mr. Whatley,” she replied. “Mrs. Whatley.” She bowed her head at Elinor.

Elinor barely glanced at her. “Countess.” She only had eyes for Charles. Blazing, gleaming, hungry eyes. “So very good to see you again, my lord. What a shame our paths did not cross in town as I’d hoped.”

Charles had no reply to her remark other than a cold half smile.

“Ah Lady Graven,” Mr. Whatley’s voice tittered at Justine. “Don’t you look splendid in vermillion this evening?”

“I thank you, Mr. Whatley. How kind of you to say.” Justine bowed her head to him. Whatley immediately joined Georgina and Justine’s conversation as Elinor inched closer to Charles.

That syrupy rose scent of hers filled his nostrils and dragged him back a thousand years to plowing into her in her drawing room in broad daylight, while her husband was upstairs in his bedchamber plowing into his favourite male servant. How they’d all enjoyed the pretence.

“You are the Earl of Ryvves now, eh?” Elinor’s grin deepened. “And married.”

“I am.”

“Won’t that make things more fun?” She let out a soft laugh.

“To what things are you referring, Mrs. Whatley?”

“One great, formidable thing in particular, which lies between your le—”

He pulled away from her, his gaze cold. “Madame, never speak to me in this manner again. Ever. Do you understand me?”

A sour grin flashed over her lips. “Ah. A faithful husband, eh? Very charming.” She let out a scoff. “How long will that last, I wonder?”

“My wife and I are none of your concern. Have I made myself clear?”

She pursed her lips, her neck seeming to lengthen. “My lord.” She bowed her head.

He stalked off, scrubbing a hand across his mouth as if that would cleanse him of thattête à tête. Of Elinor Whatley.

A hand slid through his arm and pressed. Georgina. Her brows pulled together. “You and Elinor Whatley?”

Dammit!

“Pardon?”

“I suppose I must become accustomed to the fact that you have lain with many women of my acquaintance.”

His mouth dried, and his breath burned in the back of his throat.

“Was she trying it on with you?”

“Georgina—”

“Was she?”

“I let her know quite clearly and adamantly that all that is no more. Ever.”

“Is that what you want?”

He blinked. “Of course I do.”

“Don’t say it like that. Say what you feel, not what will produce the desired result. Not to simply sweep it all away to make things better faster.”

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