Rhys would murder that little mite.

He had no idea what had gone on between Georgie and that dandy during their dance but he did not like it. She’d been lighthearted and full of good spirits when she’d walked away from him a little while ago. But now she looked distressed.

And that Lord Malcolm character… Well, he’d looked entirely too smug.

“Dear, you are frightening the ladies,” his mother murmured beside him. She’d said it behind a fan so as to avoid anyone eavesdropping or lip reading, apparently.

He forcibly eased his glower. Now he was merely frowning in his typical manner.

Nicholas seemed to appear out of nowhere at his side, Claire with him. “Who are we glaring at, brother?”

He turned said glare on Nicholas. “It is none of your concern.” The moment the words slipped out he realized how erroneous they were. If that poet fool had insulted Georgie, it was far more Nicholas’s concern than his. She was under Nicholas’s protection during her stay. She was merely his houseguest.

Practically another brother.

“Whoever they are, they ought to be frightened. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so emotional,” Claire murmured.

When he glanced over he saw that her sweet smile held a hint of mischief. Funny how he’d never noticed that before. Perhaps the Cleveland family held more scandal than their father’s philandering and their brother’s gambling. Perhaps they were the offspring of sprites and imps.

Now that would give the ton something to talk about.

He, however, had no interest in the Clevelands or their amusement. The whole bloody family with all their mischievous daughters could fend for themselves for all he cared, and he—Oh hell, he was working himself into a tizzy once again over the blasted Cleveland women. One in particular whose look of discontent had left him rattled.

A new sense of alarm jangled his nerves.

He stared at Claire in disbelief because she had been right. He may not have said it aloud but that internal tirade was the most emotional he could ever remember being over anything these past few years, aside from his father’s death, of course.

But death was another matter entirely. An excess of emotions could be expected when one was mourning. It was normal. Suitable, even.

Irrational anger over a man he hardly knew and little minx who was neither a relation nor a prospective bride, on the other hand? That was lunacy. Something which had unfortunately been in the air ever since that blonde witch had arrived on his doorstep.

“My emotional state is none of your concern,” he said stiffly.

Nicholas, for one, didn’t seem to be deterred by his comment. If anything, his curiosity seemed to heighten, along with Claire’s. “Come, Rhys, perhaps we can help. If someone here has offended you in some way—” Nicholas started.

“Or perhaps it’s a lady,” Claire interjected.

He looked to his mother in horror, waiting for her to intercede with some cold, cutting remark that would put his brother and his decidedly non-demure wife in their proper place.

She appeared to be too distracted to notice that her daughter-in-law had overstepped her bounds. “Who was that fellow your sister was dancing with?” she asked, that cold gaze fixed on Lord Malcolm as he danced with another young woman.

“I don’t like the look of him or his forward behavior toward your sister,” his mother said quietly. To Claire, she added, “I would keep an eye on them if I were you.”

Concern flashed in Claire’s pretty blue eyes, but then she stiffened and lifted her chin. “With all due respect, Your Grace, do not be fooled by my sister’s antics. Georgie might seem irrepressible, but she is wiser than you think.”

Ha! It required effort to stifle a scornful bark of laughter. Instead he adjusted his cravat and sniffed. “If you say so, Lady Nicholas.”

She arched her brows slightly at his use of her honorific title, which he rarely used when they were speaking among family, but amusement still tinged her voice. “You may not believe me now, Your Grace, but I trust you will in time.” She stressed his title with an impish grin that shared such a resemblance to Georgie’s it nearly knocked him off his feet.

Metaphorically, of course. He was hardly so clumsy as all that.

She moved closer and lowered her voice. “I would even go so far as to say this bears as a warning.”

Now it was his turn to arch his brows in surprise. “A warning?”

She nodded, her lips pressed together in barely concealed amusement. “Some find her unique blend of whimsy and earnestness to be quite endearing. In fact, Georgie has a tendency to charm even the hardest of hearts.” Grinning, she patted his arm lightly as one might console a stubborn child. “I wouldn’t try to fight it if I were you.”

He stared at her in stunned disbelief. Him, charmed by a superficial chatterbox like Georgie? She must have lost her senses when she married his brother. He was ready to say just that when her attention was caught by someone behind him.

“Oh look,” she said to their party at large. “Jed has arrived.”

Rhys glanced over to see Nicholas’s reaction. It was no secret that Nicholas’s relationship with his best friend had become strained since he’d married his sister. Sure enough, Nicholas’s smile seemed to wilt at the sight of his erstwhile friend.

Claire turned to him. “Shall we go greet him?”

Jed saw them and stopped, smiling at Claire but ignoring the rest of them, including Nicholas.

“You go on ahead,” Nicholas said to Claire. “I’ll be over shortly but I am certain your brother would appreciate a private word.”

Claire looked like she might protest but with a sigh she relented. She gave her husband a wink that Rhys was embarrassed to witness. “I will try to ease the way.”

Nicholas laughed and the look they shared made Rhys look away in discomfort. Really, this level of public affection was most unusual and extraordinarily inappropriate.

Married couples shouldn’t demonstrate their affection to this extent. It was unseemly.

The moment she walked away, Nicholas turned to him with a grave expression. “Is Mother correct? Do I need to worry about Lord Malcolm and Georgie?”

Rhys hesitated. He had no firm knowledge that anything untoward had occurred. At the moment it was merely a suspicion, and Nicholas had enough emotional family intricacies to resolve this evening with his brother-in-law.

Besides, Rhys had an inexplicable urge to handle this matter on his own.

A memory of Georgie’s glittering green eyes flashed in his mind’s eye. The way she looked at him was so forthright. So full of life and laughter but also held that spark of intelligence. More than all that, what was truly unnerving, was the way she not only looked, but saw.

He had the impression she saw entirely too much.

“You have nothing to fear,” he said to Nicholas. “If anything is amiss, I will handle it.”

Nicholas jerked back in surprise. “You?”

“Yes, me.”

Nicholas stared at him for so long, Rhys looked away again in discomfort, once more seeking out Georgie in the crowd. Solely to assure himself that she was not speaking to that nefarious upstart.

She was not. Good.

Relief was swift and irrational.

Georgie had joined Jed and Claire and the three were talking animatedly as the Clevelands seemed wont to do.

He kept his gaze upon her as Nicholas questioned him once more. “Are you certain? You have never shown much interest in playing the role of chaperone.”

Straightening, he gave his brother a disdainful glare. Playing chaperone. What nonsense. He wasn’t her chaperone any more than he was her brother or her guardian.

He was a duke, for the love of God. And her host. Surely that was the reason he felt this alarming protectiveness toward the girl. The urge to swoop in and save the day. Take her into his arms and keep her from harm.

Any good host would do the same.

He kept her in his sights that night, even as he spoke with several ladies of the list. He was starting to think of them this way now, thanks to Georgie. Ladies of the list. It gave them a rather mythological air, though in reality there was nothing fanciful about any particular lady. Anyone with an ounce of—what was the term Claire had used? Whimsy. Anyone with an ounce of whimsy would never have made his list.

After speaking with four such ladies, he was no closer to narrowing down his choices and the ball was reaching its denouement. One ball down and no bride to be found. The thought was disheartening to say the least, as it meant he’d be forced to endure more of these social events in the very near future.

Fortunately his new houseguest seemed to behave herself, at least as far as he could see. But it was Lord Malcolm who worried him. Georgie might not seek out danger, but that Lord Malcolm chap seemed the type to take advantage of a lively girl’s romantic notions.

He shifted his focus as the night wore on, following Lord Malcolm’s movements rather than Georgie’s. When the younger man left the ballroom to join some gentlemen to the billiard room, he followed.

He helped himself to some brandy as he listened to Lord Malcolm and his cohorts laugh and gossip like a bunch of old spinsters. Their tone was biting as they mocked Miss Thistle with her unfortunate buck teeth and old Lady Burnbaum with her regrettable halitosis.

Their amusement turned his initial disapproval into outright scorn. If it hadn’t been clear before, it certainly was now. Lord Malcolm was not merely a dandy, he was a bully to boot. A charmer with the ladies—a womanizing rake, no doubt. But on top of that he had the callous heart of a rogue.

Lord Malcolm might have an honorific title, but this man was no gentleman. There was no way he could allow his attentions to Georgie to continue. As if her name was summoned by his thoughts, Georgie’s name jarred him from his thoughts as he hovered in the corner by the snifter.

“What’s transpiring between you and the Cleveland girl?” one of the men asked. “Is she your latest interest?”

Rhys stiffened but did not move. The others hadn’t seemed to pay him much mind, if they noticed him there at all. Several other gentlemen had come and gone but this group of cads was too intent on their own entertainment to notice anything.

The young redhead who’d spoken looked as though he were still a schoolboy but his question was clearly directed to Lord Malcolm, who wore a smile so smug it was nearly impossible to resist striking him.

“Georgie?” he asked as though it were completely appropriate to be using her nickname in company such as this. He picked up a billiard stick and sauntered toward the fellow who’d spoken. “Now there’s an amusing lass.”

“She’s certainly a beauty,” one of the men said.

Rhys found he was clenching the glass in his hand with such force it was in danger of breaking in his grip. He forced himself to set it down.

“A beauty and bit of fun,” Lord Malcolm said. “But that’s all, gentlemen.”

“So you’re not courting her then?” the redhead said.

Lord Malcolm scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. She’s not wife material.”

“Does she know that?” another asked, his tone laced with wicked amusement. “The poor girl is clearly besotted.”

Lord Malcolm laughed and the sound of it made Rhys’s blood boil in his veins.

“She’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, I plan to enjoy her…attentions.”

The men snickered at the simple word, which Lord Malcolm had managed to imbue with abhorrent meaning.

“You’ve got her wrapped around your finger then,” the redhead said with a juvenile laugh.

“Oh yes.” He turned to the other with a wink. “In the garden at midnight.”

The laughter that followed made it clear that this was an inside joke, or, at the very least, a common occurrence. Either Lord Malcolm made a habit of seducing young innocents at midnight or he liked the others to believe it.

Rhys stood frozen in the corner for a moment, torn between his desire to attack this man who uttered Georgie’s name with such disregard and the desire to chase Georgie down and whisk her away somewhere safe.

He took a deep breath and picked up the glass for one fortifying sip as his mind once more kicked into gear, overriding his primal response. A lifetime of training made him cold and rational in the fact of a threat. Though for quite possibly the first time in his life, he acted without thinking the situation through. There was no time to stand here and dither when his Georgie—or rather, his houseguest—had her honor maligned.

He took a step forward, out of the shadows and closer to the circle of hooligans. They seemed to notice him now and he was gratified to see Lord Malcolm’s smirk falter at his appearance.

So Lord Malcolm hadn’t been aware of him, that much he’d guessed. Not even this callous upstart would be so rash as to speak unkindly of his relations within his earshot.

Not that she was a relation. He was certainly not “another brother” as she’d put it.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” he said in his very best ducal tones.

Those who hadn’t seen him approach started at the sound of his voice and Lord Malcolm and the others visibly stiffened. He felt a surge of triumph at their reaction.

Some days it truly was good to be a duke.

He took a leisurely sip of his drink now that he had their attention. Once the room was silent enough to hear Lord Malcolm’s shallow breathing, he continued. “Who were you just speaking of?”

When no one immediately answered, he arched his brows. “Surely not Miss Cleveland.”

No one responded because by now they must have been aware that he’d heard all.

His mind was busy shifting through his options, an exercise he ought to have undertaken before approaching, but his adrenaline and his rage on Georgie’s behalf had demanded an instantaneous response.

He could call him out. It was his right as her protector, but that would bring more scandal than it eliminated. No, much as he adored the idea of killing this ass, that sort of reaction was unwarranted.

He straightened. This situation called for diplomacy, or at the very least, a show of power. That was all. He just needed to let them know that Georgie was under his protection. No one would toy with her if they knew she was of special regard to the duke.

He turned to Lord Malcolm. “Do you have a particular interest in her, Lord Malcolm?”

The man’s handsome features twisted slightly and a flush rose up his neck. He could practically see the man scrambling to figure out how much he might have heard and what he could say to make this situation better. “Not as such, Your Grace.” At Rhys’s scowl, he added, “Though she is a lovely girl.”

“Mmm.” He took another sip. “She is beautiful, is she not?”

Some of the tension eased around him at his benign answer. Lord Malcolm took a breath of relief as he most assuredly assumed he was out of trouble.

No, Rhys would not call him out on his words. To do so would cause more trouble for Georgie and give them more reason to gossip. When Lord Malcolm’s smirk began to return, he found himself saying, “I’m glad to hear you have no intention of pursuing her, Lord Malcolm, as I have a particular interest in her myself.”

The gasps behind him were satisfying as was Lord Malcolm’s pallor.

There. He set his glass down on an end table as he gave the gentlemen a parting nod. Now it was understood that she was his.

Or rather, under his protection.

His chest swelled with a possessive satisfaction he didn’t care to dissect.

Yes, some days it was indeed good to be a duke.