Never Judge a Lady by Her Cover (The Rules of Scoundrels #4)(8)

She stepped forward, into the light, and two of the women gasped. Sophie blinked. And the little Napoleon of a leader stared quite perfectly down her nose at Georgiana, who stood an easy eight inches above her. “You were not included in the conversation.”

“But I should be, don’t you think? As its subject?”

She’d give the other girls credit; they all had the decency to look chagrined. Not so their leader. “I do not wish to be seen conversing with you,” she said cruelly, “I would be afraid your scandal would stain me.”

Georgiana smiled. “I wouldn’t let that worry you. My scandal has always sought out…” She paused. “… higher ground.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide.

Georgiana pressed on. “Do you have a name?”

Eyes narrowed. “Lady Mary Ashehollow.”

Of course she was an Ashehollow. Her father was one of the most disgusting men in London – a womanizer and a drunk who had no doubt brought the pox home to his wife. But he was Earl of Holborn, and thus accepted by this silly world. She thought back on the file The Fallen Angel had on the earl and his family – his countess a wicked gossip who would no doubt happily drown kittens if she thought it would help her move up in the social structure. Two children, a boy at school and a girl, two seasons out.

A girl no better than her parents, evidently.

Indeed, lady or no, the girl deserved a thorough dressing-down. “Tell me. Are you betrothed?”

Mary stilled. “It’s only my second season.”

Georgiana advanced, enjoying herself. “One more and you’re on the shelf, aren’t you?”

A hit. The girl’s gaze flitted away and back so quickly that another might have missed it. Another who was not Chase. “I have a number of suitors.”

“Mmm.” Georgiana thought back to Holborn’s file. “Burlington and Montlake, I understand – they’ve got enough debt to overlook your faults for access to your dowry —”

“You’re one to talk about faults. And dowries.” Mary chortled.

The poor girl didn’t know that Georgiana had five years of life and fifty years of experience on her. Experience dealing with creatures far worse than a little girl with a sharp tongue. “Ah, but I do not pretend that my dowry is unnecessary, Mary. Lord Russell does perplex, however. What’s a decent man like him doing sniffing around someone like you?”

Mary’s mouth went wide. “Someone like me?”

Georgiana leaned back. “With your appalling lack of social grace, I mean.”

The barb hit true. Mary pulled back as though she’d been physically struck. Her friends covered their gaping mouths, holding back laughter that they could not help. Georgiana raised a brow. “Cruelty lacks pleasure when it’s directed at you, doesn’t it?”

Mary’s anger came sharp and unpleasant. And expected. “I don’t care how large your dowry is. No one will have you. Not knowing what you really are.”

“And what is that?” Georgiana asked, laying her trap. Willing the girl into it.

“Cheap. A trollop,” Mary said, cruelly. “Mother to a bastard who will likely grow into a trollop.”

Georgiana had expected the first, but not the last. Her blood ran hot. She stepped into the golden light spilling from the ballroom, her words quiet. “What did you say?”

There was silence on the balcony. The other girls heard the warning in the words. Murmured their concern. Mary took a step back, but was too proud to retreat. “You heard me.”

Georgiana advanced, pressing the girl from the light. Into darkness. Where she reigned. “Say it again.”

“I —”

“Say it again,” Georgiana repeated.

Mary closed her eyes tightly. Whispered the words. “You’re cheap.”

“And you’re a coward,” Georgiana hissed. “Like your father and his father before him.”

The girl’s eyes shot open. “I did not mean…”

“You did,” Georgiana said quietly. “And I might have forgiven you for what you called me. But then you brought my daughter into it.”

“I apologize.”

Too late. Georgiana shook her head. Leaned in. Whispered her promise. “When your entire world comes crashing down around you, it will be because of this moment.”

“I am sorry!” Mary cried, hearing the truth in the words. As well she should. Chase did not make promises she did not keep.

Except she was not Chase tonight. She was Georgiana.

Christ.

Georgiana had to back away from the moment. Mask her anger before she revealed too much. She stepped away from Mary and laughed, loud and light, a sound she’d perfected on the floor of her club. “You lack the courage of your convictions, Lady Mary. So easily frightened!”

The other girls laughed, and poor Mary came unhinged, disliking the way she’d been so thoroughly toppled from her position. “You’ll never be worthy of us! You’re a whore!”

Her friends gasped collectively, and silence fell on the balcony. “Mary!” one of them whispered after a long moment, voicing their mutual shock and disapproval at the words.

Mary was wild-eyed, desperate to resume her place at the top of the social pyramid. “She started it!”