Oh, she was mortified all right to be found looking like this, and in such an intimate position, but at least this time it wasn't her fault. She had been behind closed doors, doing what she had every right to do.

Anthony should be the one embarrassed for just walking in without warning, but he didn't look the least bit embarrassed. He looked merely annoyed.

"It's good to see you, too, brother," he said in reply to James's heated statement. "But not your little wench there. You've got about two minutes to dispose of the chit before the wife comes up to welcome you home."

"George isn't going anywhere, but you can take yourself out of here."

"You're foxed, is that it? Can't remember that this ain't a bachelor residence anymore?"

"There's nothing wrong with my memory, old boy, and there's no need to hide George. She's—"

"Now we're done for," Anthony interrupted in vexation as they heard someone coming down the hall.

"Stick her under the bed or something . . . Well, don't just stand there!" and he reached for Georgina himself.

"Touch her, lad," James warned softly, "and you'll end up stretched out on the floor yourself."

"Well, I like that," Anthony replied huffily, but he backed off. "Fine. Then you talk your way out of this.

But if I end up having a row with Roslynn over it, I'll bloody well take it out of your hide, see if I don't."

"Anthony," James said simply. "Shut up."

He did just that. Leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for the fireworks to start. He'd barely spared Georgina more than a cursory glance. Now he watched the open doorway, waiting for his wife to appear.

By this time, Georgina was expecting a veritable dragon to enter the room. Anyone who could cause that tall, physically perfect man to worry that she might be upset with him had to be very formidable indeed. But Roslynn Malory didn't look intimidating when she came through the door, offering James a blinding smile, which she passed on to Georgina. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, not much taller than Georgina, not much older, and, by the looks of it, not much more pregnant than Georgina was.

"Jeremy just stopped me on the stairs to tell me you've gotten married, James. Is this true?"

"Married?" Anthony's interest perked up.

"I thought you said you hadn't convinced Jeremy," Georgina said to James.

"I didn't. The dear boy is being tediously loyal where he thinks it will count. Notice he didn't tell Tony the same thing. Because he still doesn't believe it himself."

"Married?" Anthony said again, and got no more notice than before.

Roslynn asked. "What doesn't Jeremy believe?"

"That George here is my viscountess."

"Clever of you to find another name for it, James,'' Georgina said. "But that one I object to, so find another. You won't be sticking any English titles on me."

"Too late, love. The title came with the name."

"Married?"Anthony shouted this time, and finally got James's attention. "That's doing it up a bit much, isn't it, just to get out of a scolding?"

And before James could comment one way or the other, Roslynn asked her husband, "Who in their right mind would try to scold him ?"

"You would, sweetheart."

Roslynn chuckled, a deep, husky sound that had Georgina blinking in surprise to hear it. "I seriously doubt that, Anthony, but why don't you tell me why you think I would."

Anthony waved a hand in Georgina's general direction, not even deigning to look at her. "Because he's come home with . . . with his latest . . . well, with her ."

And that was just a little bit too much for Georgina to tolerate without her temper rising. "I'm not a 'her,'

you pompous ass," she said quietly, but with a good deal of bristling animosity in her expression. "I'm an American, and, for the moment, a Malory."

"Well, bully for you, sweetheart," Anthony came back sneeringly. "But then you'd say anything he told you to say, wouldn't you?"

At that, Georgina turned on James and poked him in the ribs. "It won't be necessary to convince anyone else? Isn't that what you said?"

"Now, George," James said placatingly. "This is nothing to lose your temper over."

"I don't have a temper!" she yelled at him. "And I don't have a marriage either, as far as your family's concerned. So I guess that means you'll be finding yourself another room, won't you?"

It was the wrong thing to threaten him with, when his body had yet to completely cool down from what they'd been doing before they were so rudely interrupted. "Like bloody hell I will. You want him convinced? I'll show you just how easy my baby brother is to convince." And he started toward Anthony with fists clenched.

Alarmed at this sudden turn, Roslynn quickly stepped in front of James, who looked as if he might just tear her husband limb from limb if he reached him. "Och now, there'll be no fighting in my home. Why have you let him rile you, man? You ken how he is."

And Anthony said, a bit more diplomatically, "You are pulling our collective leg here aren't you, old man?"

"If you'd use your head instead of your arse to think with, you'd know this is one subject I would never joke about," came James's scathing reply.

Anthony straightened slowly, coming away from the wall. Georgina, watching him, could have said to the very second when he finally believed James, his expression turned so comical in his amazement. It still took about five more seconds before he burst out, "Good God, you actually did it, didn't you?" and he promptly started laughing, so hard he had to hold on to the wall for support.

"Bloody hell," James swore under his breath.

Roslynn sent Georgina an apologetic smile, but to James, who was staring at Anthony in disgust, she said, "You should have expected this. I've heard you ribbed him unmercifully when he married me."

"Not because he married you, my dear, but because he couldn't find his way over the wall you set down in the center of the marriage bed."

Roslynn pinkened with the reminder of how long it had taken for her to forgive Anthony for his supposed infidelity. Anthony started to sober, for that was a subject he didn't find amusing now, any more than he had then. But into the pause following James's vexing remark, Georgina let them all know she was none too amused herself. In fact, she'd briefly contemplated putting on one of her shoes just so she could kick both Malory men.

Instead, she said, "Now, there's a problem you just might be facing yourself, James Malory."

And that sent Anthony off with a new peal of laughter, and turned James's scowl on his wife. "Blister it, George, you can see he's convinced."

"What he is, is convulsed with hilarity, and I'd like to know just what is so funny about your having married me?"

"Damnation, it's nothing to do with you! It's that I've married at all!"

"Then why don't you tell him it wasn't your idea, that my brothers—"

"George—!"

"—forced you?"

Having failed in his effort to stop her, James closed his eyes in anticipation of what that little gem was going to produce by way of reactions. It was too much to hope Anthony might not have heard her.

"Forced?" Anthony said incredulously, pausing only long enough to wipe moisture from his eyes. "Well, now, that makes more sense, indeed it does. Should have said so right off, old boy." But he'd held back too long to say that much. "Forced?" he choked out once more before bursting into laughter again, even harder than before.

Very quietly, James told Roslynn, "Either drag him out of here or he's not going to be much use to you

for several months . . . possibly a whole bloody year."

''Now, James,'' she tried to placate him and keep the grin off her own lips while doing it. "You have to admit it's rather farfetched that you could be forced ..." His darker glower turned her attention to her husband instead. "Anthony, do stop. It's not that funny."

"Devil ... it ... ain't," he gasped out. "How many, James? Three? Four?" When James just scowled at him, he looked to Georgina for the answer.

She was also scowling at him, but said, "If you're asking how many brothers I have, there were five at last count."

"Thank God!" Anthony gave a mock sigh between chuckles. "Thought you were slipping there for a moment, brother. Now you've got my complete sympathy."

"Like hell I do," James snarled, and started toward Anthony again.

But Roslynn intervened once more, this time grabbing her husband's arm. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" she admonished, pulling him toward the door.

"I've hardly begun," he protested, but a glance back at James made him amend, "You're right, sweetheart, indeed you are. And didn't you tell Jason we'd pay him a visit while he's in town? By God, I don't think I've ever looked forward so to seeing the elders, or had such interesting news to tell 'em."

Anthony was barely out the door before it was slammed behind him, but that only started his laughter again, particularly when he heard the muffled string of oaths from the other side.

Roslynn gave him an exasperated look. "You really shouldn't have done that."

"I know." Anthony grinned.

"He might not forgive you."

"I know." His grin widened measurably.

She clicked her tongue. "You're not the least bit repentant, are you?"

"Not one bloody bit." He chuckled. "But damn me, I forgot to congratulate him."

She jerked him back sharply. "Don't you dare! I happen to like your head on your shoulders."

In an abrupt change of interest, he cornered her up against the wall there in the hallway. "Do you?"

"Anthony, stop!" She laughed, trying only halfheartedly to avoid his lips. "You're incorrigible."

"I'm in love," he countered huskily. "And men in love usually are incorrigible."

She gasped as he nipped her ear. "Well, when you put it that way . . . our room is just down the hall."

Chapter Forty-one

"Good God!" Anthony said when James and Georgina entered the dining room the next morning. "How

the devil did I fail to notice you've got yourself a prime article there, James?"

"Because you were too busy ribbing me," James replied. "And don't start again, lad. Be grateful my night was more pleasant after your departure."

Georgina blushed, wanting to kick him for saying something like that. Anthony was saved from the same wish, simply because she had no idea the prime article he referred to was herself. And since the night had been very pleasant for her as well, and she was now looking her best in a deep plum-colored gown of plush velvet that fit her perfectly, She was feeling mellow enough not to make a comment to either of them.

But Anthony couldn't seem to take his eyes off her, and his wife finally did some kicking of her own under the table. He flinched but was not the least bit put off, even when James started frowning at him.

Finally he said, with some exasperation, "Where the deuce have I seen you before, George? You look damned familiar, damn me if you don't."

"My name isn't George," she told him as she took her seat. "It's Georgina, or Georgie to my friends and family. Only James can't seem to remember that."

"Are we hinting that I'm senile again?" James asked, one brow crooking.

She grinned sweetly at him. "If the shoe fits."

"If memory serves, I made you eat that shoe the last time you tried forcing it on my foot."

"And if memory serves," she countered, "I believe it was delicious."

Anthony had watched this byplay with interest while he patiently waited to repeat his question. But the question was quite forgotten when he noted that James's eyes were suddenly smoldering with an inner heat that had nothing to do with anger. Passion flaring over a shoe? And she'd eaten the thing?

"Is this a private joke?" he asked mildly, "or do we get to hear the punch line?"

"You get to hear how we met, Sir Anthony."

"Ah ha!" he said triumphantly. "I knew it. I'm deuced good at this sort of thing, don't you know. So where was it? Vauxhall? Drury Lane?"

"A smoky tavern, actually."

And Anthony's eyes went from her to James, one brow slanting, an affectation that must run in the family, Georgina decided. "I should have known. After all, you had developed a taste for barmaids."

But James wasn't in a mood to be riled just now. Grinning, he said, "You're thinking with your arse again, dear boy. She didn't work there. Come to think of it, I never did find out what she was doing there."

"The same thing you were, James," Georgina told him. "Looking for someone."

"And who were you looking for?" Anthony asked his brother.

"Not me, you. This was the day you dragged me over half of London searching for your wife's cousin."

A day Anthony would never forget, so he was quick to point out, "But your Margie was a blond."

"And my George is a brunette, with a fondness for male togs."

And Anthony's eyes came back to Georgina with perfect recall. "Good God, the vixen who leaves bruises on shins! I thought you'd had no luck finding her, James."