Heart of a Scoundrel (Handful of Hearts Book 4)

by Jenna Jaxon

  “And you must call me Celinda.” She sighed. “It is an unfortunately exceptional name, but the only one I have.”

  Chapter 5

  Candlelight glittered throughout the first floor of Mrs. Doyle’s townhouse, illuminating both drawing rooms and the small tea parlor now turned refreshment room. Amanda stood at the entrance to the second card room and gazed about, well-pleased so far with her first foray into entertaining on such a lavish scale. Their twenty-odd guests were spread between the two main rooms, creating a pleasant din with their chatter, the clink of glasses, and the soft whirr of shuffling cards.

  Earlier Amanda and Mrs. Doyle had greeted their guests, who were then steered toward one room, until it filled, then to the other. Lord Somersby arrived just as they were directing guests into the second room.

  “Good evening, Lord Somersby.” Mrs. Doyle gave him a pleasant smile, even though Amanda knew her chaperone had received the same news about the young earl as she had. Their conversation on the way home from Lady Ivor’s on Saturday had not been pleasant.

  “Good evening, my lord.” Amanda curtsied, spreading the skirts of her white silk and lace gown, her knees weakening at the warm smile on his lips. “The first room is full, I fear, so you will have your pick of the tables in the second room.” She glanced hopefully at her chaperone. Might she be allowed to show him into the room?

  “No, Amanda, you may not leave me until all our guests arrive,” Mrs. Doyle whispered to her then spoke in full voice to their next guest. “Lady Margaret, how lovely to see you. Yes, just through here.” She steered the woman toward the room on the right. “Lord Somersby, will you be so kind as to escort Lady Margaret?”

  “My absolute pleasure, Mrs. Doyle.” He turned and offered his arm. “Lady Margaret, you are the very person I would choose to partner me at whist.” They moved off into the room.

  Amanda sighed and returned to greeting their guests. In between arrivals, she craned her neck, trying to get a glimpse of him, but he’d apparently taken a seat at a table out of her line of sight.

  They greeted the last of their guests, Mr. Charles Hyde-Johns, and Mrs. Doyle sent him off to the second drawing room with a sigh of relief. Then she turned to Amanda, a hand on her shoulder. “Just remember, my dear, no matter the circumstances, it is never wise to allow a gentleman to know the full extent of your feelings for him.”

  Heat stung her cheeks, and she pressed her hands over them, trying to stem the tide. “I have always been transparent in my feelings, I fear.” Did Lord Somersby suspect the extent of interest in him? Would that be a good or bad thing? “My mother said I wear my heart on my sleeve in all things. And everything is so exciting now, I cannot help but show it.”

  “Then you must try very hard to change that. In Society, you should be able to mask your feelings for others rather than letting them know all. It will serve you better in the end, I promise.” Mrs. Doyle patted her shoulder. “Now, go see if Lord Somersby has indeed taken Lady Margaret as his partner. If so, I’ll wager he’ll be available soon, so enjoy yourself. But promise me you’ll play with other gentlemen during the evening as well. They will all wish to avail themselves of someone with your skill level.”

  “I promise.” Amanda swiftly embraced her then sped into the second drawing room. She immediately spied Lord Somersby talking to Lady Margaret and Lord Benton.

  “Miss Sharpe.” Lord Somersby leaped to his feet, followed more slowly by Lord Benton. “Will you join us for whist?”

  “I would love to.” Her heart beat faster and her breathing quickened as Somersby held the chair out for her. Being near him set her on edge in a very pleasant way. She must impress him with her ability at cards if she wanted him to continue to think well of her. He must wish her company if she were to be able to effect a change in him. Lowering herself into the seat, she spoke politely to the two older guests, longtime friends of Mrs. Doyle. “Good evening again, Lady Margaret, Lord Benton. Thank you for saving me a place at your table. Which of you am I to partner?”

  “Lady Margaret and Lord Benton have decided to team up against us.” Lord Somersby chuckled and opened the card box. “I tried to persuade them to give us a fighting chance, but they’re determined to trounce us thoroughly.”

  The elderly couple laughed with Amanda, steadying her nerves. The other pair might well emerge victorious if she couldn’t concentrate on her cards. As Lord Somersby shuffled the first deck, she slowly calmed her breathing and cleared her head. She’d always taken card games seriously, the urge to win the impetus to hone her skills. During the long nights in Wellesbourne, she’d played against her mother and father regularly, and various friends and neighbors when possible. Tonight’s exhibition, however, would be for the highest stakes: the admiration of Lord Somersby.

  Lord Benton shuffled the second deck while Lord Somersby handed the first to her to cut. She did so then handed it to Lady Margaret, who dealt.

  Amanda glanced nervously around and caught Lord Somersby’s gaze. He held it for several moments as the cards piled up before her, the confidence in his blue eyes seeming to reach across the table to touch her. She straightened her shoulders, picked up her cards, and the world went away.

  Card games, especially whist, had always made perfect sense to Amanda. Her mind attuned to the play instinctively, and she easily kept track of cards that had been played so she always knew the best card to discard. As a result, she rarely put a foot wrong. Tonight was no exception. She and Somersby played together seamlessly, each discard perfect, as though they danced an intricate pattern without a mistake. At the end of the rubber, they had taken all tricks save two.

  “I believe I’m in want of refreshment before playing again.” Lady Margaret rose, a good-natured smile on her face. “You are an artful player, Miss Sharpe. I will be happy to sit down with you any time, although I hope to refrain from being your opponent in the near future. Benton,” she said, turning to her partner, “escort me to the veranda for a breath of fresh air. I wish to speak to you about your grandson. My granddaughter will make her come out next Season, and I believe we could make a match there if you assist me.”

  “Delighted, my lady.” He offered his arm, and the two strode gracefully toward the doorway.

  Gathering the cards, Lord Somersby leaned toward Amanda, a twinkle in his eye. “Do you think we should have let them win?”

  “Absolutely not,” Amanda shot back at him then laughed. The game, and especially playing with him, had been the most thrilling time of her life. “If there’s one thing I’m passionate about, it’s games.”

  “I think I could tell that after the first hand.” He stacked the cards into a tight deck then stowed them in the card box. “I’ve played with sworn gamblers who had less dedication than you, Miss Sharpe.”

  “I like to win.” Usually without counting the cost. She collected the mother-of-pearl counters then poured them into their little slot in the box.

  “So do I,” he said, his gaze intent on her. “We seem to be a matched pair in that respect.”

  Leaning over the table, she stared back, heart beating wildly.

  “Miss Sharpe.”

  Startled, Amanda jerked back and looked up into the ashen face of Lady Celinda Graham.

  “Lady Celinda?” What on earth could’ve prompted her friend to interrupt her like that?

  “My lady.” Somersby rose smoothly. “You seem distressed. Won’t you be seated?”

  “I need to speak with Miss Sharpe privately, my lord.” Celinda’s brows had risen to an alarming height, and she gripped the back of the chair so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

  Lord Somersby pulled out the chair recently vacated by Lady Margaret. “If you will sit, my lady, I’ll fetch some refreshments for us all.” With a slight nod to Amanda, he said, “I’m certain it will take me some time to select items you both will like.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” Gratefully, she smiled at him, and he left. Such an astute gentleman and so kind. How could she
help but doubt the rumors about his behavior? She glanced around the drawing room, but everyone seemed absorbed in their own play. Likely no one would overhear them. Concern for her friend returned and, finding her less pale, she grasped her hands. “Celinda, what is the matter?”

  “Oh, Amanda, I have just this moment learned the most horrible news.” Celinda squeezed her friend’s hands.

  “About whom?” Had she found out something dreadful about Lord Finley?

  “Lord Somersby.”

  A chill chased down Amanda’s back, but she shook it off. Celinda did not like Lord Somersby, which made it probable she was exaggerating the importance of the claim against him. “What is it?”

  “I was in the other room playing whist with Lady Maude Clark, Lady Serena Jeffreys, and my cousin Kate—Miss Katherine Locke, that is. Lady Maude and I had just taken our third trick when she happened to mention that her best friend, Lady Caroline Smythe-Canning, had refused to continue her Season because of an unfortunate encounter with Lord Somersby.”

  “An unfortunate encounter?” Amanda’s stomach roiled painfully. Had he assaulted the lady?

  “He raised her hopes to the absolute pinnacle. She was certain he meant to propose to her, when he suddenly broke off all contact with no explanation. They’d arranged for a carriage ride in the park the next day, and that morning he sent a note around that he must cry off due to unforeseen circumstances. So of course she expected to hear from him the next day, but nothing. Not a word. And when Caroline attended Almack’s the following week, he put in an appearance but did not as much as approach her.” Releasing Amanda’s hands, Celinda sat back, scowling.

  “He gave her the cut direct?” Such behavior was unbelievable in any man, but unthinkable in the Lord Somersby she knew. Or thought she knew.

  “Well, no. He didn’t go that far.”

  Amanda released a sigh of relief, although she hated to think Lord Somersby would trifle so with a young lady’s affections. “Perhaps there is some other explanation? A misunderstanding by Lady Caroline, perhaps? Did she mistake the strength of his affection?”

  “Lady Maude did not reveal those particulars, but there is worse news.” Celinda leaned forward again to whisper, “Kate then told me of a very similar occurrence with Miss Elizabeth Winston.”

  “What?” The dread building in Amanda’s heart weighed it down until she could scarcely breathe.

  “It appears the week after he trifled with Caroline, he made the exact same advances to Miss Winston. He began by asking her to dance then at several entertainments he requested the supper dance as well, the offer of a carriage ride, an invitation to go for Gunter’s ices. Then, as soon as she was expecting a declaration, he disappeared.” Gripping Amanda’s arm, Celinda looked at her with pity in her eyes. “I suspect he’s doing the same thing to you. I told you he was a rake and a scoundrel. I am so sorry, Amanda. At least you have found out before your affections are fully engaged.”

  If only that were true. Amanda bit back tears. What must she do?

  “May I suggest you come join us in the other room? You can make your excuses to Lord Somersby.” Celinda rose, shaking out the folds of her China blue gown.

  Heart aching, Amanda sat still, trying to take in the devastating evidence against Somersby. What could have made him do such a thing to not one but two innocent ladies? Why would he toy with their affections, raise their hopes, as he was raising hers, only to drop them just when he seemed ready to propose? It made no sense. Unless…No, it would be too despicable. “He wouldn’t still be trying to win a wager, would he?”

  “I don’t think so.” Celinda motioned to her to rise. “My cousin Eric told me that wager involved Jenny specifically, for some reason.”

  Then that was not the answer. He obviously wasn’t trying to marry to win a wager. So why was he courting girls, raising their expectations then breaking their hearts?

  “Come, Amanda. Before Lord Somersby returns.”

  Why did a gentleman court a lady? Usually to find out if they would suit in anticipation of marriage. If they did suit, the gentleman proposed. If they did not… “That must be it!”

  Celinda stepped back, startled by her sudden utterance. “What must be it? Please come along, Amanda. He will return at any moment.”

  “I know why Lord Somersby stopped courting Lady Caroline and Miss Winston.”

  “What?” With a cautious look around the room, her friend slipped back into her chair. “How can you know that?”

  “It all makes sense.” Amanda leaned toward Celinda, squirming in her chair like a worm in hot ashes, as her mother used to say. “Lord Somersby is looking for a wife.”

  “He’s looking for a wife?” Celinda’s eyes widened and her brows dipped in a frown as her mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”

  “It’s what makes the most sense. He’s at least eight and twenty, isn’t he? The age when young men begin to seriously think about marriage and setting up their nursery. At Christmas he began to think about taking a wife, and though he lost her, he’s now aware that he should be looking for one. Even rakes do that eventually.” Warming to her idea, Amanda continued, her hands moving animatedly as she talked. “The first thing he does when he comes to London for the Season is to begin courting a young woman of good family. He begins to get to know her and while he does, he realizes they do not suit. So he stops his pursuit of her before he must declare himself and goes to the next young lady, still searching for a wife he thinks will befit him. Does that not make sense?”

  Wide-eyed and wary, Celinda pursed her lips. “Perhaps that accounts for it, but if so, he has certainly gone about it unconventionally. Most gentlemen do not raise a young lady’s hopes to the extent they believe the gentleman is going to propose only to cease courting them.”

  “Is Lord Somersby a conventional gentleman?”

  A smile split Celinda’s face. “Hardly. He’s always done as he pleased, no matter the consequences. That’s how he got his nose broken at Christmas.”

  “Oh, dear.” Startled, Amanda sat back. She had noticed that little bump on the bridge of his nose and wondered what had caused it. “His nose, you say?”

  “After what he almost did to Jenny, he escaped with a mild drubbing.” Celinda’s eyes got a faraway look in them as her smile widened.

  “But you do think my explanation makes sense, don’t you?” If it did, perhaps she had become Lord Somersby’s third choice for a possible wife. The thought warmed her all over.

  Her friend nodded and took her hand. “It does seem to make the most sense of his actions, although I will still advise you not to trust him too much just yet.”

  Amanda relaxed back into her chair. If her friend, who obviously did not like Lord Somersby, was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, she needed no other encouragement. “I will remember that, I promise.”

  “Let me return to the other room. I’m certain I needn’t ask, but will you come with me or stay here and wait for Somersby?” Celinda rose again, drawing her silk shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

  “I will wait for him.” Try though she might, Amanda could not keep herself from smiling as a blush crept into her cheeks.

  “Behave yourself, Amanda. We are not yet certain of his motives. What seems most obvious may yet turn out to be wrong.” With a little wave of her hand, Celinda turned and headed out the doorway. As she reached it, Lord Somersby appeared on the other side, juggling three laden plates. He handed one to Celinda, who shot him a curt, “Thank you,” took the plate, and continued into the room opposite.

  His burden now lighter, Lord Somersby hurried toward her, beaming. “I hope you enjoy these. Mrs. Doyle has some delicious dishes there. A bit beyond the simple cold collation, and a truly elegant presentation.”

  “I assisted her with the menu.” Amanda took the napkin from him as he put the heaping plate in front of her. “These are some of my favorites. The pigeon pie especially.” She took her fork and cut into the flaky past
ry, the rich gravy oozing onto the plate.

  “It smells heavenly.” He slipped his napkin onto his lap and began on the beef tongue. A quick signal to one of the serving footman procured them glasses of wine. Smiling fondly at her, he raised his glass. “To you, my dear. You’ve obviously planned such entertainments before.”

  With a quick look about the room, she took in the contented card players laughing and talking, the sparkling candelabra and polished silver candlesticks on each table, the variety of food on their own plates, and the rich ruby wine, and shook her head. “I had never before attended such an entertainment, much less prepared one. Mrs. Doyle did almost everything. However, in assisting her, I learned much.”

  “Indeed.” Gazing into her eyes, he seemed to search her depths, probing her without words until she could no longer breathe. “I would have sworn it was the other way around. You seem so at ease, Miss Sharpe, so full of confidence.” His blue eyes filled with admiration. “I would have believed this was your doing alone.”

  “You are very kind, my lord.” Appetite fled, Amanda nibbled at some cheese and bread. The way he looked at her filled her stomach with fluttery feelings, made her cheeks alternate between freezing cold and burning hot. If she were his wife, she would be responsible for all his entertainments. That he thought her capable of such on endeavor thrilled her down to her toes.

  “Miss Sharpe.” He grasped her hand, and the searing heat that shot from his bare hand into hers made her gasp. “I’m invited with a large party to attend a concert and fireworks at Vauxhall on Saturday evening. I would be most pleased if you would accompany me. Along with Mrs. Doyle, of course.”

  Warmth flooded her from top to toe. Such an invitation meant he wished to spend even more time with her. Perhaps time alone with her. Mrs. Doyle had warned her about the dangers of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, where many a young lady had met her ruin. Thoughts of him leading her down a deserted path, of taking her in his arms, of kissing her did not raise an alarm in her as it should have, but rather made her yearn for such an experience. She licked her lips and smiled into his expectant face. “I would love to accompany you, Lord Somersby. I have not been to Vauxhall, although I have heard much about it.” Smiling into those spellbinding blue eyes, she leaned closer. “I will look forward to seeing it with you to guide me.”