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But her head was spinning, and she couldn’t make her voice work.

Uncle William was the traitor? The man who betrayed Demon and his friends and England herself? All this time, all Demon had wanted was a way to find him, to bring him to justice.

Well, why did he not just ask?

Uncle William was in Canada; he’d told Father he was leaving to check on his business investments there, but he’d been gone since late summer. Now she saw it for what it truly was…he was hiding.

Georgia shuddered, remembering the way her uncle’s smile always looked like a sneer, the way he watched her when no one else was around. The entitled way he spoke to Father despite being the younger son, as if he was used to command, used to control.

In early November, Father had asked her to collect the last four weeks’ worth of Times newspapers and ship them to his brother, per William’s request. At the time, Georgia had wondered why he hadn’t ordered directly from the publisher. Now she realized he was likely looking for information on his involvement with the events of the summer, and couldn’t trust anyone besides family with the address where he was hiding.

She shuddered again.

“Georgia?” Demon’s hand left hers and traveled to her upper arms, holding her. “Love, I’m sorry. I’m sorry to have to bring ye such news. Sorry I didnae tell ye the truth earlier—”

“Nay,” she croaked, dragging herself back to the here and now. “I—I understand why you did not.”

The secrets he’d held weren’t just his, and even if he had trusted her—a woman he’d only just been fooking—he couldn’t have shared them.

But…her eyes rose to meet his. “You trust me enough to tell me now?”

Chapter 24

Wankwomble, his chest was so tight he thought he might break a rib. The look in her eyes…part wonder, part pain.

His throat thick with emotion, Demon couldn’t tell her what he wanted to say. I trust ye, love.

Instead, he slid his hands back down to hers, and dropped to one knee. Right there, in the middle of his library, the whole place smelling of—of…

If a cacophony was a riot of too many different sounds, what was the collective word for scents?

Anyhow, there he was, on one knee in the middle of all the damned flowers, and she was looking down at him as if he had two heads.

“Demon? What are you doing?”

Wasn’t it obvious? He had to swallow twice to get his voice to work. “I’m proposing to ye.”

Her lips twitched. “Well, stop it, you look ridiculous.”

“Ye cannae say that to a man who is busy emoting.”

“Goodness.” She leaned down. “Is that what you are doing? It sounds painful.”

He scowled.

Her expression melted into a fond smile. “Get up, Demon. You look as if you will start gardening at any moment.”

“For ye, I would.” He’d even learn the proper way to prune a climbing rose. “I got all these flowers, did I no’?”

Her cheeks were flushed—was he embarrassing her, even though there was no one here to see him acting foolish?—as Georgia glanced around the room. “You found all these?”

“Thorne said I needed things which started with G. Goldenrod. Grape Hyacinth—they’re the little purple things, look ridiculous with the goldenrod. Um, Gladys-something.”

“Gladiolas,” she whispered, looking back down at him. “Why, Demon?”

“Because.” He took a deep breath and held it. “Because Thorne—he said I needed a Grand Gesture to show ye how I feel about ye.”

Were there tears in her eyes?