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Demon didn’t want to hear another bloody word.

Forget politeness. Forget propriety.

He dropped her arm and stalked forward.

Forget Society. Forget regret. Remember what Blackrose taught ye?

With a growl he ducked under the horse’s neck, causing the animal to rear. While the Earl was distracted, Demon reached up and grabbed for the man’s torso. He took a handful of Bonkinbone’s winter jacket and tugged, pulling the man out of the saddle.

Before Georgia’s father could recover, Demon had switched his hold on him, hoisting him upright by a fist wrapped around his collar.

“Ye disgust me,” he growled. “What kind of father spews such garbage about a loyal child? One whose only goal has been to please ye? Ye ought to rot in hell!”

“Me?” the man croaked, still managing to sound affronted, although his face was turning red from the pressure. “You are the devil who made the damned bargain!”

Well fook him. The accusation actually made Demon hesitate, made him loosen his grip on the bastard. Bonkinbone seemed to take it as success, because he drew himself up and tugged indignantly on his coat as he yanked himself from Demon’s grasp.

“How dare you touch me in such a way? You think I would give you my brother in exchange for that whore?” He yanked his collar from Demon’s grasp. “When you are done with her, sir, feel free to toss her to the street, where she belongs.”

“Father?”

Fook, it broke Demon’s heart to hear the pleading in Georgia’s voice as she tried to placate the older man.

“Father, your worries are for nothing. Lord Endymion and I made a simple business arrangement, and in exchange your debt is cleared—”

Her father’s face flashed into a snarl and he whirled on her, only to catch himself and settle his expression into something calmer. “You think this was about my debt, you stupid slut?”

Before he could continue, Demon had him by the throat again. He dragged the man’s face close to his. “Dinnae call her that again, auld man,” he growled.

Georgia laid a hand on his arm. “Demon,” she murmured quietly, belying her claims that what they’d shared had been a mere business arrangement.

He wanted to squeeze. He wanted to watch Bonkinbone’s face turn purple, his eyes bulge out as he struggled to breathe. He wanted to feel bones crack beneath his blows.

Not just for the way the arsehole protected Blackrose, but because of the horrible things he’d said to Georgia. His own daughter, his flesh and blood.

The man deserved to die.

But it would upset Georgia.

And he would rather chew off his arm than hurt her.

So he loosened his grip on her father, who once more pulled free with a huff.

But instead of pretended indignation again, the man jabbed a finger at his daughter.

“Your protector was not interested in my debt, girl. He wanted your uncle, my brother. That is what all of this has been about; access to William! This Scot“—he bit out the word, as if it was a curse—"wrote to me right after I sent you to Endymion. Oh, he told me all about the little bargain you two had made, and how he had every intention of ruining you if I did not give him the information he sought about my brother’s whereabouts. He ruined you on purpose, to get what he wanted.”

Georgia was shaking her head, right up until that last statement.

Then she froze, her eyes going wide. As her own father’s expression turned cruelly gleeful, hers slowly drained of all color.

Finally, she turned slowly to Demon, her eyes—green in this morning light—begging him to tell her Bonkinbone had lied. “Demon?” she whispered.

Crapbuckets.

Demon was a man of action.

He wanted to fix things.