Her Only Desire by Gaelen Foley Page A

He clasped his hands behind his back in gentlemanly fashion. “Curious time for a family visit,” he remarked in an ever-so-civilized tone, at which both of her brothers immediately started trying to make excuses for her, but he cut them off with a practiced smile and an idle wave of his hand. “I wonder if I might have a private word with the three of you?”
    â€œYes, of course,” Gabriel murmured at once, dutiful as ever, and Derek nodded, stepping forward, too, but Georgie stopped them.
    â€œThat won’t be necessary,” she announced, turning to Lord Griffith. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he’d get.
    He arched a brow.
    â€œYou boys stay out here,” she ordered, barely glancing at her brothers. “I’m the one who’s earned His Lordship’s wrath. We might as well have this out between us two.”
    â€œAre you sure about this?” he asked softly, a glint of intrigued amusement at her challenge shining in his eye like a star.
    She lifted her chin. “I can fight my own battles.”
    â€œAs you desire.” He swept a formal gesture toward one of the private side rooms off the main courtyard, inviting her to go ahead of him.
    As she lifted the hem of her sari and started toward the nearest parlor, her ayah protested at the impropriety, while Lakshmi fretted in alarm. Georgie told them in Bengali that she would only be a moment. Besides, the man had that blasted saintly reputation. Derek and Gabriel were frowning, but when she shook her head at them with a firm look that told them not to worry—she knew what she was doing—they seemed to accept her move.
    After all, she had gotten herself into this and could jolly well get herself out. Gabriel put his hands in his pockets and leaned against one of the sturdy palm trees to wait for her, while Derek turned and greeted their old nurse with knavish affection. Purnima, for her part, was not happy about any of this.
    Georgie walked toward the room he had indicated, acutely aware of Lord Griffith’s riveting presence behind her, but she was very glad her brothers had chosen not to countermand her decision.
    This was between her and Lord Griffith, and she did not want them involved. She could not risk the marquess taking out his anger at her on
them,
for if he wanted to, he could easily use his high position to give her brothers poor marks in his report following their assignment. One ill word from a man of his influence could cast a shadow over their brilliant military careers, and Georgie knew full well that for Gabriel and Derek both, the army was their life.
    She might not like their dangerous profession any more than she had liked Papa working for the horrid East India Company, but knowing how much soldiering meant to them, she would never do anything to jeopardize their careers.
    At any rate, the fact that Derek and Gabriel had worked with Lord Griffith for nearly a week now, getting to know him and having ample opportunity to size him up for themselves, along with his sterling reputation, no doubt helped to ease their misgivings as their sister marched ahead of him into the private salon.
    He held the door for her, and she ignored a frisson of awareness as she brushed past him into the room.
    He followed her in, closed the door behind him, and turned to face her, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Well, well, Miss Georgiana. Here we are again,” he said in an ironic tone, but she held up a finger, silencing him while she scanned the room for any sign of a peephole or listening grate.
    In these lavish palaces, the very walls had ears.
    A painted mural wrapped around the walls depicted the story of the descent of the Ganges, with flying goddesses and stylized heavenly guardians on horseback. A jewel-toned carpet of intricate weave covered the cool flagstone floor. Overhead, an iron chandelier hung from the beamed ceiling, at midday its candles unlit. The only other