It had been her pleasure, she realized wryly. Illicit. Exciting. Fun. Exactly the type of adventure she’d always dreamed of. Being married to Benedict Wylde was turning out to be far more interesting than she’d ever envisaged.

She found her mother by the Westons’ refreshments table.

“Ah, there you are, Georgiana. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Georgie mumbled something about needing to see to her dress. Her mother raised her brows as she got a good look at the gown, and Georgie braced herself for a scold, but to her amazement her mother tilted her head and smiled.

“Is that a new dress? I must say, that color suits you very well. Madame Cerise has excelled herself. But you do look a little flushed. I hope you haven’t been overexerting yourself?”

It was all Georgie could do to stifle a snort. Kissing Wylde had been exertion of the sweetest, most dangerous kind. And it was one exercise she wouldn’t mind repeating on a regular basis.

Chapter 21.

Georgie spent the following morning in a frenzy of anticipation. She declined to accompany her mother and sister to Bond Street, certain that if she went out shopping, she would miss Wylde.

They were partners in crime now. Last night’s events had shifted their relationship. But had she merely imagined the flash of newfound respect in his eyes? Were they becoming friends?

She almost jumped out of her seat when the front knocker banged, and footsteps sounded on the stairs. But it wasn’t Wylde who entered the drawing room. It was Josiah.

“Cousin.”

Georgie sent him a thin smile of welcome in front of the maid, but as soon as Tilly left, she allowed even the pretense of civility to drop. She glared at him. “What are you doing here, Josiah? I can’t imagine why you think you’d be welcome after what you did to me at Vauxhall.”

His answering smile was as fake as her own. His obvious lack of remorse was infuriating. “Tilly informs me that your mother and sister are out shopping. That’s good. It’s you I wanted to see.” His oily voice matched his greasy hair.

Georgie eyed him dispassionately. He wasn’t an unattractive man, at least not physically, but the dark rings under his eyes and the yellow tinge to his skin made him look far from his best. She wondered if he’d been drinking or frequenting the numerous opium dens that abounded in the city. He certainly looked as if he hadn’t slept for days. Her lip curled in distaste. “What do you want?”

He eased back into a chair with a smile that chilled her to the bone. “Simply put, money.”

She gave an incredulous laugh. “And you think I’m going to give it to you? Have you taken leave of your senses? I wouldn’t throw a bucket of water on you if you were on fire.”