Read The Ice Duchess: Scandalous Regency Widows, Book 2 for Free Online

to your ploys and dubious charms, Lord Markham. I seriously doubt you could beat me a second time.”
    Rafe stopped outside the card room’s entry and gave her his most charming smile. “Then play with me. I dare you...”

    * * *
    H e trounced her . Again .
    She must be in some sort of nightmare.
    Georgie stormed down the stairs onto the pavement in front of Latimer House, Jonathon following in her wake.
    “Georgie... Wait.”
    She rounded on her brother, her silk skirts swirling and hissing about her legs. “I’ve waited long enough, Jonathon. In fact, I’ve been waiting to go all night.”
    “But it’s drizzling and we’re standing in puddles. At least wait in the vestibule until the carriage is brought round.”
    Georgie scowled at him. He spoke sense, but somehow that made her feel even worse. “I wouldn’t care if I had to wait knee deep in the Thames. The idea of seeing any more of... of that man, even for a second—”
    “I take it you mean me, Duchess?”
    Markham. Here he was yet again, sauntering toward her like some large beast of prey. Why wouldn’t he leave her be?
    “I suppose you’ve come out to appease me a second time,” she snapped then immediately regretted her waspish behavior when Markham flinched. To her added mortification, tears pricked her eyes. It wasn’t just the sting of humiliating defeat, or the fact she was continuing to behave like a fishwife that had her so distressed. It was the fact that she’d let a man like Markham affect her so badly, in ways she didn’t want to think about. She swung away from him and Jonathon and faced the street so they wouldn’t see how upset she really was.
    Thankfully, Markham kept his distance. “No, I was simply taking my leave as well, Your Grace. It has been an eventful evening.”
    Georgie ignored him and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. The rain was icy cold and she could feel it trickling down the back of her neck. She started to shiver.
    Jonathon cleared his throat. “Would you like a ride, Markham?”
    Georgie wanted to kick Jonathon, but she was saved from displaying more unseemly emotion by Markham himself. “Thank you, but no, Sir Jonathon. My residence is but a short stroll away. I bid you good night. And you too, Your Grace.”
    Georgie turned her head a little and inclined her head. She was relieved when she managed to reply without her voice cracking. “Good night, Lord Markham.”
    Just then, their carriage rounded the corner and halted before her. Steadfastly ignoring both the footman and Jonathon’s outstretched hand to help her in, she lifted her damp skirts and climbed the steps herself. She didn’t dare turn back to glance at Markham, although she fancied she could feel the weight of his all too perceptive stare upon her back.
    The dark interior was indeed a welcome relief. She sank into the Moroccan leather seat, leaning her head against the squabs as she closed her eyes. A moment later she heard Jonathon settle himself on the seat opposite before he knocked on the front wall of the carriage to indicate to the coachman they were ready to drive on.
    Thank heavens their Hanover Square residence wasn’t far. She pressed a hand to her temple—her forehead had begun to throb in earnest. All because of Markham . She didn’t want this attraction, this stirring of lust within her. Between her friends and her charities, her properties and affairs in general to manage, she had more than enough to fill her days and nights. She didn’t want a man like Markham, or any man for that matter, to make her feel this way—like something was missing from her life. She suddenly felt as brittle and empty as the discarded champagne flute she’d left sitting on the Latimers’ terrace. And she didn’t like it one little bit.
    “Penny for your thoughts, sis?”
    Georgie opened her eyes and sighed wearily, a shaky, rattling breath that clearly betrayed how close she was to tears. “There’s nothing for it,