“You know a great deal about the ton, I think.”
If he only knew. “It would be stupid for me to attempt to return to Society without basic reconnaissance.”
“That is a term usually reserved for military conflict.”
She raised a brow. “It is London in season. You think I am not at war?”
He smiled at that and inclined his head, but did not allow the conversation to lighten. Instead, he played the reporter. “You knew that the girls would turn on her if you pushed her.”
She looked away, thinking of Lady Mary. “When given the opportunity, Society will happily cannibalize itself.”
He bit back a laugh.
She narrowed her gaze on him. “You find that amusing?”
“I find it remarkable that someone so desperate to rejoin its ranks sees the truth of Society so clearly.”
“Who said I was desperate to rejoin its ranks?”
He was paying close attention now. “You’re not?”
Suspicion whispered through her. “You are very good at your job.”
He did not hesitate. “I am the best there is.”
She should not like his arrogance, but she did. “I nearly gave you your story.”
“I already have my story.”
She did not care for the statement. “And what is that?”
He did not reply, watching her carefully. “You seemed to enjoy your time with the Duke of Lamont.”
She did not want him thinking of her time with Temple. Did not want him considering how it was that she and the duke who owned a gaming hell knew each other. “Why are you interested in me?”
He leaned back against the stone balustrade. “The aristocracy’s prodigal daughter is returned. Why would I not be interested in you?”
She gave a little huff of laughter. “Fatted calf and all that?”
“Fresh out of plump calves this season. Would you settle for canapés and a cup of tepid lemonade?”
It was her turn to smile. “I’m not returned for the aristocracy.”
He leaned in at that, coming closer, wrapping her in the heat of him. He was a devastatingly handsome man, and in another time, as another person, with another life, she might have welcomed his approach. Might have met it head-on. Might have given herself up to the temptation of him.
It seemed unfair that Georgiana had never had such a chance. Or was it a desire? Lady Mary’s insult echoed. Whore. The word she could not escape, no matter how false it was.
She’d thought it was love.
She’d thought he was her future.
Learned quickly that love and betrayal came together.
And now . . . whore.
It was a strange thing to have one’s reputation so thoroughly destroyed with such a flagrant lie. To have a false identity heaped upon one’s shoulders.
Oddly, it made one want to live it, just to have a taste of truth.
But to live it, she was required to trust, and that would never happen again.
“I know you’re not returned for them,” he said softly, the tone tempting. “You’re returned for Caroline.”
She snapped back from him. “Don’t speak her name.”
There was a beat as the cold warning in the words wrapped around them. He watched her carefully, and she tried her best to look young. Innocent. Weak. Finally, he said, “She is not my concern.”
“But she is mine.” Caroline was everything.
“I know. I saw you nearly topple poor Lady Mary for mentioning her.”
“Lady Mary is in no way poor.”
“And she should know better than to insult a child.”
“Just as you should have?” The words were out before she could stop them.
He inclined his head. “As I should have.”
She shook her head. “Your apology is rather late, sir.”
“Your daughter is the only thing that could have brought you back to this. You don’t need it for yourself.”
Warning flared. What did he know? “I don’t understand.”
“I only mean that with this many years between you and scandal, an attempt at redemption would only draw long dead attention to you.”
He understood what others seemed to miss. The years away had been tremendously freeing once she’d accepted the idea that she’d never have the life for which she’d been so well prepared. It wasn’t just the corset and skirts that constricted now. It was the knowledge that mere feet away, there were hundreds of prying eyes watching, judging, waiting for her to make a mistake.
Hundreds of people, with no purpose, desperate to see her fall.
But this time, she was more powerful than any of them.
He spoke again. “No doubt, your love for her is what will make you the heroine of our play.”
“There is no play.”
He smiled, all knowing. “As a matter of fact, my lady, there is.”
How long had it been since someone had used the honorific with her? How long since they’d done it without insult or judgment or artifice?
Had it ever happened?
“Even if there were a play,” she allowed, “it is in no way ours.”