A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(54)

He straightened his spine. The sudden and absolute knowledge that she was storing this moment away for future mockery was alarming.

No one mocked a duke. It was not done.

He narrowed his gaze on the insolent little chit. Apparently no one in that godforsaken scandalous family had informed Georgie of that.

“Tell me, who were you imitating just now?” He was not certain why he’d asked, but it seemed imperative that he know what company he was in.

Georgie’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink but she never dropped her gaze as she cleared her throat. “Lord Haversham, Your Grace.”

Lord Haversham. An admittedly pompous, yet well-respected peer. He drew his brows together as he stared at Georgie but he could not quite bring himself to come to the other man’s defense. Haversham might be respected, but he was insufferable as well. Come to think of it, her impersonation had been rather spot on.

An uncomfortable feeling made it impossible to comment. He had the most ridiculous urge to…to laugh.

Oh bloody hell.

He sighed with exasperation and turned his back on the young lady who was far too pretty for her own good. Such a mischievous soul ought to have a plain face to temper it.

There was no doubt his mother and the others would not be so enchanted by her youthful antics if she were not so appealing to the eyes.

He answered his brother’s questions about the estate, happy to have a distraction from the woman who refused to be ignored. Even now he could feel her gaze on him. He was fairly certain he could feel her, her very presence, like a force of nature in the room with them.

He might as well have turned his back on a thunderstorm.

No, not thunder. Lightning. She was like lightning, silently lighting up the sky with unimaginable energy. Followed, of course, by the ensuing thunder. Then the rain.

Yes, this woman was lightning, and she brought with her all the trouble of a hurricane. He’d best prepare himself for an eventful season.

All this was running through his mind as he answered Nicholas’s questions and inquired politely after Claire’s family. That was, the members of family who had not imposed on his hospitality.

After a time, it became impossible to ignore Georgie any longer. Not without being rude, of course, and if there was one thing he was not, it was rude. He, unlike certain parties in this room, had a keen sense of decorum.

And so, after making polite conversation with Claire and his brother, he turned his attentions once more to Georgie, who was talking quietly with his mother.

Though she might be a chatterbox, she at least had the decency to control her volume.

“Miss Cleveland,” he said with as much ingratiating charm as he could muster.

It was admittedly not much. Nicholas had inherited all the charming wit in the family, along with his rakish grin and his handsome face. Rhys, meanwhile, had received their mother’s blue eyes and the rest of him was anyone’s guess. Perhaps some dearly departed relative was responsible for the severe features and the naturally furrowed brow.

The lady in question seemed unfazed by said brow. Most women cowered or simpered beneath his stare, which he had been told was brooding, at best, and terrifying at worst.

Nicholas had told him that during one of him many lectures about how he ought to relax more and worry less.

Only a man with no responsibilities would suggest such a thing. The rest knew that the moment one let down his guard others would leap to take advantage. But he let his younger brother have these fanciful notions. He could afford them.

Georgie was smiling at him. Of course she was. “Yes, Your Grace?” she prompted.

He frowned. He’d forgotten what he was going to say. Why was she smiling at him like that?

And why, for the love of God, had his mind stopped functioning?

His mother, too, was staring at him, waiting for him to continue. Miss Cleveland…what? Think, man. Comment on the weather. Ask her about her plans for the season.

Bloody hell, say something.

He said the first words that came to mind as his gaze met hers. “Your eyes are green.”

She blinked at him, that smile faltering for the first time since he’d entered the room. He was vaguely aware of his mother’s sudden scowl directed at him in his peripheral vision.

He held Georgie’s gaze as he frowned. Your eyes are green? Bloody hell, he’d sounded like a simpleton.

Those green eyes suddenly lit with laughter and he forgot to be angry with himself as he marveled at the way they sparkled in the firelight. “Indeed they are, Your Grace.” Her lips once again curved up in amusement and he experienced the oddest sensation, as though something inside of him shifted in response.

She leaned forward slightly and lowered her voice as though letting him in on a secret. “How very perceptive of you.”

His lips twitched. What on earth? She was teasing him. Laughing at him. He would not encourage her with a smile.

“Yes, dear” his mother said, her tone far less amused. “I was not aware you had such a keen eye for detail.”

When he turned to face her, he was struck by her searching look as much as the fact that for the first time in a year she appeared…present. Was that because Nicholas was here or because he’d shocked her with his idiocy.

They both seemed to be waiting for him to speak. To explain why he’d blurted out such a mundane fact, perhaps. He cleared his throat. “It’s surprising,” he said by way of explanation. Turning back to Georgie he said, “You and your sisters look so little alike.”