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“Shitenuggets!” he burst out. “What are ye all doing here?”

The two children looked at one another, eyes wide. “Shitenuggets!” They repeated in unison, then burst into giggles.

“Yes, thank you for that,” said the pretty blonde woman now being helped out of the carriage. “Children, you are forbidden from remembering anything your Uncle Demon says in your presence.”

“What, everything?” the girl asked, flabbergasted.

The bearded man wrapped his arm around the blonde woman. “I dinnae think that’s possible, sweetheart.”

“I believe in their ability to do anything they put their minds to,” answered his sweetheart with a grin. “Up to and including world domination.”

The children obviously thought that was great fun. Georgia could hardly breathe. World domination? If anyone could do it…

The light-haired man had stepped forward and now slapped Demon on the shoulder. “We had to come to ye, ye shy bastard, because ye werenae coming to us. We have news! But first…”

He twisted toward Georgia and in a show of what was either horrible manners or ridiculously confident charm, peeled her hand from Demon’s chest. As he bowed over it, he winked at her.

“Ye must introduce me to this ravishing creature, Demon.”

“Georgia, this is Thorne. He’s an arsehole.”

The blond man was still holding her hand. “Viscount Thornebury, Thorne to my friends. Which I hope ye will be, Miss…?”

“Lady,” Demon growled in warning. “Lady Georgia Stoughton. She’s my—”

He hesitated, and Georgia’s eyes fluttered closed on a silent groan.

My prisoner.

My paramour.

My bartered mistress.

How utterly humiliating, to be introduced thus.

But to her surprise, Demon said none of those things. “Mine.”

“’My mine,’” repeated Thorne, and squeezed her hand once more. She opened her eyes in time to see his knowing grin as he eyed the way Demon held her. “How utterly fascinating. Lady Stoughton.”

He and the bearded man exchanged a glance.

The blonde woman came forward now, hand outstretched and a friendly smile on her face. In a bit of a daze Georgia accepted her hand, even as Demon loosened his hold on her waist.

“I’m Sophia,” she said in kind voice. “The handsome devil with the ridiculous beard is my husband Rourke.”

Viscount Thornebury leaned in. “The Duke and Duchess of Exingham.”

Georgia gaped at the pretty woman, who winced and tsked. “Sophia and Rourke is fine. Preferred even. We’re raising Rourke’s niece and nephew—Hunter and Gabrielle, come make your greetings, please.”

As the children bowed and curtseyed—and now Georgia could see why the boy had been teasing his sister; she curtseyed as if she had something she’d rather be doing, like plucking her nose hairs—the Viscount leaned in again.

“The hellion twins,” he whispered, not quite under his breath.

Sophia ignored him. “And this is my husband’s younger brother, Bull Lindsay.”

There was something familiar about the lad, but Georgia couldn’t pinpoint it. As Bull smiled and waved in greeting, before shoving his fine gloves—hands included—into his pockets, Thornebury added more commentary. “Dinnae let him anywhere near yer valuables.”

Demon swung on him. “Fook, Thorne, shut up!”