by Dawn Brower
“Indeed?” Lucien cast him a sidelong glance. “If you hadn’t made that wager with Westham, would you even give Miss Beckett a second thought?”
Probably not. Reese was hardly on the market for a wife, which would be the only reason he’d give any proper girl a first, second or third thought for that matter. Though he was loathe to admit such a thing aloud as that damned wager with Westham was coloring all of his thoughts that evening, but saying so would make him sound just as ruthless as Lucien had accused him of being. “She’s a very pretty girl.” And she truly was. Her smile probably would help her secure a number of votes. If Reese had one to cast, it could probably sway his.
“Yes, there is that,” Lucien agreed sourly. “Probably make your efforts in making her fall in love with you somewhat enjoyable, I would imagine.”
His efforts? There was a tone in his friend’s voice that grated just a bit. After all, this entire exercise had been for Lucien’s benefit. A little faith would have been nice “You don’t think I can do it.”
“Cara Beckett is in love with Bermuda, but do give it your best shot, old friend.”
“As I told you, it’s simply figuring out what to say to any given woman, Gates.” And currently Miss Beckett was being bored to tears by that dullard Ellisfield. Saving her from that particular fellow would go a long way to gaining her favor, Reese was sure.
Lord Ellisfield did enjoy the sound of his own voice, didn’t he? The fellow wouldn’t be so bad, Cara decided, if he spoke about something vaguely interesting. Unfortunately, he was quite obsessed with the breeding of his spaniels and had talked at some length about what made for the best markings in the dog and the qualities that made it far superior to every other breed in existence. Her sister Corinna would probably have enjoyed the conversation somewhat more than Cara did, great animal lover that she was. Though Cara doubted that even her youngest sister would have been enthralled, especially considering the fact that the man’s voice was quite monotone. Still, a vote was a vote wherever one could find such things. So she nodded at the appropriate times, batted her lashes, and cooed over his genius on the subject even though no other sane person would ever encourage him to continue.
It was with some relief when Lucien Gates, relying quite heavily on his cane, appeared directly in her path along with a rather handsome gentleman Cara hadn’t yet met, though she suspected he was her ultimate quarry for the evening. The duchess had, after all, described Lord Darling quite well. A tall man with light brown hair and warm hazel eyes, and the wide expanse of his shoulders spoke to many an afternoon spent at Gentleman Jackson’s. He possessed a strong jaw and a straight, aristocratic nose. And a devilish smile that hinted at a myriad of wicked thoughts.
“My dear Miss Beckett,” the man said as the musicians played the first chords of a waltz. “I believe this is our dance.”
Oh, he was rather daring, considering she’d never laid eyes on him until that moment. “Is it?” she asked as innocently as she was able.
“I do hate to drag you away from what I’m certain is a scintillating conversation, but you did promise me tonight’s first waltz, my dear.” The twinkle in his hazel eyes dared her to contradict him.
Daring and bold, and if she hadn’t known what he was about, she might have found his rescue attempt from her scintillating conversation to be more than charming. As it was, Lord Darling was her quarry. So she smiled at him, and retrieved her hand from Lord Ellisfield’s arm and said, “You are quite right, sir. Your memory appears to be much better than mine.”
“Until next time, Ellisfield,” the rakish earl said as he reached his hand out to Cara before spiriting her toward the middle of the dance floor.
He bowed as she curtseyed, and then he tugged her into his embrace. The muscles in his arms seemed well-formed beneath her fingertips, and he was rather graceful in his step. She had danced with worse gentlemen. Much worse.
Cara gazed up into his warm eyes and ignored the increase in her pulse when his gaze met hers. After all, she was just a game to him, a game she was supposed to beat him at. “You were quite confident I would come with you,” she said upon their first turn.
His lordship’s lips turned up to a slight smile. “I’ve heard more about Ellisfield’s spaniels than I’ve ever cared to. You definitely seemed the damsel in distress.”
“And who am I to thank for taking such pity on me. Are you Sir Galahad?” She played innocent, not letting on in the least that she had any idea of his identity.
His smile widened. “You may call me Darling.”
Oh, he was clever, or thought he was. An unsuspecting girl might swoon at his efforts. But swooning would make things too easy for him and doing so would never put them on an even field for this game they were playing. Cara shook her head. “I will not call you darling.”
“No?” His brow lifted in amusement as he led her into another turn.
“Nor will I call you my love, or sweetheart, or my dear, or—”
“My dear.” He laughed, and the warm sound seemed to surround her. “But I am Darling.”
Oh, there was something enjoyable about this game they were playing. He was much more engaging than most of the gentlemen she’d been sent here to charm. “Are you indeed? Does everyone tell you so, or only your mother?”
“The Earl of Darling at your service,” he clarified as he dipped his head in greeting.
And there they finally were. “A pity we weren’t properly introduced,” Cara replied.
He pulled her the tiniest bit closer to him, and the heat of his nearness warmed Cara through her gown. She would have to keep her wits about her with him. “But if you find Darling too intimate, you are welcome to call me Reese.”
“Reese?” Goodness, he moved quickly, didn’t he? But then he only had ten days to make her fall in love with him. Or was it nine now? She actually wasn’t sure. Truthfully, if she didn’t know what he was about, he might even have a chance of winning his wager in earnest. But she did know, and she intended to use his speed to her advantage. After all, the sooner she fell in love with him, the sooner she could capture the votes of Lords Folksworth, Upwell and Hedleyhope to her cause, and then the sooner she could continue on with the true purpose that had brought her to London. “You are rather forward, aren’t you?” she teased.
“I have been called determined on more than one occasion.”
Yes, even Her Grace had called him that. “And what is it that you are so determined about, Reese? I do find myself curious.”
He smiled at the use of his given name. “Your curiosity will only encourage me.”
“I’m not certain I should do that.” She smiled to encourage him further. “But you haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m afraid you have quite distracted me. Which question shall I answer for you?”
“What it is you’re so determined to do.”
“At the moment?”
“Mmm.” She nodded.
“Well, now that you’re calling me Reese, I should very much like permission to call you Cara in return.”
She wrinkled her brow just so as though she was considering his request. “I’m not sure if I should allow that. You have me at a disadvantage.”
“I doubt any man has ever had you at a disadvantage.”
That was mostly true. He must be fairly adept at reading her. “Yes, well, you know who I am, but until a moment ago, I’d never heard of you,” she lied. Although she hadn’t ever heard of him until earlier that day, so it wasn’t such an awful lie.
“Ah, well, I am wounded,” he said, looking far from wounded as his smile became a bit more rakish.
“Are you indeed?”
“That such a lovely girl should never have heard tales of me is quite demoralizing. I’m not certain my ego shall ever recover.”
Cara did laugh at that. “I doubt your ego has ever truly been in any sort of danger.” Then she tipped her head back a tiny bit to get a better read on him. “Shall I inquire amongst the ladie
s of the ton to share stories of you with me?”
He blanched slightly at the suggestion, but he recovered quickly. “Why ask any of them when I am quite willing to tell you all my tales myself, Cara?”
“I haven’t given you permission to call me Cara.”
His hand splayed possessively against her back, drawing her a tiny bit closer once again. “You can’t blame me for wanting to hear the sound of your name on my lips.”
She rolled her eyes in response. “Honestly, my lord, do you believe even half the drivel you’re spouting?”
“Too much, is it?” he asked with what appeared to be a genuinely appreciative look.
“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “A man as handsome as you are should never have to try so fervently, which can only make me suspect that something isn’t quite right in all of this.”
“You find me handsome?”
“You know you are,” she laughed. “I suspect you own a mirror.”
“Are all girls from Bermuda as astute as you?”
He knew her name and where she was from. He had certainly done his research, hadn’t he? But why had he done so? She’d never even heard his name before today. Why had he singled her out for this wager of his? “You seem to know quite a bit about me, Reese. I’m not certain if I should be flattered or terrified.”
“Flattered, for certain,” he said with a grin. “You don’t strike me as the sort of girl to be terrified by anything.”
And despite herself, she laughed again. “I think I’ve decided you are quite ridiculous.”
“And handsome,” he said. “Don’t forget handsome.”
“I don’t think you’d let me.”
“I’d like to help you, if I could,” he said as the song came to an end. He released his hold on her and offered his arm. “Captain Gates said you were trying to rally a number of peers to your plight in Bermuda.”
Lucien Gates. So he had been the supplier of all the information on Cara. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised. The two of them were friends and they had approached her together while she was strolling the perimeter with Lord Ellisfield. “Have you an interest in politics?” she asked as she accepted his proffered arm.
He shook his head and his hazel eyes twinkled a bit wickedly. “I have an interest in calling you Cara. I thought assisting you might go a long way toward you granting me permission to do so.”
Could he really help her garner the votes that Beckett Salt and the rest of the Bermudians needed? She hadn’t even considered that until now. “I daresay, that would go a long way.”
Yes, that was going rather well, Margaret, the Duchess of Hythe thought to herself as she watched Cara and Darling from across the ballroom. It was almost as though she’d planned it; which, of course, she had. However, until Darling made that ridiculous wager the night before, she hadn’t known what to do about Bernard’s oldest daughter. Cara was quite singularly focused on Beckett Salt and not focused at all on herself. Normally, the girl would never have agreed to let any fellow court her in earnest, not that she’d think Darling was courting her in earnest, but that would come, Margaret had no doubts.
She was suddenly quite optimistic about Cara’s future. She was such a delightful girl and seeing her properly settled the way Bernard would have wanted warmed Margaret’s heart. Of course, she’d have to turn her attention to Caitrin and Corinna once Cara was settled, but as long as Cara stayed in England at the end of the season, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her younger sisters to cross the Atlantic as well, especially should they need to travel for their oldest sister’s wedding. Though Margaret was getting ahead of herself with such thoughts. One thing at a time, and in the proper order.
“Well,” Harriet, the Countess of Upwell, began as she sidled up beside her. “She does seem to like him. You were right about pairing them. Who do you think would make a decent match for Daniel?”
Margaret frowned at her friend. “We are supposed to be on opposites sides of this thing, Harriet. It shouldn’t look like we’re conspiring.” Cara was too clever by half and if she figured this whole thing out, there would be hell to pay.
But, of course, that was the problem in plotting with those who weren’t adept schemers. They tended to let their guards down when they should always remain up. Harriet was sweet, but she wasn’t Machiavellian in the least.
Harriet waved the complaint away. “Oh, I don’t think they’re looking at us.”
No, they certainly weren’t. And they made a lovely couple, waltzing across the room together. Someday their children…Margaret shook the thought away. She was definitely getting ahead of herself. “I’ll stop by in the morning after he’s called on her.”
“I shall look forward to hearing all of the details,” Harriet replied, grinning from ear to ear.
Margaret shot her old friend a look. “And do wipe that grin off your face. If she sees you, you’ll give us away for sure.”
Harriet clamped her lips together. “Sorry,” she muttered before making her way back toward Agnes and Edith.
Chapter 3
Reese tucked Miss Beckett’s hand in the crook of his arm, and smiled down at her. She was a delightful girl, a witty conversationalist. And more than lovely. She’d been lovely from across the ballroom, but up close, standing right beside her, she was downright gorgeous—the way the chandelier light caught the russet hues in her hair, the way her mossy green eyes sparked with intelligence, and those lips…The things Reese could do to those perfectly plump, pink lips of hers.
She cast him a sidelong glance and said, “Do you really think you could help me garner votes in parliament?”
The fastest way to her heart, he had no doubt. She was too clever to rely on simple wordplay to win her over. “One way or another.” He had a couple friends who’d taken up their seats and who could be persuaded to support her cause if he asked.
“One way or another?” she echoed with a frown.
“Some are more easily swayed than others,” he explained. “And some simply don’t care about anything. It’s that latter group you have to appeal to, make them care for your cause or at least not care that they’re giving you their vote.”
She laughed slightly in response. “That sounds like something my father once said.”
Her father was the last person Reese wanted to remind her of. Things had been going so well between them, banter-wise; but there was nothing like the mention of a parent to snuff out any sort of lustful thoughts any girl might entertain at this stage in a flirtation. And with just ten days in which to work, Reese could not afford to do anything that might possibly douse any such thoughts Miss Beckett might be entertaining in regard to him, especially as he had been entertaining a number of those thoughts himself during their waltz and with her fitting so nicely in his arms.
He gestured toward Lucien and Arch who were entertaining a group of debutants and a few other fellows not too far away. “The stocky one there, across from Gates with the spectacles…”
“And…”
And she was too nice to say it. “And the large wart in the middle of his brow? Yes, that’s the fellow,” Reese agreed. “Earl of Mellor. Are you familiar with him?”
Miss Beckett shook her head. “Should I be?”
“Only if you’re interested in fortune hunters, but…” He quirked her a grin. “Well, you were in conversation with Ellisfield, so perhaps you are interested in fortune hunters. Is that the sort of fellow you prefer, Miss Beckett?”
“I’m only interested in their votes.”
“Wonderful news,” he teased. “Then I shan’t have to give away my fortune in order to interest you. That is a relief.”
She shook her head and her pretty reddish blonde curls bounced about her shoulders. “What were you going to say about Lord Mellor?”
“Ah, yes.” She was a rather determined girl. Being a determined man about most things, Reese did like that about her. “Well, Mellor is in my debt. He’d probably agree to eat his own boot in
exchange for me wiping the slate clean, so to speak.”
“Do I want to know how he came to be in your debt?” She looked up at him with the most curious expression.
Curious was good. Curious meant she was thinking about him.
“Probably better if you don’t.” He winked at her. “But the hows are not important at the moment.”
“They’re not?”
Reese shook his head. “What is important is that I’m quite certain he’d be willing to trade his vote in exchange for me forgiving his debt, should I make the suggestion.”
Miss Beckett blinked her mossy green eyes up at him. She wanted to believe him, he could see that in her depths, but something was holding her back. Something was keeping her from trusting him completely. “Nothing in life is free. Something else my father taught me at an early age.”
“Some things are,” Reese countered, slightly annoyed they were discussing her father again. He’d have to do better, apparently. “A smile, for instance. Or gazing at the constellations on clear night. The beauty of a flower. Or wishing someone well and—”
“Indeed? So you’re willing to help me out of the goodness of your heart? No strings attached, as they say?”
“Would you believe that I have a vested interest in the Bermudian salt industry?”
“I would not believe that,” she returned quite quickly.
“Well, you’d be wrong, then.” Reese let a slow smile spread across his face.
“Would I, indeed?”
He agreed with a nod of his head. “You see—” he towed her a bit closer to him as though he was sharing a secret as they continued toward Lucien and Mellor’s group “—I recently met the most enchanting girl who happens to care quite a bit about the Bermudian salt industry; and as I’d very much like to spend time with her, Bermudian salt is now a keen interest of mine.”
She did laugh at that, much as Reese had hoped she would. “Do I know her? This girl you’d like to spend time with?”
He winked at her. “A Miss Cara Beckett. I believe you’re rather close, actually.”