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Or lack thereof.

“Besides…” Felicity took a deep breath. “He’s here. Your Demon.”

Georgia shot her friend a sharp look. “I know. He invited us, remember?” Although the personal invite really had been more of a ducal command. Cold, aloof, haughty.

Not at all like him. Like the him she’d grown to know.

Why did he want her here? Her specifically, on this day in particular? His mother was determined to introduce him to Society, and Georgia knew he’d be a success. Society loved a good story, and the gruff, wounded ex-spy who unexpectedly inherited a dukedom…that was a good story.

Besides, they’d be too busy gossiping about her to care about his scars.

Felicity seemed determined to make her point. “After that scene in the park, it is important the two of you talk. Discuss your past.”

“No, thank you,” Georgia replied stiffly. “I learned what I needed to know.”

“After what you shared, you owe it to him to listen,” her friend pushed. “You are here, are you not?”

“You do not understand.” Georgia sighed, fiddling with the beading on the gown she’d borrowed from her friend. “He is uncomfortable—no, he is miserable in public, with all these people looking at him.” He’d been reclusive even before the scars. “I promised I would help him. I promised I would be here.”

“You are.”

Another sigh as her gaze swept over the heads of those stealing glances their way. “But not for him.”

Felicity shook her head stubbornly, causing her simple coiffure to wobble. “You came. That counts!”

“I promised I would stand by his side,” Georgia whispered, eyes filling with tears.

Her loyal friend snorted softly. “Yes, well, he promised—”

“No. He promised nothing.”

That was the trouble. She’d given him her heart, based purely on a bargain with an expiration date. Demon had promised nothing more than to absolve her father’s debt. Which he’d done. She’d been the fool to fall in love.

Suddenly Felicity stiffened. Georgia was about to turn to offer comfort, when she realized what her friend had seen.

Across the crowded ballroom, a woman in a purple gown stepped to one side revealing the knot of people behind her. Standing with his hands behind his back, the Earl of Bonkinbone glared unapologetically at her.

Georgia unconsciously flinched, feeling the sting of her father’s disappointment and disgust from this distance.

You failed him.

No. No, she hadn’t failed. She’d paid his debt for him. For Danielle. She was a loyal daughter.

He is disappointed in you.

No, he was disappointed in her reputation blackening his name. Which was foolish, because he’d been the one to make her association with Demon public. Any blackening was his own fault.

You are better than that. You are better than him. You deserve better.

The thoughts were slow, creeping across the pages of her inner book, but they caused her eyes to widen. Slowly, she straightened, rereading the words.

You deserve better.

Father had always treated her as an extension of his reputation, which is why he’d been so angry at her behavior with Roger. Father hadn’t cared about her happiness or her loyalty or everything she’d done for him. No, he’d only cared for himself.

You deserve better.

Demon had cared.