Loving Lady Georgianna (Spirited #2)

Chapter 34: Part Two

With each measured word, Greyson's voice went higher and higher, and Thorne's cringe got deeper and deeper. Hell. His friend was going to kill him! It wouldn't matter a farthing the circumstances. It wouldn't matter that it haunted Thorne days and nights, months and years. He thought back to his conversation with his mother yesterday and had to resist touching his face which in no time would be rearranged completely.

"Hell, Thorne. I'm not cut out for this. At this rate, between Charlie's escapades and my sister's lost love and lost baby...and hell, I just recently heard of a bloody falling statue!"

The reminder of that was yet another thing that gave Thorne nightmares. Despite how hard he tried, he couldn't figure out who would be after Lady Georgianna.

"At this rate, my head will be fully gray by next week," Greyson finished on a mumble.

Thorne was about to return with an answer when a commotion brought his attention upwards. The crowd was parting like the Red Sea.

"What the devil?" Greyson's murmur was exactly what Thorne was thinking, especially as Thorne caught sight of just who was causing waves in the crowd. His jaw almost dropped to the floor when he found the Duke of Burkeley--the composed one, the one who never caused a --barreling past ladies with the barest of apologies as he aimed straight for them.

"What the bloody hell did you do now?" Greyson asked, his fists tightening as he gave Thorne the side eye. "But hell, awfully convenient of him."

Before Thorne could ask what that meant, Thorne felt Burkeley's shadow upon them. And then with a bloody roar, Greyson's fist was drawing back before plowing right into the duke's nose. "You bloody scoundrel! How dare you compromise my sister!"

"Oh, God-" Thorne mumbled, catching Greyson's arm as it lodged back for another go at the duke. "Greyson, stop!"

It took all the strength Thorne had to keep Greyson reined in as Burkeley groaned, holding his nose as a geyser of red shot down his meticulously pressed white linen shirt. His dark head came up as he growled. "What was that for, Claymore?"

"For messing with my sister, you unmitigated arse!" Greyson lunged and Thorne barely held him back.

"Good god, man," Burkeley said, his dark brown eyes sparking as his gaze trained on Georgie's brother. "Ours was a mutual separation, and I don't have time for this nonsense."

That set Greyson off again. "You bloody blighter! You broke my sister's heart and you dare to call it nonsense. Bloody hell, Thorne, get off!"

Thorne only clasped his hands tighter around the man's waist as Burkeley wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve. God, if Thorne hadn't known it was the duke before he wouldn't have recognized him now. Any second now Thorne expected the duke to poof at the audacity of blood on his coat.

"I never hurt your sister, and we do not have time for this." The duke's cold brown gaze snapped to Thorne over Greyson's shoulder. "Where is Georgie?"

"What do you mean where is Georgie?" Greyson growled. "You have no business being anywhere near-"

"Is she not here?" Thorne's voice cut off Greyson's rant, and he tilted his head so Greyson's voice didn't obstruct what the duke was saying. Or the graveness in the duke's face. "What's wrong?"

If possible, the duke's face got darker than Thorne had ever seen it. "What about my mother, Lady Elizabeth? Or Randall?" His dark head swivelled as Burkeley looked at the surrounding party.

Thorne shook his head. "What does Rand..."

"What has happened?" Greyson's face was in the duke's face and his hand tightening in his cravat. "Why are you so concerned with Georgie after you left her? And with a child, no less?"