Loving Lady Georgianna (Spirited #2)

Chapter 27

Hours Earlier

"Dallying with a duke's betrothed. I don't know if I should commend you on your balls or chastise you for your blatant stupidity."

Randall's words met his ears, and Thorne's good mood plummeted to his boots.

He wouldn't have come at all nor passed by Randall's study door, but after last night he needed to see his mother and sisters. Thorne wanted to share the glad tidings. God knew he hadn't been able to sleep anyway. His skin was buzzing as if he had bathed in champagne and been shot out of a bloody cannon. Half singed, but half filled with adrenaline flooding his veins.

For Georgie was finally to be his.

Even now, with Randall's bloated face and his wheezing visage mumbling before him as the oaf tried unsuccessfully to sit up from his lounging sprawl, a smile tugged at the corners of Thorne's lips. Last night had been everything he had remembered it to be and much, much more. How had he gotten so bloody lucky? To have the hand of a gentle woman with sparkling, green eyes and a devilish smile as she had taken him in hand...

His cock stirred behind his breeches, but he willed it down, turning to the mongrel deep in the bowels of his study.

What had Randall been saying?

Oh...right...

"Tell me," Thorne drawled, crossing into the room. "How should I know what thoughts you have of my balls?"

Randall teeth clenched for one moment before his humor, as jolly as it could be, brightened his face. The gleam in his eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders gave Thorne pause. His eyes cased the room, noting the drawn curtains and the muggy air. Randall's study had become a veritable lair for a growling, savage beast. He watched the man society deemed his father, but was nothing more than a rat hiding behind shining pomade and a blue waistcoat

Tipping back a bottle of amber liquor, Randall sloshed it into his cup. He set the glass bottle down beside him with a bang. The glass made it to his lips, a dribble of liquid splashing down his unshaven cheeks and landing upon his waistcoat. "Good to know you still have your humor, Thorne, after the mockery you have made of us all."

Thorne's brow raised, but Randall merely nodded his head at a paper lying upon his desk. Thorne eyed it, grasping the corners and then snorting when he saw what dear papa had been reading.

"Ah yes," Thorne said, giving it a brief once over. "The Scandal Sheet. The most reliable news source. A favorite of gossipmongers everywhere." His eyes stuttered over Lady G- mentioned within, but was careful not to show a tic. He shook it. "What does this have to do with me?"

Randall's smile hardened. "You have a mention in there -"

His eyes flicked up. "It says a Viscount. Last I knew, there were many of us plaguing society."

"That may be, son, but only one with a romantic past with the scarred, Lady G-"

Thorne bristled at the word "son." Prowling about the room, he let the broadsheet fall to the carpet and pressed his heel into it. Thorne stopped next to Randall's snuffbox and picked it up, tinkering with the lid. It clattered in a manner that pleased him and caused Randall to growl.

"The Lady Georgianna cried off her engagement to a duke of all things," Randall spat, "and if the papers are to be believed, she left him for you." He scoffed, taking another long draw of his brandy. "Makes me question the girl's sanity, but in hours time, I wouldn't be surprised to see you facing Burkeley's pistol —"

"Why, Father," Thorne preened, the cover of the snuffbox's delicate china clattering as he flipped the lid with his thumb "if you aren't careful, I'm going to assume that you actually care about my welfare."