What was she planning?
He’d been looking for Georgiana since he’d arrived, having lost her and all the owners of the casino earlier in the day. When he had left her rooms and headed to the floor of the hell, the place had been quiet – if one did not consider the banging on the doors, the shouting, and the near riot in the street.
He’d thought to destroy Chase and set Georgiana free.
And, instead, he’d destroyed all that she’d worked for.
“Good play with the reward, West.” A man Duncan did not recognize approached from a nearby table, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time we scare the bastard out of his hole – after all, he’s been fleecing us for years! I’m surprised they’re still letting you in!”
Another approached. “But you are willing to put five thousand quid on it? You’ll get hundreds of people tossing false names at you.”
He already had them – speculation had begun arriving at his offices, theories based on everyone from His Royal Highness to the son of a Temple Bar fishmonger. “I shall know the truth when I see it,” he said, disengaging from the conversation.
Of course, he had not known the truth when he’d seen it. In the hours since her revelation, he’d found a dozen ways he should have known that she was more than she seemed. That she was stronger, smarter, more powerful than the men who gamed at these tables each night.
But he had misjudged her, just as the rest of London had.
At the far end of the room, he saw Viscount Langley at a hazard table, throwing the dice with gusto. If the cheers that rose around him were to be believed, Langley was on a roll. He was moving before he had time to think better of it.
Making his way across the floor toward the viscount, Duncan thought back to that first night, on the balcony with Georgiana, when she’d named Langley her choice of suitor.
He remained a good choice.
Unmarked. Noble. He would care for her.
Or West would make certain he suffered abominably.
Langley tossed the dice. Won again. Frustration settled heavy in Duncan’s chest. Why did this man win, where Duncan would no doubt lose?
He watched the viscount for long minutes, until he lost, and the dice were relinquished to a croupier. Duncan resisted the pleasure that came at the groans. “Langley,” he said, and the viscount turned toward him, curiosity made even greater by the fact that they’d never spoken.
He pulled the viscount aside. “My lord, I am Duncan West.”
Langley nodded. “I recognize you. I confess, I am rather a supporter – you have won my vote for a number of bills that we’ll be looking at this season.”
Duncan was set back by the compliment. “Thank you.” He’d support the marriage, but did he have to like the man?
He took a breath, released it, and the viscount tilted his head, leaning in, “Sir, are you unwell?”
Yes.
He would be unwell forever once she became the Viscountess Langley, but he had promised her this moment. This win.
Tit for tat.
“You are courting Lady Georgiana,” he said.
Surprised, Langley looked away and then back, and West saw the guilt in his eyes. He did not like the pause – the meaning in it, as though Langley was not, in fact, courting Georgiana.
Except he did like it.
He liked it a great deal.
“Are you not?”
Langley hesitated. “Is this for publication? I have seen how keen your newspapers have been for Lady Georgiana’s return to Society.”
“It is not for publication, but I hope my newspapers have made a positive impression.”
The viscount smiled. “My mother is certainly invested in the lady.”
Success, he supposed.
“I imagine some would call my interactions with the lady courtship,” Langley replied, finally, and Duncan heard the edge of doubt in the words.
Duncan wanted to roar his disapproval. Did the man not see what he had been offered? “Are you mad? She is a tremendous catch. Beyond measure. Any man would be proud to call her his. She could have a king if she wished it.”
What had begun as surprise on Langley’s face was soon transformed into careful curiosity, making Duncan feel like a proper ass when he was finished.
The viscount did not hesitate in his reply, keen understanding in his tone. “It strikes me that it is not a king who wishes for her. Quite the opposite.”
Duncan’s gaze narrowed at the suggestion. At the truth in it. “You overstep yourself.”
“Likely, but I know what it is to want something you cannot have. I see now why you have taken such a keen interest in the lady.” Langley paused and said, “If I could trade my title for your freedom, I would.”
Duncan was suddenly deeply uncomfortable with the conversation. “That is where you are wrong. There is no freedom in being untitled. Indeed, if anything, there is less of it.”
The title brought security. Safety.
He, instead, lived in constant fear of discovery.
And that fear would ever shadow his future.
He met the viscount’s gaze. “You are her choice.”
Langley smiled. “If that is true – and I am not certain it is – I would be honored to have the lady to wife.”
“And you will care for her.”
One of the viscount’s brows rose. “If you do not, yes.”
The insolence from the titled pup made Duncan want to upend the hazard table from whence he’d come. He could not care for her. He would not saddle her with his life. With his secrets.